Samuel Kapustin is Director of Jewish Studies at the TanenbaumCHAT Community Hebrew Academy of Toronto, where he has been since 1975. He has degrees from Yeshiva College and the University of Toronto in history and education, and studied at the Hebrew University and Yeshivat Kerem B’Yavneh.
When Jewish educators come together to discuss their common goals, foremost on their list is promoting Jewish identity. The Jewish educational experience should result in students’ commitment to maintain and, ideally, to develop, their Jewish identity, i.e., their commitment to remain Jews. After we clear aside the daily educational clutter of curriculum development, teacher evaluation and learning skills programs, we are all left with the essence – that Judaism should continue to the next generation. The question is, of course, how is this to be achieved. It is the premise of this essay that one cannot, and indeed should not, teach for commitment, but rather for independent thought and choice, which, one hopes and expects, will lead to the commitment we so cherish.
What is the difference between teaching for commitment and teaching for independence that may lead to commitment? We all know the following about what actually happens in a classroom. Teachers set the rules, establish the expectations and, in effect, create the culture. Students often are not fully aware of the myriad ways in which teachers construct the society of the classroom so as to achieve an environment that will promote commitment to a particular and accepted ideological norm. A cynic might even suggest that this is akin to indoctrination, and, in fact, there probably is no education without an agenda, hidden or not, which does not utilize various manipulative techniques or disallow others to promote a specific commitment. For example, certainly none but the most haredi schools would tolerate examining whether or not the State of Israel should exist, any more than a public school would seriously contemplate whether or not democracy is the best form of government. These are givens, and like all fundamental ideological positions, they are not really open for discussion. None of us, should we be tempted to do so, need be apologetic about this approach. In the last analysis, no school, however open, liberal or pluralistic it claims to be, is really so open-minded that its collective brains fall out to allow the possible rejection of its ideological essentials. We share certain core beliefs which we defiantly embody, and we define our success by the degree to which our graduates have imbibed them as a basis for their existence.
On the other hand, beliefs must be arrived at independently. They cannot be imposed, however subtly, or they will not be genuinely embraced and upheld. Students may do what the system demands – pray three times a day, declare allegiance to the flag and sing Hatikvah with gusto, but it all may be for naught, unless they have been encouraged to examine and thereby decide for themselves what to accept and what to discard. Only in that way will any meaningful process of internalization occur. Consequently, I suggest that if indeed our goal is Jewish commitment, no matter the particular school in which we function as educators, we must remember and consider this reality as we go about our daily business of curriculum and skills, of formal and informal, of academic and experiential.
I can already hear my readers muttering to themselves. “Sure! And which planet is he on? Does he really think that everything should be on the table; that students should be allowed to pick and choose their values and to question the basic beliefs of Judaism?” To which I respond that if there was a choice in some more perfect age of Jewish existence prior to our own, certainly no such choice exists as we proceed through the 21st century. It is not a question of if our students will voice their doubts and concerns, but when. I, for one, would much prefer that they do so in a Jewish context where professional educators are present to respond intelligently, systematically and sensitively than in either the moral morass of the university or the black and white certainty of some post-high school Israeli institution. Should we be afraid of such a process? Absolutely! Can we avoid it? Not if we are educators worthy of the name.
If the above is valid, we are left with the “simple” issue of how to proceed. I posit that there are three essential components to doing this successfully – teachers, curriculum and experiential education.
Teachers
Besides seeking people who are knowledgeable, well-trained and conversant with the latest educational theories and methodology, we need to ensure that those who confront our students every day, perhaps at any level, have their own Jewish heads screwed on properly. By this I mean that they themselves have experienced the challenges of the Jew facing modernity, that they have grappled with the difficulties of reconciling the absolutes of Jewish identity with the welcoming relativism anchored in an attractive, dominant host society and, finally, that they have, each and every one, developed some ideological modus vivendi that enables them not only to function, but to grow, as intelligent, sensitive and serious Jews.
Such people, by definition, will have opinions, not all in consonance with the school’s prevailing ideology. Yet, if we wish more than technocrats in the classroom, we must be prepared to accept in our schools a diversity of beliefs. Every school will have to define the parameters of that diversity. It must be narrow enough to reflect the community of values reflected in the parent body, but it must also be broad enough to promote objectivity and sensitivity to troublesome, but meaningful issues. Consequently, at the same time as teachers must be responsible to explain and espouse the school’s ideology, they must be allowed, certainly when asked, to declare their own.
There may be a Talmud teacher who entertains serious doubts about Talmud study as the focus of Jewish learning, a Jewish history teacher who questions the retention of Judea and Samaria or a philosophy teacher who doubts Divine providence or, for that matter, any teacher who rejects some commonly accepted dogma of contemporary Jews. Yet, it is these people who will be willing and able to respond most effectively to our students, because they share the same or similar concerns. They will be role models in the fullest sense, not paragons of idealistic behaviour, but flesh and blood Jews who illustrate the benefits and challenges of Jewish identity.
I am not suggesting that teachers be allowed to use their classrooms as platforms for promoting their specific views even when they are antithetical to the School’s philosophy. I do, however, suggest that teachers be allowed to respond honestly to student questions and to help their students examine positions that are at odds with that philosophy. In short, a teacher’s personal Judaism need not and should not be left at the classroom door. To do so would not only be intellectually dishonest, but would deprive our students of interaction with individuals with whom they can identify, because they themselves have undergone the same process of sincere questioning and confrontation.
Among the factors that promote teacher success is student respect. Integrity earns respect; manipulation and obfuscation destroy it. Students quickly learn with which teacher they can raise the real issues that trouble them. They also learn when the system demands that they sublimate their genuine concerns somewhere in their innermost psyche, there to fester until they erupt in a less friendly context.
Do we not have enough difficulty finding and developing qualified and capable teachers, without seeking such rare individuals? Yes and no. Teachers, like students, are excellent at adapting to the demands of the system, to meet the expectations of the employer, even if they are not their own. How many of our people would welcome the challenge of such an educational environment and the opportunity to acquire the knowledge and skills to function successfully in it? Furthermore, how many potential teachers are there who might be more easily attracted to the profession if, in addition to transmitting information and developing skills, they were entrusted with a primary goal of fostering independent, Jewish thinkers?
Curriculum
We all know the reality of the day school schedule – time is limited, so the real question is not what to teach, but what not to teach. The amount of time that each school devotes to particular subject areas is often a clear sign, reflecting its ideological stance. Yet perhaps the criteria for making such choices should be less how they adhere to school’s ideology and even to parental expectations and more what do the students really need to learn to become serious and authentic Jews, no matter the ideology, when they leave the womb of home and school? In other words, independent thinking is best promoted if students can identify with the issues than concern them. Teaching such material without allowing critical examination of their inherent value will defeat the purpose of promoting commitment. Students must be offered the opportunity to disagree and to reject.
Consequently, we need to ask ourselves the following types of questions. Is it tenable at this juncture in the history of the our people that a high school graduate from a day school not have studied thoroughly and objectively the evolution of the major religious movements in Judaism – not for the purpose of justifying one or the other, but to provide a meaningful context that sheds light on Judaism’s contemporary challenges? It is not them or us – all of us share in today’s crisis. Similarly, can we as dedicated educators really allow our graduates to be exposed to the non-Jewish world without a thorough analysis of Zionism and Israel. The goal here is not primarily to enable our graduates to engage in propaganda on behalf of the Jewish state, or what is usually termed “Israel advocacy,” but comprehensive Israel education. If we wish students to feel for the Jewish state, they must study it objectively, warts and all. Our role is not primarily to create spokespersons for the Jewish community, but to produce young Jews who can face the problems of Israel as well as they do its successes, without it undermining their Zionist or Jewish self-image.
We might as easily ask whether we are fulfilling our task if our students have not dealt in depth with Judaism’s views of relations between the sexes, of the cons and pros of involvement in non-Jewish society, of the spiritual significance of continued Jewish learning, etc., etc. The list goes on.
To be sure, Talmud, Tanakh, halakhah/ customs and Hebrew language are all essential, and it is not a question of replacing these anchors of any true Jewish Studies curriculum. Yet, we either ensure that difficult issues are an intentional focus somewhere in these classical Jewish subjects, or we develop new and compelling curricula dedicated to them. Jewish commitment can only be expected when controversial and problematic issues are formally addressed in our schools, so that students can perceive that Judaism has something serious and relevant to say about them and that there may be divergent views and few easy answers. It is only then that they may accept the responsibility of choosing what makes most Jewish sense to them.
We must remember that, at best, our students retain perhaps 50% of what they “learn.” In twenty years time, when we can no longer compel their Jewish action and declared belief, we will not be concerned with what they know, but with what they live. Will they wish to open a Tanakh, a Talmud volume, an Agnon story or a Jewish history text? To what degree will they consider such things central to their Jewishness? To what degree will these prime examples of Jewish learning speak to their innermost Jewish selves? This will only happen if it did when they were sitting in front of us in our classrooms, when we had the opportunity to demonstrate to them that Jewish learning and Judaism in general is not about their parents’ or teachers’ pasts, but about their own futures.
Experiential education
Much has been written about the tension between the academics that occur in the classroom and the informal experiences that occur outside of it, i.e., shabbatonim, hagim programs, school trips, etc. To be sure, there are many paths to the Jewish soul. I sense, however, a strange dichotomy evolving. Our students spend most of their time in the formal classroom setting, but we tend to belittle its value in favor of whatever informal experiences we provide for them. Many seem to feel that this is when the real identity formation occurs! If, however, we believe that academic study is central to Jewish life, why do we seem to focus on the informal as the real vehicle for promoting commitment?
In truth, there is no such dichotomy. If Judaism is to have any lasting meaning for our students, the experiences that they have in Jewish schools, whether formal or informal, must be equally experiential, i.e., causing impact on their development as young Jews. I see no reason why an intellectual examination of a classical text that deals with a relevant and troublesome issue in an honest and sensitive manner cannot have as much, if not more, significance than dancing and singing at a shabbaton. What we want is spirituality, not simply spirit. Intellectual experiences that promote constructive criticism and analysis of issues that address students’ concerns are no less fertile grounds for creating commitment than those whose focus is emotional excitement. The determining factor is less what is studied than how. For example, teachers can teach Avraham’s behavior at the akedah as a model of human obedience to God’s power and mystery or they can explore the tension between divine justice and human moral responsibility. The teacher’s approach determines the students’ reactions and the value of the classroom experience. Is the goal that students know and accept, or would we prefer that they ponder and explore so that ultimately they choose to accept? The emotional wonder at Avraham’s absolute faith divorced from the intellectual predicament occasioned by his seeming willingness to commit murder is a recipe for unthinking superficiality. In its worst manifestation, such a division may lead to self-righteous extremism, whether religious or political. True commitment is founded on both understanding and feeling. Nonetheless, as we have little choice regarding the freedom that we must allow our students if we seek commitment, so we do not have the luxury to sidestep the pursuit of that commitment for fear of producing extremism. There is no valid Jewish education without commitment as its goal.
Ironically, at the same time as we Jews exploit the benefits of a tolerant and pluralistic society, we reject its celebration of an uncommitted relativism. “I’m right, you’re right, nobody’s wrong” is not a Jewish credo. As we labor in our schools on behalf of a specifically Jewish personality, we labor against contemporary society’s homogenized value system. We unabashedly seek commitment, arrived at both passionately and critically.
In conclusion, we sometimes forget that teaching is fundamentally about avoiding missed opportunities. Let us have teachers and curricula that minimize those missed opportunities in our schools. In addition, whatever ideology we promote, denominational or community-based, I believe that we all share a desire and willingness to have our students grapple with contemporary society, not escape from it. Let us, therefore, create institutions where commitment will indeed be the eventual goal, but where students, according to their individual ability and maturity, are urged to exercise them freely to arrive at genuine commitment – one achieved through thoughtful choice. Ultimately, it is not the content or even the methodology that determines the educational impact, but the approach that informs it.