David Harbater is the director of the Department of Culture and Enrichment at the Magid Institute, Hebrew University’s institute for continuing education, and he teaches at Herzog College.

David Harbater researched two schools in Israel to see if intellectual and religious openness could be cultivated together with religious commitment.

Over the course of my four years as a student at an Israeli yeshiva high school I developed a deep and powerful bond with traditional Jewish belief and observance. In fact, my religious experience was so significant that, although I began my high school years as a rather wild and rambunctious kid, by the time I graduated I had decided to pursue a career in Jewish education. In a sense, I became one of the yeshiva’s poster boys, an embodiment of the school’s ideal graduate.

I later came to realize that the school’s particular religious beliefs and ideology were taught in an exceedingly dogmatic fashion, closed to alternative viewpoints and dismissive of dissent. I felt that my youth and innocence, as well as those of my peers, had been exploited in an effort to mold a generation of followers who were unflinchingly devoted to the school’s ideology and creed.

One example of the school’s approach had to do with the peace negotiations with Egypt and the withdrawal from Sinai which were of monumental importance in Israel at the time. The Rosh Yeshiva (yeshiva head) never missed an opportunity to teach us the halakhah’s unequivocal opposition to the exchange of portions of the biblical land of Israel in return for peace. Contemporary halakhic authorities who held different views were either ignored or treated with derision and contempt. The message was clear – there was only one legitimate view on this issue. At the time, the knowledge that I was privy to “The” truth was a source of pride and confidence.

It was only after I graduated and attended a post-high school yeshiva with a radically different orientation did my earlier convictions on this and other matters come crashing down. For the first time I was introduced to complexity on core issues and to the existence of multiple truths. The discovery of differing views on core issues of religious faith and practice was a rude awakening that shook me to the core.

Although in retrospect I am resentful of the way in which my yeshiva high school exploited my naiveté and innocence, I have often wondered what would have happened had I attended a high school which was less dogmatic, more open, and which allowed me to figure things out for myself. Would I have embraced the openness and chosen my own path to a rich and meaningful religious life or would I have interpreted openness as a fancy way of saying that anything goes and nothing really matters? Would I have graduated with the same religious commitment or would I have become blasé, disinterested or apathetic about religion?

This is the central question with which I have grappled as a Jewish educator for nearly 30 years. On the one hand, many of us presumably enter the profession because we are eager to share our Jewish beliefs, values, and commitments with our students. On the other hand, how can we do so effectively without limiting their exposure to alternative beliefs, values and commitments? But if we do not expose them to other possibilities, are we not denying them their freedom and moral right to choose their own paths and chart their own courses? In other words, is it possible to both cultivate among our students a meaningful commitment to Jewish life and tradition as well as to empower them as individuals to form their own beliefs and commitments?

To address this I recently conducted a qualitative study at two Israeli religious high schools, widely considered to be serious about their religious education yet non-dogmatic in their approach. I wanted to determine if these schools were genuinely integrating openness with serious and meaningful religious education, and if they were indeed accomplishing what they claimed, to understand the ways in which they did so. One of the schools that I researched is an ulpana (a parallel for girls of a yeshiva high school for boys) and is located in one of the larger settlement blocs; the other is an all boys’ religious (but not yeshiva) high school located in one of Israel’s major cities.

Openness and the vision of the ideal graduate

Both schools identify with religious Zionism, and, as such, aim to educate their students in accordance with beliefs such as the Divine origin of the Torah, the obligation to follow halakhah, and the importance of contributing to the welfare of Israeli society. Yet, in describing the ideal graduate I was surprised to discover that they both gave precedence to other values.

In the words of the Rosh Ulpana:

[The ideal graduate] should be able, first and foremost, to be connected to herself, not afraid to ask aloud questions of concern to her, that she received here a platform for everything that interests her. Of course, I will be very happy if she becomes more religious… but even if her religious level is lower than I would like but she has serious values, and expresses herself magnificently in the Israeli public sphere, I consider her a success although it will hurt me that she is not religious or she is less religious than I would like.

In other words, in his view, success is determined primarily by the school’s ability to cultivate graduates who find personal fulfillment and give public expression to their individual skills and talents, and only afterwards by their commitment to religion.

In articulating his vision of the ideal graduate, the principal of the boys’ school said:

The foundation has to be a kind and compassionate heart, the basic Jewish awareness that when a person is suffering one must open up. I tell my students that if they are asked what they gained from being religious and learning Torah, they should be able to say “that I became a better person” – straightforward humanity – everything else is above and beyond that.

Although he couched the values of goodness and ethical behavior in religious terms, it is clear that he prioritizes universal ethics over religious belief and practice.

This, of course, does not mean that these schools are not concerned about the religious development of their students. Rather, they seek to first cultivate students with a better sense of themselves and their humanity who are then able to embrace religion freely as mature and responsible young adults. Furthermore, the schools do not seek to fit students into a particular religious mold but seek to expose them to a range of options and to encourage them to choose a religious path that gives expression to their individual personalities and interests. This gives rise to the central question: How can these schools empower students to discover their authentic selves and develop their personal path to religion if the entire framework of the school requires conformity to a particular set of rules and regulations and if the core of the school’s curriculum revolves around a particular set of religious beliefs and values?

Openness in relation to the religious framework

Let us examine this through the lens of one issue which stood out during my year of research at the ulpana – the dress code. There are norms within the religious Zionist community relating to the dress code of girls – referred to generally as hilkhot tzniut (the laws of modesty) – and students in the community’s educational institutions are expected to adhere to these norms. On the other hand, there are many girls who, for a variety of reasons, would rather not do so. How, then, should the school respond? Strict enforcement without regard to the feelings and the desires of the students could undermine their independence and free choice, but the lack of enforcement could thwart the school’s efforts to instill within the students the commitment to halakhah.

The school consulted all the parties involved – staff, parents and the students themselves – for a series of open discussions that took place over the course of the year. These discussions focused both on the causes of the dilemma as well as on potential solutions. Although no consensus was reached, the open, inclusive, and sensitive manner in which the problem was addressed was deemed essential to the process. Reflecting on this process the rabbi of the ulpana told me:

We wanted to put everything on the table, to show the complexity… I understand that the complexity is interpreted as weakness, but I would rather be seen as weak due to educational considerations… I’m looking for a way to enforce but to be loving at the same time… in many places it is not addressed with warmth and love…with tzniut we have not yet found the way to enforce while showing that it comes from a place of love and that it is for your own good. There are rules, at the end of the day, and that is life. I have no simple answers.

Openness in the teaching of religious beliefs and values

One of the central missions of the two schools is to transmit core beliefs and values. This would be challenged by the school’s desire to empower students to determine their own beliefs – necessitating an environment in which the students are encouraged to think for themselves and allowed to question traditional beliefs. Although not all teachers in the schools exhibited the same degree of openness towards students’ questions, one particular class at the ulpana was instructive.

The class revolved around the halakhot pertaining to betrothal (kiddushin) and marriage (nissuin). The students spent much of the lesson voicing their objection to these halakhot on the grounds that they discriminate against women, and as the lesson progressed so too did the tone and the volume of their objections. Rather than match their heated tones with heated tones of his own, the teacher listened respectfully and tried to address the substance of their arguments, and at one point openly acknowledged that he too was struggling with some of the same issues. While this lesson was unusually emotional charged it, nonetheless, serves to illustrate the extent of the freedom that is granted to the students at both schools to express their feelings and opinions and to challenge. Furthermore, the teacher’s ability to listen and respond respectfully, without judgment, reinforces within the students the need for them to take control and assume responsibility for their own lives.

Another way in which the schools promote independent thought is by exposing the students to multiple views and orientations within Jewish tradition. Both schools, within certain limits, employ a diverse staff, welcome students from different backgrounds, include a Jewish studies curriculum that presents a range of views on core issues and encourage debate and discussion around these views.

Regarding religious diversity, the principal of the boys’ school offered the following insight:

When one looks at halakhah one constantly sees tensions between different ideas… On many issues there is this truth and there is that truth… There are issues and tensions all the time. My expectation is that students will make a decision but with the knowledge that there is always another reality and another point of view.

Openness to the “Other”

Religious schools are often wary of exposing students to other sectors of society out of fear that such exposure could endanger the religious commitment they are trying to foster among their students. Yet, limiting the exposure to the “Other” also limits the ability of students to make informed and independent decisions about their own lives. While the students at both schools spend most of their time with one another and with other members of the religious Zionist community both schools have built in frameworks for interactions with the “Other” within Jewish-Israeli society – haredim (ultra-Orthodox) and hilonim (secular) Jews. The boys’ school has a weekly hevruta learning program in which the students are mentored by older yeshiva students, many of whom hail from the haredi community, and the school conducts a joint ceremony with a neighboring hiloni high school on the anniversary of the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin which is planned and coordinated by 12th grade students from both schools. Similarly, the 11th grade students at the ulpana spend a Shabbat with haredi families in Jerusalem and they participate in a three day seminar with 11th grade girls from a leading hiloni high school in Israel.

In my interviews with students at the ulpana, many pointed to these interactions as formative experiences in their religious development as they afforded them the opportunity to reflect upon, and clarify, their own views. When I asked the rabbi of the ulpana how the school could justify such interactions knowing the danger that they might pose, he replied insightfully:

All education is dangerous…but to create awareness and depth it is necessary to challenge, to confront something that is contrary. If this poses a threat to a student then there is work to do and conversations to be had. If it is perceived as a threat then that student is weak and the problem is the weakness not the threat.

Process versus result

The success or failure of religious education is often measured by the degree to which students adhere to a particular set of beliefs and practices. However, this approach fails to take into account the personal background and development of the students. One way to reconcile the desire to promote religious commitment along with individual growth and development is to focus on processes rather than on results and to acknowledge that whether a student is religious or not is not an “either/or” proposition.

Both of the schools display a keen awareness of the developmental nature of religious identity and commitment. Rather than judge the students in accordance with a particular standard of religious observance, they accept them for who they are and provide them the intellectual and emotional tools to help them along on their religious journey. Furthermore, if in the past this journey was completed around the time of graduation from high school, both schools recognize that the reality today is that the development of personal and religious identity continues well beyond the high school years. Thus, they see their role in continuing to provide support and guidance to students even after they graduate. As a result, the principal of the boys’ high school proudly told me: “I look at myself, would I have asked my high school principal to conduct my wedding? Never!… but our students come back here because there is something that brings them back, something humane, knowing that we don’t judge them religiously.”

Openness, religious education and the experience of the students

How is this openness received by the students? Does it promote, or hinder, their religious growth and development? With very few exceptions, the students that I interviewed at both schools were effusive in their praise of the openness in the religious education at their respective schools. Furthermore, many students claimed that the openness played a critical role in their religious growth and development.

The following are excerpts from my interviews with the students:

• I am more connected because there is no closed approach but rather the opportunity for each student to go in her own path.
• There are all kinds of different teachers with different views and so you see religion from so many different perspectives which allows you to see yourself within it.
• I am strengthened by the choice… they give me the means but the result is up to me.
• The school began the search, and much food for thought so that I can choose whether I want to be part of this.
• The openness is good because it provides me a place where I can find myself.

One particularly astute student in the boys’ school had the following to say:

Even those who leave the [religious framework] will eventually return because the value remains. The school provides a yearning for that. The school provides the connection [to religion] but also the openness and the tools to decide whether to be religious…

Conclusion

I was pleased to discover that both schools exhibited certain common forms of openness without compromising the seriousness of their religious education. Furthermore, in a most remarkable and counterintuitive discovery, the openness at these schools played a critical role in promoting, rather than hindering, the religious development of many of the students. My research confirmed that, unlike my personal experience and previous assumptions, it is possible to envision Jewish day school graduates who are both committed to Jewish faith and tradition as well as mature, thoughtful and independent-minded young adults. The key lies in openness, in its various forms and manifestations, as a central and indispensable component of the educational process.