I must confess. I am deeply torn about spirituality. I have gone through extended periods during which I experienced deep and profound connection with God. Music, tefillah, mind-expanding Torah-study, cloudless starry nights, awesome thunderstorms, staring at a single flame, witnessing a birth, being present at the moment of death, and running a marathon in Jerusalem have each inspired me to sense that I was in the immediate, intimate, and terrifying presence of God. As a shaliah tzibbur leading tefillah on Yom Kippur I have been transported into worlds I cannot describe.

Alan Brill is the Cooperman/Ross Endowed Chair in the Jewish-Christian Studies Graduate Program in the Department of Religion at Seton Hall University. Rabbi Dr. Brill specializes in interfaith theology, mysticism, and comparative theology. Jewish Educational Leadership is pleased to share with you excerpts of our discussion with him.

“I raise my eyes to the Heavens” (Psalms 121). We raise our eyes upwards and strive to feel closeness and connection to an infinite, hidden source. We long to hear a clear voice calling our name, confirming for us that our words arrived, traversing the space between Heaven and Earth.

We can feel a sense of belonging to one another in the merit of our shared search for God. The searching movement brings us together, we know how to seek one another, and we know how to seek the way. We know how to walk together to great lengths, even as God hides.

I come into class and students have already set up the desks in a circle. I take my place, as much as a participant as the teacher, and, on cue, each of us in turn shares their mispar nokhehut, a number from one to ten that captures our presence at that moment. I take mental note of those whose number is particularly low or unusually high or very different than the previous week. In the course of a minute or two, I have my hand on the pulse of the class and how much they are present with me. I share my number with them so that they can measure my presence as well.

Although I have been a parent at my school for the past five years, in August, I became the Associate Head of School of Oakland Hebrew Day School, a Modern Orthodox, Bridge-K through eighth school in the Bay Area. One of my first responsibilities was planning the teacher in-service week. As I was approaching the transition from a place of observation and learning, I relied heavily on the structure of the previous year, which quickly resulted in my ruminating over the fact that the past year’s schedule had ten minutes of mindfulness beginning each day. I could feel my own insecurities and self-consciousness rising as I asked myself what it would mean as a leader to ask my teachers to engage in a practice with which I personally didn’t feel comfortable.

Imagine a world where every Jewish child is filled with the joy and purpose that comes from the knowledge that we are each a unique creation. Imagine a world where Jewish children feel fortunate and blessed to be a privileged part of a nation which partners with the Creator of heaven and earth. While dreaming big is always a virtue, accepting the hard fact that most children do not feel this way, in many instances, is the first step in rectifying the painful reality of the challenges we face as parents, educators, and leaders.