Parents as Partners

By: Rabbi Tully Harcsztark, Principal

Since Jews arrived on the great shores of the United States of America, Orthodox parents have worried about how to successfully transmit the values and practices of a rich Halakhic life to the next generation of American Jewish children. Of course, as the generations have passed, Jews have been increasingly accepted into American society. We and our children see ourselves as fully integrated into the surrounding culture, and freedom abounds. And with increased freedom and integration comes deep challenges. With each successive generation comes more choice, more comfort, greater freedoms. Religious transmission is more difficult than ever to achieve.

Or so we thought. In 2013, Vern Bengston, professor at the University of Southern California, along with two colleagues, published the results of a thirty five year study in which he interviewed over 3500 people spanning four generations of each interviewed family, exploring the challenges and successes of religious transmission in the U.S. (Here is a link  to the description of the book) The team interviewed members representing the major religions in the country. Some of the results were surprising while others confirmed our common sense. I share with you a few of the highlights.

• The three religions most successful at transmitting their values to the next generation: Mormons (highest), Jews and Evangelical Christians, the so called "high boundary" religions. 
• The team was surprised to find that 6 of 10 children follow in their parents religious footsteps, something they considered to be a high rate of success. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the high boundary religions did not see that statistic as very successful; the Evangelical minister quoted in the study focused on the 40%, the cup half empty, rather than on the success. We can relate...
• Most importantly: the rate of success of families in transmitting their values to the next generation has not changed over the generations. That means that although we might think that kids don't listen to their parents as much as they used to, that is not the case when it comes to religious transmission. Today's children are following in the footsteps of their parents to the same degree that they did in the previous two generations. In fact, although there are more "nones" (non believers) than there were in the previous generation, even the nones, in a high percentage of cases, have actually internalized the skepticism or atheism of their parents; atheism, too, can be transmitted to the next generation!

Those are some interesting stats. Undoubtedly his most important conclusion: Family matters! Although many people think that family has less influence than in the past, Bergston concludes that family matters today as much as it ever has. Some children internalize family values immediately and others take a more circuitous route. But parents (and grandparents) are of crucial importance to religious transmission.

What elements are crucial for successful religious transmission? Here are three important elements that the team highlights:

1. Parental warmth is key: Supportive, loving and present (i.e, available and not distracted) parents are crucial to successful transmission. (And “warm” does not mean “soft” or overly tolerant) This is not directly related to religious issues. Rather, warm parenting in general is, on its own, important for religious transmission. That's what makes it so powerful. The percentage of successful transmission decreases when parents are pressured to be less attentive because of financial difficulty, marital strife or illness. These are not always in our control. But it speaks to how diligent we need to be even during our most challenging times. 
2. Role modeling, actual practice, is of great significance. Children internalize what they see their parents doing. The obvious corollary: hypocrisy is a big turn off for kids. 
3. Striking the balance - too much parental pressure backfires; too little does not communicate the value or behavior. It is not easy to strike the balance but parents must be careful to watch for signs of either extreme. 

So what does this mean for us?

For me, as an educator, this study highlights the importance of school and family working together as we strive for religious growth for our children. Both school and family are dedicated to transmitting the values of a rich Jewish life to our children. We have shared aspirations for our kids. And the three key elements mentioned above are as crucial for teachers and administrators as they are for parents. For me, this points in the direction of increased partnership, of shared strategy and dialogue between home and school around the issue of religious transmission.

But we don’t talk to each other nearly enough about the successes and the real challenges of transmission. We talk about teachers and grades and curriculum. We talk about college and yeshivot in Israel. We talk about our new tefilah program or the new Beit Midrash curriculum. And all these are important parts of the puzzle. But we don’t yet talk to each other in a deep and trusting way, sharing our strategies, challenges and hesitations of religious transmission. Sometimes, a teacher or administrator in a school (any school) will say, “if the child’s parents would only….” No less often, parents might say “I wish the school would…”

Let’s take tefilah as an example. In school, we have our structures: we try our different minyanim, we teach the meaning of tefillot. We gather for hallel and we encourage students to daven three times a day. And parents have structures of meaning too: parents walk to shul with their children, daven with them, some remind their children to daven on the weekend, some push their children to go to minyan. This is something that is important, in a wide variety of ways to many of us.

But we have no opportunity to talk about it. To learn from each other. To build together.

Here’s what I think we should try: we should structure a dialogue, a “slightly-less-grand conversation” where small groups of parents and staff meet to talk to each other about tefilah. I imagine 10-15 people around a table in someone’s home, reading a shared text as a springboard to conversation about tefilah. And we talk. How do WE engage tefilah? What is OUR practice? What are OUR beliefs and hesitations? How many times a Shabbat do we go to shul? What do we expect of our children? How has that shaped the ways that we interact with our kids, as parents and teachers, around tefilah? How much do we push our kids to daven? Do we think it is their decision as to how to engage or ours to teach them how to engage?

There would be much to discuss. I suspect there would be enough to keep us going for a lifetime. It is something that goes to the heart of our Jewish beings. And we are so accustomed to attending classes and learning texts, of going to shiurim and listening to the rabbi, that we do not have opportunity to talk to each other, draw strength from each other, lean on each other, complement each other and develop a stronger shared mission and strategy to best achieve, as a community, the religious transmission that we strive to build.

Our intuition, I think, tells us this: when we work together, when we problem solve together, when we talk, we are that much stronger. What I am suggesting: I propose the idea of “communities of dialogue”, small groups to talk about both theory and practice, adults and children, texts and contexts, about tefilah and about other issues of religious transmission. I think it will make us stronger.

What do you think?

Crash Course in Jewish Identity

By: Ms. Adina Shoulson, History Department Chair

You could call them crash courses in world history. In ninth grade we start with paleolithic life and end in medieval times. In tenth grade we cover the period from the Renaissance to the Cold War. In all survey courses, time is precious.  As I begin and end the Russian Revolution in a flash, a student always asks, “why do we spend only a day on this important event, but so much more time on Jewish History?”  In our integrated approach to teaching global and Jewish history, students and parents often ask -- why bother inserting the Jewish perspective into the global narrative?  Why take time away from Napoleon to study Jewish emancipation in France?  Why flit from Franz Ferdinand to Balfour?  The flip side of this question is, if Jewish History is so important, why doesn’t it deserve a course of its own? 

It's no secret that as a Modern Orthodox high school, SAR has an agenda in teaching Jewish History, and it’s more than just teaching kids to think critically and read primary texts.  History is identity.  When teaching history we aim to arm students with critical thinking tools, but we also know that we can better understand our own story and identify more strongly as Jews through learning Jewish history. It's no different from our approach to teaching Tanakh and Talmud.  In those subjects we are, of course, invested in teaching the kids the skills and the content.  But an equally important goal is to teach the kids to love these sacred texts, and through them, to love Judaism. 

Jewish history is our story.  By learning our story we can feel closer to it.  My students say as much: “it may sound cliche, but it’s good to know where you come from.”  Students often relate better to the Jewish history units because they have more context for the discussion.  Not only do they feel closer to our past, but the study of Jewish history becomes an access point through which students can enter the Jewish narrative and view themselves as a part of the Jewish people’s future. 

This doesn’t mean it has to be an uncritical, simplistic view of our history either.  Students can study the role of Jesus and the origins of Christianity as a window into the tensions and aspirations within the Jewish community under Roman rule.  They can debate whether Moses Mendelssohn led the way to Reform Judaism, or whether that is a misreading of his ideas.  They can consider how Hasidut, which is viewed as such a traditional expression of Judaism today, could be viewed as innovative and even radical in the 18th century. 

The very act of debating our past and questioning the decisions of historical figures, even Jewish leaders, forces students to place themselves in the chain of Jewish history.  They come to realize that they share many of the values and the struggles that Jews of previous generations faced, and perhaps they disagree with their decisions.  After the French Revolution, as Jews were emancipated and able to live outside the reach of rabbinic authority for the first time, they confronted the challenge of balancing their Jewish traditions with the new and appealing secular values.  Nineteenth century Jews had many creative responses to this quandary ranging from Reform Judaism to the Ultra-Orthodoxy of the Hatam Sofer.  We don’t only ask the students to learn the philosophies of each approach, we ask them to think about where they fit in this spectrum and why.   

Now to answer those who believe in the importance of Jewish history as a component of building Jewish identity and question why it does not merit a class of its own.  What are the benefits of an integrated curriculum?  Jews never lived in a vacuum, isolated from the world around them.  We cannot understand anything about our contemporary Jewish world, from the phenomenon of the secular Jews, to the proliferation of Jewish denominations, without understanding the impact of the French Revolution and the reach of Napoleon who spread the ideal of equality throughout Europe.  Only by understanding the historical context can students appreciate the origins of Modern Orthodoxy and the historical moment in which Torah im derekh eretz (Torah and Western values) was an innovative, even revolutionary way to preserve tradition but also integrate into secular society.  As a final example, while Jews have been longing to return to Zion since they were exiled, modern Zionism cannot be fully understood without appreciating its context in 19th century nationalism. 

So, is it a crash course in World Jewish History?  Of course.  How could we cover thousands of years of history in two years any other way.  However, by including Jews, we give the Jewish People the place they deserve in that history, and we allow our students to find themselves by studying it. 

ARTICLE OF INTEREST:

Although the author of this article is doubtful about the integrated approach, he too believes that teaching Jewish history can be used to shape mature and thoughtful Jews.  He offers additional examples of topics and questions that can help develop our students’ critical thinking as well as their connection to their Jewish identity.

The Neglected Discipline

Senior Exploration: The SAR Final Frontier

By: Mr. Michael Courtney, Associate Director of College Counseling

How is senior year different from all other years?  Eight years ago, before the first senior class of SAR High School, a committee of faculty members and administrators sat to plan what senior year should look like.  With a desire to make senior year a bridge between high school and post-high school, and a healthy appreciation of how much seniors in May of senior year want to be sitting in classes, doing homework, and taking tests (answer: not very), one of their ideas was Senior Exploration.  Despite many refinements in the ensuing years, the idea of Senior Ex. remains the same: after three and a half years of us telling the students what we think they should learn, this is their opportunity to direct their learning to their own areas of interest.

      For five weeks following Pesach and before graduation, the curriculum is modified and seniors are released for a considerable number of hours to work on Senior Exploration. The majority of students pursue some type of fieldwork, a large number independently generate creative projects, and a select few conduct advanced research.  Regardless of the topic, the seniors incorporate the Grand Conversation within their project.  They spend time learning with Judaic Studies faculty on how to incorporate a piece of Talmud, Tanakh, or other prominent Judaic source within their individual theme.     

      The fieldwork options are limitless as students shadow working adults in professions like medicine, law, advertising, architecture, non-profit management, education, real estate, and many others.  Some of the creative projects that SAR seniors have produced have been quite memorable.  Most of these fulfill the –ing gerund: building, painting, designing, writing, filming, recording, etc.  Last year, two students (Noam Spira and Daniella Herman) embarked upon a novel Senior Exploration concept: raising chickens.  One senior raised his chickens within the SAR High School building, to Nick’s boundless delight, while another in the backyard of her home (we did not ask her parents how they felt about that.)  Gabriel Santoriello created a chainmail armor shirt, meticulously spending hundreds of hours stitching together the medieval garment.  In event of a siege by archers and lance-wielders, he will be well-protected.  Two years ago, Alex Katz decided to film a documentary about Senior Exploration; it ended up being featured in the initial presentation of Senior Exploration to the following year’s 12th grade class.  This year, many members of the Class of 2014 have mesmerized the faculty with their creativity.  Kayla Roisman decided to combine her passion for photography and desire to build community through her Humans of SAR Facebook page.  Arielle Firestone wrote, produced, and sang original songs in Gaelic.  One of her faculty judges, school nurse Russi Bohm, exclaimed, "I didn't understand the words she was saying but I wanted to buy the CD.  The music was beautiful."  Finally, a number of seniors are given the approval to spend their hours in the library where they research and write a paper about a subject that they are passionate about and have not yet had the opportunity to study in depth.  

      One of the highlights of the Senior Exploration program is that it pairs the seniors with many of our faculty members.  The students have the opportunity to work with a mentor throughout the second semester.  The faculty mentor acts as a guiding hand, offering advice and insight while ensuring that the student stays on top of his/her Senior Exploration requirements.  At times, the mentor has connections to a field where the student ends up spending the required hours.  In fact, Zevi Blumenfrucht (class of 2008) parlayed his phenomenal Senior Exploration placement in the business industry, courtesy of a Mr. Alon Krausz contact, into a full-time job offer.     

      In addition to working together with the faculty, many of the 12th graders have the privilege of shadowing SAR parents other than their own during these five weeks.  Over the years, scores of SAR parents have generously opened their offices to our students, educating them on their respective professions, enabling them to sit in on important meetings, and delegating essential tasks.  The students gain a great appreciation for how hard SAR parents work!    

      As the culmination of his or her project, every senior presents her or his Senior Exploration in front of their mentor and two faculty judges.  Family and friends are invited to observe the senior’s final graduation requirement, which becomes not just an evaluation but a celebration of what the senior has achieved.  It is typical to find seniors sitting in on their fellow classmates' presentations throughout the day.  Senior Exploration is a unique capstone to students’ experiences as members of Sting Nation.

           

     

Testimonial from Josh Gurin (SAR HS '13):

"Senior Exploration gave me the opportunity to think outside the box and do something memorable and special. I built a basketball court because it was something I could put my heart in and it is only because of the opportunity given to me that my project was successful, and I will have that forever."

      

The Call to Reveal: Developing Self-Knowing and Empathy within our Students

By: Dr. Mark Shinar, Director of General Studies

For the past five years, I have taught a twelfth grade English elective called Contemporary American Short Stories. This past year, in addition to the traditional literary analysis that rests at the foundation of the course, I was very interested in studying how the stories that we read and wrote would provide the students with a different type of understanding: an understanding of self. I wanted the stories to teach the students a deeper sense of empathy for others and inspire within them a willingness to share their own personal truths as a way to connect. I have dubbed this notion “The Call to Reveal.” 

As a person who is deeply committed to stories, I have learned that narrative, all narrative, inspires this call to reveal. We make meaning of our lives through the stories that we tell, and when we tell these stories, we also make personal connections. As such, there is not one uniform understanding of any story, and that is how we reach an appreciation for multiple, valid interpretations. By telling stories and revealing pieces of themselves, students learn that they are storied people. They bring their narratives to the table as a way of understanding themselves and their peers, as well as the stories that they have read in class.

To punctuate this point, I added a Performance Poetry unit to the second semester of the course, a time that could easily become less rigorous and demanding for graduating seniors. When I first introduced the unit and its goals to the students, I admit that they reacted with a mixture of incredulity and disdain. There was no way, they almost collectively claimed, that they could write, memorize, and perform a piece of poetry in front of the class. This was not what they had signed up for, and given the fact that it was second semester, the time commitment seemed too high and the task too daunting. 

We persisted, and in doing so, I am proud to say that the students were met with tremendous success. After learning and practicing the skills of performance poetry, which included in-class writing exercises and peer reviews, and watching countless video performances on YouTube, the students received their assignment. 

• The Topic of the Poem: “You Don’t Know Me”
• The Assignment: A 2-3 minute performance piece, written and memorized. Students were required to incorporate rich language and poetic devices, pay attention to the elements of performance that they had learned, and most importantly, honor The Call to Reveal.
• The Promise: Over the week of performances, the class would transform into an audience; all readings were met with gentle snaps instead of raucous applause, and all voices and ideas were honored and supported.

On the whole, the poems, which ranged from charmingly funny to seriously poignant, were extremely moving. The support that the students gave one another throughout the process was also remarkably noteworthy. After the performances, I asked the kids to write self-reflective pieces that also evaluated the effectiveness of the unit itself. Here are a few of the comments that I received from the seniors:

• By showing us videos of performances, I got very excited about creating my own poem, and I was motivated to do so. At first, I did not think that I could do it because it seemed impossible, but in the end, I learned a lot about myself and what I can do.
• The performance poetry unit was amazing. I wish it went on for longer. That week was very special for everyone in the class because everyone opened up, and it taught us so much about each person and about ourselves. Public speaking is difficult for me and so was performing the poem, but I am so happy I was able to do it. I really feel like I accomplished something. I think performance poetry is such an amazing art and it really lets the poet open up in a safe space – which is the same goal as short stories, and all literature – the call to reveal. 
• I was able to uncover more about myself than I would have thought. I also didn’t realize that I could write good stories that meant a lot to me. But, I was really able to know myself when I wrote my slam poem. I was able to show the class something about myself that I really care about.
• I do not have to tell you, because you already know, but performance poetry was SUCH a hit. I can admit it now, because the assignment is over, but I wrote my poem two days before performing it. The weeks before that I was working on an entirely different poem that I planned on performing. It was not really a call to reveal, it was not so personal, but it was safe. Your class has taught me that “safe” rarely produces a powerful paper. Being risky and vulnerable is what makes a topic endearing.  
• One of the most surprising units in the course was the poetry unit. Most of the class was appalled by the idea, and I was no exception. I rarely voice my personal opinions or take time to reflect on myself. The poem made me think about certain aspects of my character that I have never given time to think about. The poem may have been intended to educate my classmates on who I am, but it simultaneously educated me on who I am. 
• Of course, as with most of my classmates, the performance poetry unit was my favorite because it combined writing ability, creativity, and empathy all in one assignment.           

When writing creatively, students tend to place themselves as the heroes in their own stories, but the narratives that help them grow the most are much more grueling and uncomfortable. They are the ones that push them to reveal their shortcomings, as well as their victories; to acknowledge and honor the valleys, not just the peaks. What surprised me most about this unit is not how well the students did with the assignment, but that it showed us, myself included, how the writing of story can reorient students towards a better understanding of themselves and their peers. Stories, whether they are fiction or not, help us make meaning out of our lives. They push us towards a heightened level of awareness of how we listen to others, empathize with them, and understand their perspectives to be as equal and as valid as our own. In the end, the students’ lives became that much more enriched by truly listening and learning from the stories that surround them every day.

Seeking the Right Jewish Fit for My College Experience

By: Ms. Marjorie Jacobs, Director of College Counseling

College choice is a matter of much discussion in the College Counseling Center at SAR High School and tailoring that choice to the religious life of our community is perhaps the greatest challenge confronting observant Jewish students.  While many are enticed by the choice of college as an opportunity to select the ‘best’ (most selective) college, after reflection that broad choice narrows down significantly to focus on colleges that are the ‘best’ fit, ones that offer lifestyle options that more seamlessly match the traditions of our community.  

While each year the options for Jewish life on campus broaden and colleges are adding kosher meal plans one-by-one, the heart and soul of a Jewish community is not merely the dietary requirements of our community; it resides in the day-to-day experiences of our students.  The opportunity to venture beyond the twenty or so colleges that are known to have vibrant Jewish communities is enticing; yet, realistically, our students who select these options often find themselves confronting unsustainable and unacceptable lifestyle choices. Parents look to the college counselors for support in the perplexing, seemingly daunting, process. Students, on the other hand, are more adventurous, more inclined to experiment and more confident that they will ‘make it work’ on diverse campuses.  It is not unusual for students to go to Israel for a year and return deeply concerned about the campus they have selected.  Perhaps the year of maturation, living independently for the first time and/or the religious connections reinforced during that intense experience have transformed their view and tempered their certainty.  

At SAR, our guidelines for college selection include a strong focus on the Jewish community. Students are encouraged to spend a regular Shabbat on campus instead of or in addition to an organized Shabbaton experience.  We suggest that our students connect with other observant students on campus, not merely SAR graduates, but also those who represent a cross section of Jewish students.  Since daily life does involve tefillah and kashrut among other things, dining as well as joining in the daily communal experience sheds light on the life of students.  Given the luxury of a strong Jewish community both at school and at home, it is sometimes difficult for students to imagine life in the secular world of college.  Respecting diversity and seeking to interface meaningfully with those from other communities are values that SAR nurtures, but we do so within a context of a meaningful Jewish communal experience.  We see the Jewish community on campus as both a support and a guide through the college journey, a journey that represents the passage from adolescence into adulthood.

The ‘Right Jewish Fit for My College Experience’ is truly the most serious consideration students have as they seek to match their intellectual, social and ultimately career goals through their college experience.  The SAR college counseling team is acutely aware of the important role we play and are committed to helping our students through this process.

אשר קדשנו במצוותיו וצונו On Teaching Commandedness

By: Ms. Lisa Schlaff, Assistant Principal

              My favorite pasuk in Tanakh to teach is Devarim 5,13:

Here’s why: In Sefer Devarim we are commanded to keep Shabbat in order to let our slaves rest. We are not going to let our slaves rest if we are not resting ourselves; the commandment that everyone must rest is only to ensure that the weak in society are looked after. Shabbat, often thought of as the ultimate mitzvah between man and God, is defined here as a means for fulfilling our mission to create a just society.

This is a powerful concept to teach. The notion that underlying many of the mitzvot we often categorize as between man and God is God’s call for us to better the world gives us a deeper sense of their purpose. Kashrut can be understood as a condemnation of cruelty; the laws of purity can be understood as testifying to the value of life, and even tzizit can be understood as a statement that in the eyes of God all members of society are equal. In fact, I find the categorization of mitzvot into those “between man and God” and those “between man and man,”  which we now take for granted, to be an unhelpful one. It obscures the powerful expressions of justice inherent in the mitzvot. It leaves us to understand certain mitzvot as arbitrary rituals of obedience when in truth they are really about our mission to better the world.

Students love learning this pasuk because it makes sense. They love learning it because it helps redefine something we do blindly as something that has societal value. And they love learning it because it is fascinating to engage in discussion about what it means to keep Shabbat nowadays in order that “our slaves may rest.”

And yet, as much as this approach to mitzvot speaks to all of us, it concerns me. My responsibility as an educator is to convey to students a sense of how mitzvot further our mission in the world, and that at their core, mitzvot are about being good. But it is also my responsibility to convey a sense of commandedness; that God instructs us not only to be good, but that God sets the parameters of what good is, that we are not left to determine for our individual selves what we think good should be. Our understanding must be grounded in the teachings of God’s laws. I am commanded to create a just society. While I may have my own ideas of what a just society would be and how to go about creating it, the society I am commanded to create is the one that embodies justice as defined by God. And I am part of a tradition that for thousands of years has been trying to define the contours of that path.

So I try not to draw a distinction between mitzvot that are God-focused and mitzvot that are more overtly ethical in nature. My starting point is helping students understand that mitzvot are about goodness, and my ending point is that we alone don’t define what goodness is. The beginning is easy and affirms our inherent sense of justice; the second is difficult and rails against our sense of individual autonomy. Especially if you are a teenager.

How do we teach commandedness in a world in which individual autonomy is paramount? I do not pretend to have the answer to this question, but I will offer two suggestions that have been percolating lately.

1. Increase our focus on halakha: We need to teach halakha not only so that students know how to properly observe shabbat or kashrut, but so that they see themselves as insiders to an intricate system the very basis of which is commandedness. The more discourse there is about halakha, the more natural it becomes to feel “commanded.”

2. Say “I don’t know” more often: We need to model the notion that we don’t have all of the answers. There are certain things we do simply out of a sense of obligation and it is important to make that explicit to students. Showing our students that we live our lives with a sense of commandedness resonates powerfully, because it is true.

And so when I teach Devarim 5,13 we discuss what it means to create a just society, but also how different and more powerful that meaning becomes when the creation of a just society is a commandment. We discuss the notion that mitzvot are so much greater than my individual needs, and yet protect my individual needs. And we discuss the fact that while we bless God for the commandments, being commanded is in itself, a blessing.

TEACHING BY EXAMPLE

By: Mr. Yair Daar, Judaic Studies Teacher

While learning the laws of Shabbat with one of my classes, I encountered the following challenge: As important as it is to discuss the values behind and purposes of certain mitzvot, what happens when many details of a mitzvah don’t support its purpose (or at least not in an obvious manner)?  I didn’t want my students to get the impression that halacha is disconnected from and ignorant of the purpose of each mitzvah.

For example, we learned in class that an essential part of Shabbat is shifting our focus from what we create to focusing on simply being. This accounts for the definition of melacha (literally: “work” - the word used by the Torah for the actions prohibited on Shabbat) as being creative activity, and not simply hard work. However, refraining from ripping toilet paper doesn’t exactly scream “existential awareness,” and sorting a pile of socks does not exactly come across as creative. To many students, this might mean that Hilchot Shabbat are as “out of touch,” and “outdated” as the Rabbis who initiated them. Although we might intuit that this critique is unfair and untrue, how do we properly defend the detail-oriented practice of Halacha?

I presented two solutions to my students. I would like to share one of the answers here, as it is intimately connected with the chag of Pesach.

An intriguing aspect of the Pesach Seder is the encouraging of kushyot. As opposed to presenting questions asked out of curiosity, the required reading of the night challenges the practices of the seder. When we ask why this night is different, we are actually asking “Why would we act this way if it’s out of the norm and seemingly senseless?” The four questions challenge us to defend the mitzvot of the night and explain the purpose of our aberrant behavior. Is this really a prudent approach to promote among our youth?

The solution to this problem provides us with an critical aspect of chinuch. Namely, if we teach by example, we need not fear challenges to faith; if such is the case, we can actually encourage kushyot.

To me, teaching by example is the number one pedagogical lesson of the Seder. The Haggadah is replete with examples. We eat marror to teach about the bitterness and we recline with wine to demonstrate freedom. Our actions represent both slavery and freedom because the transition from one to another is the story. These represent just a few instances; viewing the rituals of the night through this lens helps us appreciate the meaning behind a number of the parts of the Seder.

If we teach our students and children by showing them the beauty of a life of Torah and Mitzvot, the positive effects should be numerous. We will not only demonstrate how to act, but we engender positive feelings. A deep sense of respect and appreciation for Judaism is essential to remaining a committed Jew. Additionally, a cycle of positive outcomes is at play here; when we set the right example, it strengthens our own commitment and creates an even more powerful example. This is exactly why the knowledge of the participants is irrelevant at the Seder. The Haggadah is about strengthening our own appreciation for becoming God’s faithful people; the goal is not to simply learn what happened.

Now we can solve our original problem. How do we expect our children and students to appreciate intricate halachot with such a wide gap between each detail and the overall mitzvah? One solution is to help them develop a general sense of appreciation. Understanding the meaning behind each detail should then become irrelevant, or at least less essential. When you know that something works, you don’t need to concern yourself with asking “why”. Or, if you do feel the need to ask, not finding the answer shouldn’t derail your faith.

So, before discussing Hilchot Shabbat, I asked my students to raise their hands if they were happy to have Shabbat in their lives. Every single student in the class concurred and provided reasons other than not having school. If their appreciation for Shabbat is a given, they should have a resulting respect for all the laws that make Shabbat what it is. Moreover, whether or not someone living in a halacha-oriented community keeps all the laws of Shabbat is not essential to appreciate these laws. The conscious and unconscious impact the laws of Shabbat have on each individual and the community as a whole is immeasurable. We may not understand how it all works, but we can still trust that a certain seder exists.

At this point, the lesson is clear. For our children and students to appreciate the rituals and beliefs of a Torah lifestyle, we must first demonstrate to them the beauty of such a life. Understanding this principle can help us turn contentious discussions into edifying experiences.  A life full of faith-challenges can become a nuanced and meaningful existence. As success in this endeavor is crucial, we all - parent and teacher alike - should feel responsible to set the right example.