This year, my son is starting third grade. Since the age of 3, he's been part of Israel's public school system. He's great at math, reads exceptionally well, knows music notes from his music lessons, and is aware of climate change because it's taught in his school.
Last Saturday, I managed to convince him to join me at the synagogue after I arranged for a classmate's father to join us.
After the Torah reading, he came up to me and said, "Dad, I got to touch 'that thing.'" I asked, "The Torah scroll?" His classmate, whose father is also the cantor, responded, "Imri, don't you know it's called a Torah scroll?" I stood there, shocked and ashamed – mostly of myself. How did we get to the point where my son, who will turn 8 next month, doesn't know what a Torah scroll is?
Last week, I watched a televised debate between a conservative panelist and a liberal Tel Aviv City Council member. The topic was public prayers during the holidays, and the Tel Aviv City Council member openly said that her goal is to promote a progressive form of Judaism where there is no separation between men and women during prayer. Under the guise of women's rights, she is effectively imposing a specific religious stream on the Israeli public, the majority of whom are Orthodox, driven by a clear political agenda.
We were all appalled by the protests of the ultra-Orthodox outside IDF recruitment offices and the horrific things some of them said. For them, military service is part of a Zionist plot to secularize the ultra-Orthodox community through the army, a notion rooted in the days of Israel's founding prime minister, David Ben-Gurion, with consequences we still feel as a nation today.
There's a direct thread connecting my son, who isn't learning about Judaism at all in the public school system; the Tel Aviv municipality, which hasn't learned from last Yom Kippur's awful scenes where protesters disrupted public prayer services, and continues to push its fanatical secular agenda; and the ultra-Orthodox who vehemently oppose military service and refuse to be part of the Israeli collective. All these actions stem from a fear of what it means to be Jewish – whether it's the fear of religious indoctrination or secularism.
On Tisha B'Av, which was marked this week, we mourn the destruction of the Temple and our exile, all because of baseless hatred. Seventy-six years after we returned to our land, entitled to it solely because we are Jews, it seems we've forgotten why our ancestors prayed for Zion during 2,000 years of exile. And if it seemed that October 7 woke us up, less than a year later, it appears that nothing has truly changed.
Avi ShoshanPhoto: Oz MualemOn a national level, I hope leaders will emerge who can bridge the divides between us. On a personal level, I’ve realized I can't rely on the Israeli school system, which fears teaching Jewish children basic concepts of Judaism.
Today, I signed my son up for soccer, and my daughter continues her gymnastics classes. Here's an interesting idea I'd love to enroll my kids in, and one that could provide a livelihood for someone who takes it up: a Jewish studies class for children. A weekly session with an instructor who would teach them about the Torah, Jewish traditions and holidays in a fun and engaging way.
I know many parents who would gladly send their kids to such a class. It might not be as glamorous as Olympic medals, but it would be the greatest victory for many secular and traditional parents who want to pass on our religion and heritage to their children – without shame, without hiding and, above all, without fear of being Jewish.