Content, Connection, and Compassion: Three Steps to a Productive Religious School
At a National Jewish Book Award ceremony not so long ago, an award recipient took the stage, smiled broadly, and told the audience that “it’s nice to get a prize.” Then she added, “the last time I got a prize was in Religious School…” — for what? — “…for being quiet.”
Yes, she was awarded a prize for simply being quiet, the bar in her school sadly having been set so low that by doing nothing she was already outperforming her peers. (Rabbi Larry Milder expresses a similar sentiment in his song about his experience teaching Religious School: There’s a Riot Going On in Classroom Number Nine.) Equally unfortunately, most of the audience at the award ceremony chuckled in solidarity, probably remembering their own not-so-different experiences in Religious School. Some of them may even have thought, “so you’re the goodie-goodie who got us all in trouble when we were pasting our yarmulkes to the wall.”
How did this happen, and what can we do about it?
Many Religious Schools seem like case studies in institutional bipolar disorder: children must attend but nothing should be required of them; or everything should be required of them and there should be no consequences for not fulfilling the requirements; or the consequences should be so severe that everyone hates being there; or loving Religious School is so important that the school is turned into a playground where nothing is taught; and so forth.
Hidden in this list of institutionality-disorder symptoms are three of the elements that I believe are crucial to a productive Religious School: content, connection, and compassion.
I think we have an absolute obligation not to waste the time of the students who show up to Religious School. After all, they aren’t allowed to leave. If I go to a lecture and I’m bored, I can walk out. But we don’t give children at Religious School (or public school, for that matter) this prerogative, so I think we have to make sure that their time in class is well spent by giving them challenging and engaging content.
Having fun also seems like a good idea. And some people believe that the best way to have fun is to turn learning time into game time. But I disagree, because, fortunately, children naturally love learning. So I think that by providing a stimulating environment we will also create a place where children enjoy themselves. Schools that dumb down their curriculum to make the place more enticing have it backwards.
Having fun also contributes to my second element of Religious School: connection. If the only point of the school were to convey information, we could distribute textbooks, offer a yearly exam, and do away with the weekly gatherings. But Judaism is not merely a collection of facts to be learned. It is also a sense of connection — to our history, to each other, to the Jewish people, to Israel, and to the synagogue.
Thirdly, I think our school has to offer compassion to people — children and parents — whose lives are increasingly lacking that vital component. Too many parts of our lives are uncompromising and rigid, forcing us to adapt to them rather than letting us be ourselves. Our school can offer an island of relief against this troubling trend.
Taken in isolation, any of these three aspects — content, connection, and compassion — can lead us astray. If we focus only on content, our Religious School will lose its soul. Connection by itself won’t work, because we have to offer something to be connected to. And compassion alone threatens to make the school irrelevant to people who are already thriving.
But in combination, I think these three goals can help provide the foundation of a school worthy of the collective energy we all invest in it.
[Reposted from the Vassar Temple Blog, in turn reprinted from my article in the Vassar Temple January, 2012 bulletin.]
Fixing Half the Problem
It’s easy to fix half a problem if you don’t mind making the other half worse.
And I think this is what we see with President Obama’s plan to help home owners refinance at a lower interest rate.
At first glance, it seems like a good idea, because home owners will save money thanks to lower mortgage payments. But that’s only half the story.
The other half is that people who have invested in real estate will earn less.
For example, on each $100,000 of mortgage loans, an interest-rate drop from 6% to 4% saves a home owner almost $1,500 per year. If, let’s say, one million people shave two percentage points off an average of $250,000 in mortgages, then one million people will save on average upwards of $36,000 each over the next ten years.
But by exactly the same token, investors in real estate — banks, but also pension funds and the like — will collectively lose more than $36 billion over the text ten years.
Just by way of example, one adverse reaction will be to the New York State Teachers’ Retirement System, which has some $1.34 billion invested in real estate. If the return on that $1.34 billion drops from from 6% to 4%, the fund will earn $27 million a year less, for a total loss of $270 million over ten years.
In short, there’s no free lunch here. When some people save money, other people earn less from their investments.
Like a ship taking on water, America is sinking from debt. And like two groups of sailors — each trying to save half the boat by shifting the water to the other side — our leaders seem focused on solving half the problem even if they make the other half worse.
On the Price-Tag Attacks in Israel
A series of attacks on Muslim and Christian sites, marked by the slogan “price tag” and apparently committed by Jews, demands a response, simple though it may be: I condemn the attacks and find those who committed them reprehensible.
In the past I have chastised religious leaders and other prominent people for not speaking out against terrorism committed by their alleged coreligionists. So I want to be clear that I do not support what these Jews (if they are Jews) in Israel are doing. I’d like to think that no one could even make such a mistake as mixing up my respect and tolerance with their hatred and bigotry, but I know that as tensions rise, so does mistrust. That’s why I’m publicly denouncing these acts as clearly as possible.
Equally, I hope I’ll set a model for others to speak out, even when they might not think it’s necessary. The next time we read of religious violence or intolerance, I hope we’ll also read of masses of religious leaders speaking out against it.
The Subtext of Our Lives: Unetaneh Tokef and the High Holidays
“Who shall die by fire, and who by water?”
For many people, that question — part of the haunting Unetaneh Tokef prayer — is reason enough to boycott the Days of Awe. After all, the text of that famous medieval poem offers a simple, clear answer to why people suffer: it’s their own fault. They were given a perfectly fair trial (conveniently featuring God as prosecutor, defense attorney, witness, and judge), and every last chance to return to the right path, but they stubbornly refused God’s lifeline. So they died.
But the subtext of Unetaneh Tokef tells a different story, referencing the Book of Job more than any other. For example, the “still small voice” of the Unetaneh Tokef text mirrors Job 4:16. The text of the next line of Unetaneh Tokef deals with angels, as does Job 4:18. Literally reading between the lines, we find Job 4:17: “Can humans be acquitted by God?”
The text and subtext vehemently disagree, so what looks like an answer — people die because God makes them — is really a question: What’s going on here?
The High Holidays in general are like that, and so too are our lives. We have a text. But we need the subtext to understand it. And the simple, clear answers are usually wrong.
Bible Translation, the Ten Commandments, and the Next Generation
I’m pleased to announce that my TEDx presentation on Bible translation, the Ten Commandments, and the next generation is on-line on TED.com and YouTube, as well as on my Exploring the Bible Videos site. Enjoy!
A Spate of Shortsightedness
I’m concerned by what I see as a spate of shortsightedness in this country.
Here are two examples.
Toner Cartridges
Last October, apparently, a terrorist group experimented with shipping explosives in toner-cartridge packages as a way of bringing down cargo aircraft. In response, the US government, through the TSA, “restricted the transport of printer and toner cartridges.”
To me, this kind of response is like seeing someone drive up to a government building with explosives in his Chevy and reacting by making it illegal to approach government buildings in a Chevy. It misses the broader point.
Even though the toner cartridges offered certain benefits, they were not central to the malicious plan. Yet four months of government work produced an inane, short-sighted response that focused on printer and toner cartridges, rather than on the real issues.
Nuclear Power Plants
In March, an earthquake-induced tsunami damaged the Fukushima nuclear reactors in Japan along with many of the auxiliary systems that were supposed to mitigate the impact from any potential damage. The result was partial reactor meltdowns, thousands of square miles of contaminated land, billions of dollars in damage, and as-yet unknown health consequences.
In response, officials here in the US looked at the degree to which nuclear reactors can withstand earthquakes and tsunamis, variously noting that those two events are unlikely in the areas where certain reactors are built, and that other reactors can withstand any likely earthquake.
But, again, the problem isn’t earthquakes or tsunamis per se. The problem is unexpected conditions. And it only took until last month for new unexpected conditions to surface. A fire broke out in Arizona that threatened the nuclear facility in Los Alimos. And floods forced the shutdown of two other nuclear power plants across the nation. Just last week, reports were published about jellyfish blocking the intake valves of cooling systems at some nuclear power plants.
Shortsightedness
It seems to me that what these decisions — and many more like them — have in common is shortsightedness. They are instances of reacting to a specific example of a broader problem by focusing on the example instead of the problem.
By and large, high-ranking policy advisers and nuclear engineers are not stupid. Surely they can see the folly of these decisions.
So I’m left wondering. What is it about our political and social systems that, apparently, makes it so difficult to react rationally?
Why I Allow Cell Phones in my Classes
In addition to my academic work and other writing, I teach children in the afternoon. And I let them use their cell phones during class.
Here’s why. (You may also want to start with a summary.)
Setting the Stage
It seems to me that the three questions to ask regarding any policy are:
1. What are the benefits?
2. What are the drawbacks?
3. Is the trade-off worth it?
Just to be clear, what I let my students do is use their phones for anything except actually talking: text messaging, Facebook, Internet, etc. are all allowed, because these activities, unlike talking, do not interfere with other students. And the phones have to be set to “silent.” (“Vibrate” doesn’t quite do it. On a metal desk, a vibrating phone can practically be heard throughout the building.)
Having discussed this issue with dozens of school principals and other educators, I know people have strong gut reactions to cell-phone use, and they often have misleading intuitions. So in addition to my own experiences, I’m including an extensive list of research-based resources that provide insight into the benefits and drawbacks of cell phones, and, more generally, technology and multitasking.
Misunderstandings
Many of the perceived drawbacks of cell phone use come from misunderstandings, so I think it makes sense to start there.
Why I Allow Cell Phone in my Classes (Summary)
This is a summary of a longer post about why I allow cell phones in my classes. That post contains extensive references to research, supporting information, and many more details. And that post, unlike this summary, also has comments enabled. So if you want to weigh in — and I hope you will! — that’s the place to do it.
My basic point is fourfold:
Most of the perceived drawbacks of cell phones are based on misunderstandings or partial understandings. Cell phones are not generally distracting for the children who use them — certainly adults tend to be more distracted by multitasking than children — and the phones may even make it easier for children to concentrate on class.
Second, letting children use their cell phones in class demonstrates an appreciation of who they are. They feel validated. They feel accepted. And this creates a better learning environment.
Third, cell phones augment the social experience of being in class. We don’t usually isolate children on purpose, but keeping them away from their phones is a kind of isolation.
Finally, cell phones are fun. Why wouldn’t we welcome this sort of enjoyment in class?
At any rate, I have more in the complete post, and I’d love feedback.
Teaching in London and Amsterdam
I’ve just returned from a wonderful trip to London and Amsterdam, where I taught in a variety in venues, including lecturing about And God Said, taking part in Limmud NL, and teaching children.
I posted fairly frequent updates on the official And God Said blog, and I won’t repost them all here.
Some of my favorite posts include:
- The Eurostar Biathlon, about how I just barely managed not to miss my train;
- Reflections on London;
- London, which includes photos of Hampton Court Palace and more; and
- Coming Home to JFK, which isn’t really a favorite, but I hope maybe someone will take notice and start to fix the airport, which — at the risk of offending the Third World — I call “an island of the Third World right here in the middle of the First.”
Enjoy.

Pastor Osteen just