Hebrew schools are cheapening Jewish involvement. Here’s how, and what we can do about it.

By Shai Kamin

“It is a mitzvah for a person to make a meal on the day his son becomes Bar Mitzvah as on the day he enters the wedding canopy.”

- Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 225:2, Magen Avraham ad loc

“A synagogue was infested with rats. The rabbi called in an exterminator, who said he’d get rid of them, but a week later, the rats were back. The rabbi had the exterminator in again, but a month later, the rats were back. He called in the exterminator for the third time, but this time the exterminator said, ‘I don’t think I can help you. These are very stubborn rats.’ The rabbi was about to give up, when suddenly an idea came to him. ‘I know!’ he said. ‘I’ll just bar mitzvah them all, and then they’ll never return!’ ”

-Old Joke

Few American Jewish communities are as affluent and erudite as that of the North Shore of Chicago, where I grew up. A visiting friend once remarked that he could never pray at a certain Highland Park synagogue again, after witnessing the fashion-show-like parade of wealth that was the Saturday morning service. Part of growing up in this community meant attending Bar and Bat Mitzvah parties that rivaled fancy weddings in their extravagance.

There was a Bat Mitzvah on a yacht and a party at which the dance prizes were iPods. Nearly all of the members of my community have heard about or been to one of these boastful displays of wealth. Many decry this “MTV’s My Super Sweet 16”-style Bar Mitzvah, though likely only after enjoying it without complaint. While the modern Bar Mitzvah party may be emblematic of the larger sociological problem of severe wealth inequality and the boastful attitude of the wealthy individuals who choose to throw these types of parties, from a purely Jewish perspective there is an aspect to the Bar Mitzvah that is far more pernicious. Many rightly decry the travesty of the modern Bar Mitzvah as an emblematic sign of our culture of excess, but I wish to focus instead on the religious aspects of the Bar Mitzvah and argue that the far more pressing issue facing the Jewish community—especially the American Jewish community—is the nature of this ceremony and the influences it has on our education and continued Jewish involvement.

Background

What little has been said about the Bar Mitzvah has focused on the oddness of this tradition, which seems to have sprung up from almost nothing during the Middle Ages as an important Jewish lifecycle event, though the origin of the Bat Mitzvah ceremony was not until 1922. Neither of these ceremonies, despite the disparity in their inauguration, was of serious importance to the Jewish communities that practiced them until mid-twentieth century America. The idea of becoming a Bar Mitzvah, one who is responsible for keeping the commandments, stems from the Talmud, though there is no reference to a ceremony other than possibly having the child blessed by a kohen (priest).[1] The origins of the traditions of receiving an aliyah, reading Torah or Haftarah, or giving a d’var Torah are unclear, but there is certainly no halakhic necessity for these actions. Still, the Bar/Bat Mitzvah ceremony has become one of the primary images of Judaism in the secular world, and is one of the most practiced “Jewish activities” among non-religious Jews, along with the celebration of Hanukkah and the Passover Seder.[2]

Though this rite of passage seems harmless, I fear that the current notion of the Bar Mitzvah is a major detriment to the growth of an intelligent, committed non-Orthodox Jewish community. Granted, my critiques of the institution of the Bar Mitzvah largely do not apply to the Orthodox. To apologists for Orthodoxy, this essay will seem irrelevant, and the communities I describe will most likely be entirely foreign. It is, instead, to the non-Orthodox Jews who are committed to Jewish education and the creation of strong Jewish communities that I direct these words.

The Problem

The Bar/Bat Mitzvah is an accomplishment. It is the culmination of months or even years of preparation and study. As such, it is undoubtedly seen as an end. A life cycle event that marks an end is not wrong in itself — think of graduations or funerals. But, to think of a Bar Mitzvah as an end is antithetical to what it is supposed to represent — the beginning of halakhic responsibility, the start of serious Jewish education and an adult relationship with the tradition. Our focus on doing something on the day of the Bar Mitzvah instead of marking it as a special birthday distracts us from what the day really means.

Instead, I have seen firsthand—during the three years I spent working in a Hebrew school—the staggering drop in Hebrew School enrollment immediately after the B’nei Mitzvah season. A teacher frequently said to her students that they should work hard or they would not be ready for their “Bar Mitzvahs” or that they should listen particularly closely to a certain lesson because it was important for their B’nei Mitzvah ceremonies. The role of this life cycle event in Jewish communities is enormous, and it becomes the primary goal of the students to “complete” their B’nei Mitzvah. How ironic is it then, that there is a correlation between children “completing” their B’nei Mitzvah and abandoning their Jewish education? They become children of the commandments just as they cut off their ties to learning those commandments.

I generalize, but the sad truth is that this abandonment is the case for the majority of children in non-Orthodox institutions. There are also undoubtedly other causes for these unfortunate realities, but our mentality regarding the Bar Mitzvah is no small contributor to this abandonment. Who can blame these children and their parents? The idea that Jewish education ends with the Bar Mitzvah has been drilled into their heads by the American Jewish community, and the unfailing focus that Hebrew schools place on this “goal” can only reinforce their mindset. This focus, compounded with the broader secular focus on the Bar Mitzvah as a central event in the life of a Jew (clearly evidenced by the role it has played in movies like Deconstructing Harry and Keeping the Faith and TV shows like Seinfeld and The Simpsons), has created a culture where this event is seen as the culmination of the Jewish experience. To the extent that the Bar Mitzvah has become this culmination, it has also become an end in itself and a point after which continued Jewish education and communal involvement seems unnecessary.

To those involved in these synagogue communities, the crisis of Jewish education is wholly self-evident. One important study in the field was that of Walter I. Ackerman, who concluded in 1989 that the supplementary and elementary nature of Hebrew school Jewish education prevents it from having a long term impact on adult Jewish involvement, showing that “Jewish schooling does not have a statistically significant impact on adult religiosity until there are approximately 3000 hours of attendance.”[3] In other words, there was no statistical difference in the religious activity of people who had attended Hebrew school for five years and those who had never attended. Far more pressing were the results of a study published in 2000, when researchers at Brandeis University conducted a study of about 1300 American Reform, Reconstructionist, Conservative, and independent B’nei Mitzvah who had been active in some Jewish communal activity in the seventh grade (with an oversample of Jewish day school attendees). These researchers found that by the time these teenagers reached their senior year of high school, about half of them had dropped Jewish communal or educational activities entirely.[4]

The Brandeis study comes as no real shock to anyone even marginally involved with Jewish education. My chiddush (new insight) is only that the Bar Mitzvah itself contributes to this crisis. The study repeatedly stressed that all of the study’s participants had a Bar or Bat Mitzvah and mentioned the importance of post-Bar Mitzvah education as it relates to continued Jewish involvement. The most important question, though, is avoided: why even distinguish between pre- and post-Bar Mitzvah education? Why does Jewish education end at the Bar Mitzvah? Something about this event must create the impression that no more Jewish education is necessary. The sense of completion that comes from our attitude towards the Bar Mitzvah ceremony is a natural barrier to further study.

Some might object here (and not inappropriately) that we Jews have been worried about a crisis of Jewish education for thousands of years. Rabbis actively burned Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah because they thought that it was too accessible and would lead people away from studying Talmud, and the Mitnagdim were threatened by the perceived anti-intellectualism of early Hasidim and viewed it as a peril to Jewish education. Yet, Jewish education survived both of these apparent threats, so perhaps we are overreacting, jumping at every new perceived crisis. Shall we let the boy who cried wolf perish because his earlier calls for help were mendacious? Such inductive reasoning—arguing that perceived threats are not dangerous because past threats were resolved—desensitizes the Jewish community to self-critique. We cannot treat every problem like it is the end of the world, but neither does that mean that we can let these small problems amass until we reach a tipping point, to paraphrase a popular teaching from Pirkei Avot. It is essential that we take note of these real issues and try to do something about them, even if this crisis will not be the death of Jewish education.

Children who end their Jewish education at their B’nei Mitzvah can still become committed adult Jews, but the chance that they will is decidedly diminished. If one ends one’s Jewish education at thirteen, even as an adult, one maintains childish conceptions of Judaism. No other subject can be sufficiently explored and completed by the age of thirteen. No child could claim to be well versed in mathematics or literature by seventh grade, and none but the most new-age of schools would let a child stop taking math courses because she had won a competition and felt accomplished enough (or her parents thought she was accomplished enough) to stop studying math.

Solutions

One potential solution is to scrap the ceremony, keep the party, and celebrate the Bar Mitzvah in the rabbinic way: a few blessings from the kohen, a nice meal with the extended family, and a deejay. Not only is the Bar Mitzvah ceremony merely a recent tradition, it is detrimental to the Jewish experience. Those in the minhag k’halakha[5] camp must recognize that a tradition can only receive the status of law if it does not contradict the Torah. Thus, a tradition that is shown to lead to an abandonment of Jewish communal involvement and further education—an end to talmud Torah—cannot be kept, especially when it is new and carries little halakhic weight. Some will argue that their B’nei Mitzvah ceremonies were filled with meaning and spiritual fulfillment: great for them, but the statistics just are not there. Whatever temporary spiritual fulfillment this ceremony provides is just not translating into Jewish continuity — not even the most marginal continued Jewish communal involvement or education. In short, Jewish milestones cannot be kept when they do more harm than good. There must be a better way to impart the spiritual fulfillment without allowing so many others to leave the tradition without looking back.

I hope that we can one day shed ourselves of this minhag shtut (silly custom), or at least rid ourselves of its overwhelming negative effects by decentralizing its role or changing the ceremony. Practically, my proposal probably will not be enacted – I understand the role the Bar Mitzvah ceremony currently plays in both Jewish and secular circles, and how ingrained it is in the American mindset (in a weird twist on the traditional notion of minhag k’halacha). This mindset, more than anything else, is what we must change, because it is only then that we can diminish the importance of this ceremony. It is precisely the mindset that grants the Bar Mitzvah its cultural importance, which is one main reason behind its role as the end of Jewish education. This mindset creates the state we are in, where the fact is that many Jewish parents are only giving their kids this minimal Jewish education because of the fact that they will have a Bar or Bat Mitzvah at the end of it. If we eliminate the Bar Mitzvah without changing the mindset, these parents will simply find someone else that will give it to them or, worse, will drop any Jewish affiliation whatsoever. These outcomes are clearly undesirable. Shall we punish these kids, hindering their ability to receive any Jewish education, because of the flawed mindset of their parents?

The classic solution to the problem, which Jewish educators have been touting for years, is Jewish day school. It is certainly true that Jewish day school students are more likely to continue their Jewish educations and communal involvement than Hebrew school students. It is also true that in my Jewish middle school the Bar Mitzvah was much less important; it was not so much a special accomplishment as a universal expectation. The Monday after our B’nei Mitzvah ceremonies, we were back in class studying Mishnah and Tanach. Even so, day schools alone cannot fix this problem. Not everyone can afford day school. Suggesting Jewish day school as a better alternative to Hebrew school is important, but we should not forsake those who have no choice but to attend Hebrew school or who want to attend public schools. Therefore, we cannot use Jewish day school as a crutch, the solution to all of our problems. We must instead find and fix the problems that exist in Hebrew schools, in order to minimize its disadvantages and provide a solid Jewish education for anyone who seeks it.

Additionally, Jewish day school does not solve the problem of the Bar Mitzvah because in the end it does the same thing—usually a year later. Most Jewish day schools finish in eighth grade, which, in the absence of future Jewish education, causes the same childish conceptions of Judaism as stopping Jewish education after the Bar Mitzvah does. Granted, people who graduate from day school are often much better educated in terms of Judaism and also much more likely to pursue higher Jewish education than those who graduate from Hebrew school, but this is by no means a guarantee. The Brandeis study used a disproportionate sample of day school children in order to try to distinguish them from their public school peers. They found, however, that the result for these students is often comparable to their public school peers, claiming that the decline in Jewish participation is due “primarily to cessation of formal Jewish education.” This is reflected in my personal experience, as many of my friends who went from day schools to public high schools severed all ties to Jewish education and communal activity. In pressing the issue with these friends, I often found, just as they found in the Brandeis study, that doing so was primarily a product of the attempt to blend in.

One plausible solution to the dilemma of the cessation of formal Jewish education is Jewish private high school, but it is really just avoiding the problem. For one, it is subject to the same cost barrier. Additionally, though I wholeheartedly support Jewish high school, keeping kids in a bubble for longer is not the answer. For though it will reduce the statistical probability that they will abandon Jewish education and communal involvement when they are adults, where does it end? Should they go to Jewish college as well? Live in only Jewish communities? This reminds me too much of ultra-Orthodoxy, and I believe that we should be able to exist in the secular world and still maintain Jewish involvement. The nature of that involvement may vary, but it is necessary to create a vibrant Jewish community.

I put aside Jewish education, for though it is important I also know that it will not be solved in this essay. What remains is the question of how to change and keep the Bar Mitzvah. While I ultimately think that the nature of the Bar Mitzvah ceremony and the culture surrounding it will eventually lead to an abandonment of Jewish involvement, there are ways to stem the tide of this abandonment — to work within the framework of the Bar Mitzvah to reduce the decline. Perhaps we should force parents to take simultaneous courses with their children in preparation for the ceremony. In this way, the children will get a sense of Jewish continuity, and understand that Jewish education and involvement does not end with the Bar Mitzvah. This solution sounds nice and will probably work for a chunk of these families, but I am ultimately afraid of the laziness of many of these parents and the possibility that they will simply join another synagogue with no such obligations.

Another possible way to reframe the Bar Mitzvah is to focus more on Jewish skills, especially those useful for further Jewish education and communal involvement. Those skills might include reading Torah and leading davening, but could also include Biblical interpretation, studies in Jewish history, Jewish text study, or Jewish philosophy. How to make these skills part of a ceremony is difficult, but the message would be key: these are skills that will facilitate communal membership and further study. Ultimately, I think that the Bar Mitzvah ceremony needs either to be abandoned or severely reduced in its significance. I understand that the world cannot or will not currently accept this, and I welcome further ideas for changing it so as to prevent the serious decline in Jewish involvement that it so clearly causes.

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[1] Talmud, Masechet Soferim, 18:5

[2] Mark Oppenheimer, Thirteen and a Day: The Bar and Bat Mitzvah Across America (New York: Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, 2005), 3-20.

[3] Walter I. Ackerman, “Strangers to the Tradition: Idea and Constraint in American Jewish Education,” Jewish Population Studies 21 (Jewish Education Worldwide: Cross-Cultural Perspectives: 1989), 71-116.

[4] Charles Kadushin, Saul Kelner, and Leonard Saxe, “Being A Jewish Teenager in America: Trying to Make It.”. (Cohen Center for Modern Jewish Studies, Brandeis University, 2000)

[5] The rabbinic notion that Jewish traditions can become as binding as Jewish law.