Six years ago, my husband, Saul Strosberg, and I moved to Nashville, Tennessee. Saul had just graduated from Yeshivat Chovevei Torah Rabbinical School and had accepted the position of rabbi at Sherith Israel, the Orthodox synagogue in Nashville. For weeks after we made the move, I wondered what had made me agree to it. I had no family or friends within an eight-hour driving radius, no job lined up, and little sense of mission. Saul spoke with passion about the significance of interacting with the larger Jewish community, of helping to make Judaism relevant to all Jews, and of educating for the sake of helping others make purposeful decisions. He had grown up in upstate New York and was acutely aware of the intense impact that two individuals could have on a community. Growing up in Chicago, I had little experience to relate to this vision. I had been one of many Jewish students, one of many Jewish families, and one of multiple Jewish communities. In New York, I had been in the midst of the Scholars Circle program at Drisha Institute, with plans to pursue a Ph.D. in the development of law in Judaism and Islam. I was unclear how any of my dreams could be fulfilled in Nashville. Saul had offers in larger cities—but something about Nashville drew him. Young, idealistic and a bit naive, I chose not to analyze further. This decision would come from the heart—from my recognition that Saul’s passion, fervor, and commitment might be wasted in a big city.
For weeks after we made the move, I wondered what had made me agree to do it.
Although I was aware that there were many Jewish communities smaller than Nashville, I couldn’t help but wonder, from a New York perspective, what it would be like to live in a community that was not saturated with opportunities for Jewish text study, which had been such an integral part of my upbringing.
On our drive down, rock stations were replaced with country music and Christian broadcasting. We arrived at our shul. Of our neighbors, two buildings were churches; the third, a Baptist Bible college. Saul parked the car, and I felt the blood rush from my head, partly because it was 99 degrees outside and partly because I was overwhelmed with questions: How do our sources encourage us to serve Jews in other locations? Where do we learn to sacrifice our own learning to teach others the little that we know? I had rarely given these questions much thought before, but now there are few days when I have not asked myself one of these questions.
Greater Nashville supports a population of around 1.2 million, including just under 8,000 Jews, according to a 2002 population study—a number that remains current. The city has one Jewish day school and five synagogues: two Reform, one Conservative, one Orthodox, and one Chabad. The affiliation rate of Jews with Jewish institutions is about 83 percent, a figure that undoubtedly reflects the generally higher religious commitment of the South.
Vanderbilt University’s Jewish contingent has grown tremendously in the past five years and currently includes more than 1,000 Jews. Seventeen percent of the Vanderbilt freshman class identify as Jewish. Both a Hillel and a Chabad are on campus, as is a kosher café; kosher meat, wine, and cheese can be found at three local grocery stores in town.
Our community is one of the warmest and most welcoming I have ever been a part of. The five congregations, as well as the Gordon JCC, the Jewish Federation, and Jewish Family Service, support one another’s events by attending, promoting, and sometimes co-sponsoring them. Our rabbis take a yearly road trip together and meet to discuss the community as a whole. All the congregations offer education for both adults and children, although there are generally fewer resources for Jewish education than one would find in many larger Jewish communities.
As director of Judaics at Akiva School, I am most familiar with the day school community. Akiva School is a K-6 independent, pluralistic community school, 85 students strong, dedicated, according to its mission statement, to “pursue excellence, foster critical inquiry and inspire informed Jewish living.” As the one Jewish day school in Nashville, it is the only option for families seriously committed to Jewish education for their children.
Many Akiva parents are just beginning to realize the impact that Jewish studies can have on their children’s academic careers—which is a given in larger communities. Considering all the social pressures, no family in our school can be taken for granted, and any family’s commitment may waver from year to year. It takes confident and passionate parents to continue to send their child to a school when they feel they are thereby sacrificing their child’s social or athletic future.
Akiva students have a block of 80 minutes for Tanakh and Ivrit, as well as about 30 minutes for tefillah daily. In addition, the students learn about the hagim, the Jewish life-cycle, Jewish history, and Israel through typical school programs, celebrations, commemorations, and electives. There are currently no options for Akiva graduates to continue their Jewish day school education into middle school in Nashville. Although some students commit to learning once or twice a week in their synagogue’s Hebrew school, formal engagement with Jewish texts in a Jewish environment comes to an abrupt end after sixth grade. For the past four years, we offered an opportunity for Akiva alumni in seventh to twelfth grades to come one night a week for two hours to engage in serious text study and discussion at the school. Even though this proved to be a difficult commitment for many students, those who participated seemed to appreciate the experience. Although we did not offer the program this year, it is something we are thinking of reintroducing.
In Nashville, students are exposed to a culture that is heavily Christian. There is no doubt that living in the Bible Belt influences families’ decisions to affiliate with a synagogue. It is unclear, though, whether their affiliation reflects greater religious or spiritual commitment per se. At precisely the moment that our students begin to seriously tackle the difficult identity questions of adolescence, they graduate from Akiva.
This is why it is so critical that each student feels connected and recognizes his or her place in the larger Jewish community. As the director of Judaics, I quickly realized the incredible impact that each of the four members of the Jewish studies staff had on both the students and the school culture. What the students learn—their ability to relate to texts, to tradition, and to Israel—is almost solely dependent on four people. Trying to find teachers who speak Hebrew fluently, have a solid foundation in text study, and a commitment to our tradition is incredibly challenging for a number of reasons—including the salary a small school is capable of offering and the daunting move to a faraway city. Another challenge is providing teachers with professional development and continued opportunities to be refueled and reconnected to their Jewish identity.
Every day at Akiva, the individuals who have committed themselves to educating our youth—whether they are sh’lihim from Israel, longtime Nashville residents, or fresh out of college—give our students the opportunity to achieve the same Hebrew proficiency, critical thinking, and comfort with Jewish texts as students in much larger, established institutions. Our students enter class with a fresh excitement for what their teachers have to offer, and what they learn is, more often than not, something they could not learn in their homes or surrounding institutions.
As a teacher of the “bookends” of our school, kindergarten and sixth grade, I see all that the students have learned and am aware of how much further they could go were we to extend their day school education past sixth grade. I share our parents’ pride as they watch their children speak in Hebrew, tackle difficult texts in hevruta, and challenge their teachers to make every text, and every moment, meaningful. I question whether I would ever teach in another school with such commitment and spirit—a spirit to be found only in smaller Jewish communities.
Outside the day school community, I have offered adult education courses, taught Hebrew school, and facilitated the Matan Mother-Daughter Bat Mitzvah program at Sherith Israel. Because the decision to join a synagogue is based not always on religious observance but rather on the place a family feels most connected, Sherith Israel is composed of members of multiple backgrounds and affiliations. Learning with adults in the synagogue and elsewhere has been an incredibly rewarding and enriching experience. Often the focus for members in our community is how learning relates to their lives, and how their lives will be different once they leave the shi’ur. Their questions are often personal and emotional, and force me to feel my Judaism, as opposed to just thinking it.
Formal engagement with Jewish texts in a Jewish environment comes to an abrupt end after sixth grade.
Our synagogue’s Hebrew school is unusual because, in the main, our students attend because they want to be there, not because of parental pressure. Furthermore, many of the same students attend the day school.
Until now, the Hebrew school has offered the Matan Bat Mitzvah program only once, but it has had a great impact on the seven mothers and eight daughters involved, and on the larger community, in a number of ways. First, although the day school does not, for the most part, struggle with gender issues because it is a community school and goes only up to sixth grade, the issue of gender does come up in our shul for many reasons. Because so few of our members lead strictly Orthodox lives, it is imperative for our community to find ways to help every member feel included. Our synagogue has demonstrated its commitment to gender inclusivity by inviting women to deliver divrei Torah and to lead certain prayers on Shabbat, by using gendersensitive language when appropriate, by inviting female scholars in residence to teach to the community, and by expanding the opportunities afforded to b’not mitzvah. Although these changes have been welcomed by many members of our community, inevitably some members feel uncomfortable with them.
The Matan Bat Mitzvah program exposed parents to the complex text study that so many of their children tackle on a regular basis at Akiva. The program also helped create an aura of self-reflection as the girls and their mothers thought about their roles in the community and their position as part of the chain of Jewish women in history. Most importantly, this program was uniquely structured for our mothers and daughters.
For some families who felt less connected to Orthodoxy because of their perception of women’s roles, this class, along with a few opportunities for women’s tefillah held in the past three years, has helped them become more interested in strengthening their commitment to Judaism. In the context of the woman’s tefillah group, the empowerment and leadership afforded to the young women provide a connection that was missing in the regular service.
Our synagogue has also worked diligently to help each child find his or her voice in becoming b’nei mitzvah. The b’nei mitzvah program is tailor-made to challenge and bring meaning to each child and his/her family. Both boys and girls give divrei Torah, read Torah, lead parts of services, write pamphlets on bi’ur tefillah, lead kiddush and havdalah, and act as gabbai’im and gabbai’ot. Even though the girls realize the limitations on what they can do in the Orthodox service compared to the boys, they notice their increased opportunities and recognize a community genuinely interested in helping them grow as committed, active, and passionate Jewish young adults.
I have had the opportunity to continue my passion for academic Jewish studies at Vanderbilt and have spent summers learning at both Drisha and Pardes. As I look forward to the time when I can pursue my Ph.D., I recognize that I will approach any doctoral program with a greater and more nuanced appreciation for the gift of learning than I previously had. I have learned that not all students have the same opportunities to learn Jewish texts or have role models to make these texts come alive. I have learned that the teachers in my school carry great responsibility to provide their students with the very best Jewish education they can offer.
As I drive to Akiva every morning, I wonder how we will be able to continue to raise the level of learning in our school and in our Nashville community. There are mornings when I feel the need to inspire families to reach for more and to understand that sometimes Jewish education needs to come at the sacrifice of other interests. On all mornings, I recognize the opportunity that I have had in Nashville to teach, to learn, to inspire, and to be inspired. It is one that few people receive unless challenged to step beyond their comfort zone. Judaism can be relevant, inspirational, and completely alive in different kinds of communities, and it is up to each of us to grapple with what part we have in this future.