Ethan Zadoff
My friend Hillel Rapp’s recent reflections on the shifting landscape of Israel education in Modern Orthodox schools raise important, urgent, and necessary questions about how we teach the history of Israel, and in a larger sense Jewish history, in the wake of October 7. His analysis forces us to confront a fundamental tension: how do we maintain academic and historical honesty while also fortifying Jewish identity in a time of increasing external hostility? As someone deeply engaged in the Modern Orthodox Yeshiva day school world, I take seriously, as we all should, the challenge he presents. As Rapp notes, the past decades have seen a move toward nuance and critical engagement in Israel education, but given today’s realities, we need to ask whether the emphasis on complexity has come at the cost of clarity, and whether the framework of dual narratives has truly served our students in the long term.
While my reflections here are rooted in the Yeshiva day school educational context, the issues at stake extend far beyond it. Jewish education has always been a values proposition, and the events of October 7 only underscore the necessity of reaffirming this reality. What we teach, how we teach, why we teach, and how we structure our curricula must be shaped by the values we seek to instill. Our task as educators is not merely to present narrative or history but to ensure that history serves as a foundation for identity, resilience, and communal responsibility. Where Rapp leaves the question of next steps largely unanswered, I offer my own reflections and path forward grounded in a simple proposition – that an inward-facing, values-driven approach must now be at the center of Jewish history and Israel education. In the wake of October 7, Jewish educators writ large face a stark reality: our teaching is not, nor has it ever been, neutral. The way we teach Israel and Jewish history is inherently a values proposition—a reflection of what we hold dear, what we want our students to internalize, and how we see their place in the Jewish world. This moment demands that we ensure our curriculum is rooted in the values that will guide our students as they navigate an increasingly complex and often hostile world.
Jewish history education has always been about more than just the past. It is about identity formation, the transmission of values, and the cultivation of a moral and communal consciousness. Jewish history is not merely a collection of facts or a detached academic discipline; it is a living narrative, one that informs our sense of self and shapes our collective future. The stories we tell, the figures we emphasize, and the lessons we extract from history are not arbitrary choices but deliberate reflections of what we believe matters most. Whether we choose to focus on resilience, ethical responsibility, communal solidarity, engagement with the other, or matters and development of faith, we are making a statement about the kind of Jewish identity we hope to instill in our students.
For decades, many Jewish schools and educators sought to balance the teaching of history as both an academic discipline and a tool for identity formation.[1] The prevailing assumption was that Jewish history – the history of Israel included – could be taught with the same academic rigor as other subjects while also serving as a means of reinforcing communal and religious identity. This balance has always been delicate, but the events of October 7 have thrown it into sharp relief. If there was once an impulse to embrace dual narratives or to frame Israel education through the lens of competing historical perspectives, that impulse now feels increasingly misaligned with our core educational mission. The current reality in public discourse is not one of academic or historical debate, but of ideological warfare in which Jews and Israel are cast as a settler-colonial state with no right to exist. Many students now experience their public and private identities as Jews and Zionists not as an intellectual position or religious belief but as a moral litmus test, where they must either declare allegiance or attempt to remain unseen. At a time when our students are being bombarded with external narratives that seek to undermine their sense of self, our responsibility is to fortify them with deep and meaningful convictions that foster identity formation and growth.
This imperative forces us to confront a fundamental tension between academic history and a values-driven curriculum. Academic history, by its nature, demands objectivity and critical analysis.[2] It calls for a rigorous examination of sources, a skeptical stance towards dominant narratives, and a commitment to uncovering historical truths, even when they complicate communal memory. By contrast, a values-driven approach to Jewish history is not merely about scholarly inquiry; it is about shaping a worldview, instilling moral clarity, and providing students with the tools to understand their place within the Jewish story. It is an education that seeks not just to inform but to inspire, not just to analyze but to affirm.
How do we reconcile these two approaches, especially when their objectives seem to diverge or even conflict? Ostensibly, by recognizing that history education, in any form, is never truly neutral. Every historian operates with a set of assumptions and priorities, every curriculum is shaped by the perspectives of those who design it, and every classroom discussion is influenced by the implicit values of the teacher. Rather than pretending that we can teach Jewish history with detached objectivity, we must embrace the reality that our teaching is always framed by the varying and at times disparate commitments we hold. That does not mean abandoning rigor or critical thinking. On the contrary, it means ensuring that our students engage with history in a way that is intellectually honest while also being rooted in a deep sense of identity and purpose.[3]
This question of balance becomes even more urgent when we turn to Israel education. In recent decades, Jewish schools, as noted by Rapp, particularly modern orthodox schools, sought to teach Israel through a framework that emphasized complexity and competing narratives.[4] This approach, often rooted in the belief that exposure to multiple perspectives would foster critical thinking, was seen as a way to prepare students for engagement with broader intellectual and political discourse, particularly on college campuses. By exposing them to various accounts of historical events and encouraging open-mindedness, educators aimed to foster empathy, develop critical thinking skills, and cultivate a readiness for respectful dialogue.
But October 7 shattered the illusion that balanced narratives were a sufficient foundation for Israel education.[5] The focus on duality, however well-intentioned, has come at a cost. In striving to engage other viewpoints with intellectual honesty, the formal classroom curriculum often relegated to the periphery the vital task of cultivating a deep, self-assured sense of Jewish identity. The meaning and significance of Zionism (widely conceived but often religious Zionism for modern orthodox schools) were in many cases not explored with the same level of intensity and introspection as the opposing narratives. As a result, students learned to see Israel through multiple lenses but did not always gain the firm grounding necessary to withstand both external challenges and personal doubts. The events of October 7 exposed the fragility of this approach, highlighting a pressing need to ensure that our students not only understand other perspectives but also possess a robust grasp of their own heritage, moral imperatives, and responsibilities to the Jewish people.
If Jewish history education is about instilling values from our past for our present, then Israel education must be about fostering commitment.[6] The purpose of teaching about Israel is not to leave students questioning its legitimacy but to ensure that they emerge from our classrooms with a deep, unwavering sense of connection. This does not mean ignoring difficult questions, shielding students from complexity or burying the past. But it does mean that we must be intentional about our priorities. Before our students can engage with alternative narratives, they must first have a firm grasp and understanding of their own. Before they can debate Israel’s challenges, they must internalize the meaning and reality that its existence is a miracle, its survival a triumph, and its defense a sacred responsibility.
October 7 reinforced what many have long suspected: the world does not see Jewish history as we do, and it is our responsibility to teach it from within, not from the outside looking in. More than ever, we must be deliberate about the values we choose to emphasize, the narratives we prioritize, and the sense of identity we cultivate in our students. This is not a rejection of academic rigor. It is an assertion that Jewish education is, first and foremost, about strengthening Jewish identity, commitment, and resilience. It is about ensuring that when our students learn about Jewish history and Israel, they do so with the clarity of conviction, the strength of purpose, and the deep awareness that they are part of something greater than themselves.
But when we get down to it, what are these values we look to instill, to serve at the heart of our Israel and Jewish history education?
At the heart of this values-driven approach is a deep and unshakable commitment to Jewish peoplehood. For generations, Jews have understood themselves not simply as individuals practicing a private faith, but as members of a collective—a nation, a family, a people bound together by shared memory, shared destiny, and shared responsibility. Today, as our students witness a surge in antisemitism and a coordinated assault on Israel’s legitimacy, this value must be reasserted with even greater force. They must understand that their connection to the Jewish people is not conditional, not situational, but an inheritance that comes with both privileges and obligations.
Integral to this identity is the relationship between Jews and the Land of Israel. The connection between the Jewish people and Eretz Yisrael is not merely political, but historical, religious, and existential. It is a relationship that predates modern Zionism by millennia, embedded in Jewish texts, practice, and consciousness. The rebirth of Jewish sovereignty in the land is not just an accident of history; it is the fulfillment of a national longing that has sustained Jewish life in exile for generations. Students must be taught to understand that Israel is not simply a place Jews happen to live, but a central pillar of Jewish identity itself.
Jewish history also teaches a lesson that is particularly urgent today: resilience, Netzach Yisrael. The story of Jewish history is not simply one of persecution, but of extraordinary achievement in the face of adversity. When our students learn about the Jewish past, they must see themselves as part of a chain that has withstood and transcended the challenges of every era. Their role is not just to remember, but to carry that story forward.
But resilience alone is not enough. Jewish history education and Israel education must also cultivate moral clarity—the ability to differentiate between right and wrong, between legitimate criticism and ideological attack, between self-defense and aggression. The events of October 7 have shown just how dangerous moral equivocation can be, particularly in an age of social media. Jewish students must be equipped with a framework that allows them to see through false narratives and stand firm in their convictions. This does not mean rejecting critical inquiry; rather, it means recognizing that certain ideas—justice, self-preservation, and the right of the Jewish people to their homeland—are non-negotiable.
At the same time, a values-driven education must be intellectually rigorous. Students must be taught to engage critically with history—not as passive recipients of a predetermined narrative, but as thinkers capable of grappling with complexity while remaining anchored in their identity. This means learning to differentiate between historical facts and ideological distortions, between genuine moral dilemmas and manipulative rhetoric. It means ensuring that students are not just emotionally connected to Israel and Jewish history, but also intellectually prepared to defend them.
Finally, perhaps the most important value we must cultivate today is a sense of responsibility. Jewish history is not something that happens to other people; it is something that each generation has the responsibility to carry forward.[7] Our students are not just inheritors of the Jewish story—they are its next authors.
These values must form the foundation of Jewish history and Israel education today. In an era where Jewish identity is under attack, our schools cannot simply provide knowledge; they must provide conviction. The world is trying to tell our students who they should be. It is our job, as educators, to ensure that they have the strength, the confidence, and the clarity to reject those pressures and stand firmly as Jews, rooted in their history and ready to shape the future. Now is the time to double down on identity formation, to teach with conviction grounded in values, and to shape a generation that knows who they are and stands proudly in that knowledge. If Jewish history and Israel education are values propositions, then we must embrace that reality with confidence, ensuring that our students emerge not just informed but inspired, not just knowledgeable but committed. The events of October 7 have made this responsibility clearer than ever. The question is whether we will rise to meet it.
[1] Hillel David Rapp, “Considering The Changing Landscape in Modern Orthodox Israel Education,” The Lehrhaus, February 4, 2025, https://thelehrhaus.com/commentary/considering-the-changing-landscape-in-modern-orthodox-israel-education/.
[2] Contrast this with Gaddis: “For if you think of the past as a landscape, then history is the way we represent it, and it’s that act of representation that lifts us above the familiar to let us experience vicariously what we can’t experience directly: a wider view.” John Lewis Gaddis, The Landscape of History: How Historians Map the Past, Oxford University Press, 2004. See also the perspective offered by GR Elton: “The task of history is to understand the past, and if the past is to be understood it must be given full respect in its own right. And unless it is properly understood, any use of it in the present must be suspect and can be dangerous.” John Tosh, Historians on History (Routledge, 2017).
[3] Yehuda Kurtzer. Shuva: The Future of the Jewish Past. UPNE, 2012.
[4] Sivan Zakai and Matt Reingold, Teaching Israel: Studies of Pedagogy from the Field (Brandeis University Press, 2024).
[5] Ammiel Hirsch, “It Is Still October 7,” accessed February 28, 2025, https://sapirjournal.org/friends-and-foes/2024/03/it-is-still-october-7/
[6] Barry Chazan, A Philosophy of Israel Education: A Relational Approach (Springer, 2016).
[7] Kurtzer, Shuva: The Future of the Jewish Past; Amos Funkenstein, Perceptions of Jewish History (University of California Press, 2023); Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi, Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory (University of Washington Press, 2011).
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