Reading about Rabbi Ethan Daniel Davidson and his journey toward ordination was truly heartening (“Musician, author and philanthropist Ethan Daniel Davidson adds rabbi to his many hats,” eJewishPhilanthropy, Sept. 17). His odyssey, as he says, reads like a comic book. Denied a Jewish day school education, his circuitous path to seeking out Jewish knowledge and literacy eventually brought him to become a most unorthodox (in the secular sense of the term) rabbi.

One paragraph in particular prompted me to reflect and share a few thoughts:

“Today, he doesn’t care if Jews are religious or not, but he wants to offer them the opportunity to study through day schools and camps. ‘I want to make Judaism unavoidable,’ he said, because through studying the Torah, Jews learn to bring light into the world.”

Rabbi Davidson’s comment gave me pause. What exactly does he mean by “religious”? For that matter, what do any of us mean when we use that term, or when we refer to “practicing Jews”? These words are tossed around so often, yet their definitions remain elusive.

What makes a Jew religious? Is it someone whose life is guided by Jewish values, whether derived from ancient texts or formed through a personal moral compass? Is it someone who feels a connection to God or a Higher Power? Or does it mean someone who strictly observes Shabbat and keeps kosher?

And what constitutes Jewish practice? Does it include giving tzedakah and engaging in gemilut chassadim (acts of lovingkindness), or is it limited to ritual observance? If it’s only the latter, I believe we’re missing something essential.

At my organization, the Jewish Education Innovation Challenge, we focus on what we call “God-centered learning,” which means helping Jewish day school students develop and nurture a personal and communal relationship with the Power Above, whatever that means to them. Inspiring students’ relationship with God fosters their creation of enduring meaning from Jewish values, literacy, practice and belief to sustain the Jewish people. Based on this approach, I think it is important to eliminate the notion that only Jews who are classically ritually observant are “religious.”

Let me share a personal story. In the 1960s and early ’70s, I attended Bais Yaakov School for Girls in Baltimore — the only Jewish girls’ school in a city without any Jewish co-ed middle or high schools at the time. Naturally, the teachings reflected a strictly Orthodox worldview.

When I reached high school, my mother decided I would also attend the Baltimore Hebrew College High School: a multi-day afternoon program of Hebrew language and Judaic studies designed for public school students. (To my sorrow, the program has long since closed.) My mother told me my understanding of the Jewish world was far too narrow, shaped exclusively by my Orthodox school. And she was right. At BHCHS, I encountered Jewish history, Tanach and modern Hebrew through entirely new lenses. So, each day after my regular school ended at 4:30 p.m., I headed to Hebrew High — and it broadened my Jewish identity profoundly.

From that experience, I came to see that one can be ritually observant yet not particularly “religious,” and one can be a practicing Jew even without observing Shabbat or kashrut according to strict halachic standards.

To me, being “religious” means identifying as part of the Jewish people, feeling a unique connection to God and striving to live in alignment with one’s beliefs. Being a “practicing Jew” means engaging in actions — whether spiritual, ethical or communal — that are rooted in Jewish values. Every time someone does something to uplift their soul, care for others or bring goodness into the world because of their Jewish identity, they are practicing Judaism.

I should add: my personal observance is Orthodox — I try to fulfill every mitzvah as I understand it to the best of my ability. But I also believe that each person must forge their own path toward God, Torah and the Jewish People.

We Jews make up a statistically tiny portion of the global population, and yet we face outsized scrutiny and threats. Now more than ever, we need to stand united to ensure our people’s future. As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks beautifully put it, we should see ourselves “non-adjectivally as a Jew: not as a member of this or that group, but as a member of an indivisible people.”

Or as Rabbi Davidson succinctly put it: “I’m just Jewish… That’s enough trouble.”

Sharon Freundel is the managing director of the Jewish Education Innovation Challenge.