I got into Jewish education the day my first-grade child came home from Hebrew school and told me, “I know why it hurts when a woman gives birth — it’s a punishment from God!” 

My husband and I were shocked; such a hyper-traditionalist (and patriarchal) approach to Genesis 3:16 was way out of line with our congregation’s approach to Judaism. How did this happen? 

At that time, our small congregation’s religious school was taught by local college students using prepackaged materials from mainstream Jewish publishers. The version of Torah they contained was greatly simplified and followed by questions that didn’t scratch much beyond the surface-level interpretation. When I went to the shul to talk about our experience, the head of the school said that if I didn’t like what was going on, I should become the Torah teacher. 

One week later, I was leading Torah studies for my child’s class. 

Taking on this role started the journey of a lifetime as I struggled to translate to our Jewish learning space what I’d learned as a professionally trained educator and former public school teacher with a background in Montessori and other progressive ways of teaching children. From my experience teaching and parenting, I knew that children are capable of asking deep and rich questions and can understand complex ideas; but I faced questions about how I could make the English translations from the Chumash relatable to children. How would I get the children to listen to our ancient text, wrestle with the content and come up with their own ideas about what they were reading? How could we engage with the Torah from the critical thinking perspectives that children of various ages possess? 

I began exploring what others were doing in the field of progressive Jewish education. I figured that there have to be other schools like ours with educators who want their children to wrestle with the text. But I wasn’t easily finding what I sought. More often, what was available were teaching materials that felt like more of the same — simplified versions of text, with no strategies to deepen children’s understanding.

Ten years later, I took over as director of our school. At that same time, I learned about the work of Rabbi Rebecca Milder at the Jewish Enrichment Center in Chicago. To put it mildly, it rocked my world.

Rabbi Milder spoke of creating a Jewish education that sees children as co-creators of Judaism. This was the model I had been seeking! As an educator and as a parent, I learned more and more about Rabbi Milder’s school. I began to implement some of Milder’s methods in the learning spaces at our synagogue; we added student-choice projects, for instance, offering more and different types of small classes within our curriculum. 

In 2023, by a series of beautiful coincidences, I ended up meeting Rabbi Milder and touring the school in Chicago, newly renamed the Institute for Jewish Enrichment (IJE). It was clear to me from looking at the children’s work and visiting their classrooms that these children were deeply engaged in text, forging their own interpretations of our tradition’s ancient words. 

Several months later, I was hired to do an archival study of the organization’s history. As part of this work, I spent a week observing the teaching and learning at the school. The first time I watched children engage in text study at the IJE, it took my breath away. Educators at the IJE open space for children’s voices and thoughts, and give time for deep wondering and wrestling. 

Now, each day, I immerse myself in photos, teacher notes and interview transcripts that document IJE children’s learning from the first 13 years of the school’s life. These materials reveal the exquisite attention educators give to the voices of children as they engage in dialogue with our ancient and ongoing Jewish tradition. 

Early on in this work, I was astonished to find an opportunity for a side-by-side comparison illustrating the alternative that IJE’s approach offers: In 2019, students at IJE had wrestled with the same bit of Genesis 3 that had started me on this road when my son had come home quoting the passage as the reason for pain in birthing. Here’s the translation the IJE offered to children:

“To the isha [woman], he said, 

‘I will make your pains very bad when you give birth. In pain you’ll have children. 

You will long for your husband, but he will rule over you.’”

With the support of their educators, the children in Chicago slowed down, wrestled with the text and wondered: Why didn’t Adonai (God) give them a second chance? A first-grader opined: 

“[Second chances] are almost everywhere. When they have a mistake or do something wrong, if they don’t get a second chance it would get everything messed up and the whole world would be messed up, would explode.” 

Children at the IJE thought about the implications of the types of forever punishments given to Adam, Eve and the snake. What would happen in real life if such punishments were to happen? A fourth-grader at the IJE mused: 

“You’re pretty much ruining one person’s life and they would unleash their anger on someone else, and then they’d do some other bad thing. And the person that they did a bad thing to, would do another bad thing to another person because they’re not happy. Adonai doesn’t get anything out of — no one gets anything out of — having one person punished. He shouldn’t have punished the snake that badly. There’s just no reason to.” 

Whereas my son had been offered only a lesson about pain as punishment, children at the IJE were given space to grapple actively and develop their own meaning, a lesson about teshuvah (repenting/returning). 

Today, I work to blend all that I’m learning from my work with the IJE team into my own teaching. We’re just getting started on this road, but already I see the Torah text we study this way sinking into my community’s children in beautiful ways. Recently, a child reflected on God’s promise to Avram (Abram) in Genesis 15 by representing God’s promise as a shield of stars encircling Avram. He pointed out the Star of David that hung from my neck as he worked. Just like that. What an amazing connection.

As I grow my own practice, I grapple with the way I’ve always done things and the way I am seeking to change in order to give my community’s children the same space and voice that children at IJE receive. Some key thoughts I hold as I move forward:

• A big part of starting this change is trusting the children in our learning spaces. We need to start with, “Yes, they can do it!” We need to provide an age-appropriate translation of the text, take the time to teach our children how to engage the text and one another, and then listen to the wonderful words that they say.
• So often we feel rushed, that we have to cover a set amount of content over a limited amount of time; but we can choose to slow things down for ourselves and our children. Imagine having the time to really dig in, soaking up the richness of our Torah.
• When we carve out the time and set our expectations, what wonderful things we can learn from our children! They have their own Torah to teach us.

I believe that engaging children as co-creators in Torah study is the future of Jewish education. To realize this future for Jewish children everywhere, we must bring children directly into deep thinking about our tradition and our sacred texts. When we do so, children and educators can bring forth amazing insights from the difficult texts that are our people’s legacy, truly becoming b’nei Israel — God-wrestlers.

Nicole Ellefson is the director of the Little t Torah Project.