There is a version of Jewish parenting I think a lot of us imagined before we actually had kids, and then there is real life.
In real life, Shabbat sometimes looks like takeout containers on the counter, and sometimes we use actual birthday candles, not Shabbat candles. Sometimes the challah is from Kroger or even a frozen roll because we forgot challah entirely. Sometimes, if I’m being really honest, Shabbat just doesn’t happen at all because everyone is busy. Most weeks, it’s chaos, but we are still trying.
Raising Jewish kids today feels different from how it probably did for a lot of our parents or grandparents. Many of us are figuring it out as we go, somewhere between tradition, modern life, and trying to keep everybody alive. We want our kids to feel connected to Judaism, proud of who they are and where they came from, and grounded in something meaningful. But also, I don’t want them to feel that everything has to be Jewish Jewish Jewish and that balance can feel impossible sometimes.
I want Andi and Charli to grow up loving being Jewish. I want Judaism to feel warm, familiar, joyful, and natural. Something they choose to lean into because it brings them comfort and connection, not because I guilted them into attending Hebrew school with promises of Starbucks afterward.
So our version of Jewish parenting looks a little more Jewish-ish.
We sign them up for Hebrew school and hope at least one life lesson sticks. We send them to Jewish summer camp because it’s a fun way to be Jewish, surrounded by other Jewish kids, doing Jewish things. We celebrate holidays and go to fun community events.
As Andi and Charli start preparing for their mitzvahs in the next few years, I find myself thinking about all of this even more. Yes, there will be dresses, speeches, and parties. But deep down, I want them to understand that a mitzvah is about so much more than one big party.
I want them to understand what it means to stand in front of their community and take ownership of being Jewish in their own way. I want them to know they are part of something bigger than themselves, something that survived generations before them and will continue long after us.
Am I doing enough? Are they learning what I hope they are learning? Do they actually feel connected to Judaism, or is this just another activity squeezed into an already packed schedule? Will these traditions matter to them later?
Unlike previous generations, our kids are growing up in a world full of competing influences. Judaism is no longer automatically the center of their social life or identity, the way it often was for their grandparents and great-grandparents. Now it has to compete with the internet, travel sports, sleepovers, YouTube, and whatever trend is cool this week.
Living in Cincinnati, the public schools and activities are not filled with Jewish kids like my friends in NY, Philly, and LA, and I think that’s a good thing, too. I want Andi and Charli to have friends from different backgrounds, religions, and experiences. I want them exposed to all kinds of people and perspectives. But at the same time, I also want them to have Jewish friends. I want them to know what it feels like to walk into a room where people just get certain parts of who they are without explanation. I want them to have a wide, diverse world and a strong Jewish community they can always come back to. Judaism doesn’t have to look perfect to matter. Because the truth is, there’s no one right way to raise Jewish kids.
For some families, Judaism is deeply religious and traditional. For others, it’s cultural, social, historical, or somewhere in between. Some people make homemade challah every Friday. Others buy it at the last second at Trader Joe’s. Some know every prayer by heart. Some are learning alongside their kids. And maybe that’s the whole point.
Maybe what kids remember most is not whether everything was done perfectly, but that it was done consistently enough to feel important. That Judaism existed in the house. That it showed up in conversations, traditions, celebrations, values, and memories. That it felt like something worth holding onto.
I don’t need Andi and Charli to grow up exactly like me. I don’t need them to practice Judaism in one specific way; I just want them to feel connected to it. To know where they come from, to feel pride in being Jewish, and comfort in the community that comes with it. And hopefully one day, they’ll take the parts that mattered to them and make them their own.
Jewish-ish may not be the version of parenting we originally pictured. But it’s real life, and real life is usually where the meaningful stuff happens anyway.
