As Jewish parents, many of us take great pride in sending our children to America’s top universities. The prestige, the promise of success and the sense of belonging to an elite group are enticing.
But a question looms larger than ever: Are we setting our children up for an impossible challenge by sending them to these elite institutions?
As someone who has spent time in these environments and been invited to offer guidance to Jewish students heading to them, I’ve come to believe that the answer might be more complicated—and more troubling—than we care to admit.
Recently, I addressed a group of Jewish students preparing for their college journey. I began with some easy questions: “Who here likes chocolate?” Every hand went up. “Who hopes to get married and have children one day?” Again, unanimous agreement. But when I asked, “Who knows a Jew who has married a non-Jew?” the hands remained raised.
This was no surprise, and it perfectly illustrates the broader dilemma. If these same questions were posed to a group of Jewish students in Israel, the answers would be similar, except for one crucial difference: Intermarriage is almost nonexistent in Israel.
Israel is the only place in the world where secular Jews can effortlessly maintain their Jewish identity, free from the pressures of assimilation. When we send our children to elite universities, expecting them to hold on to a strong Jewish identity, we are setting a bar that is often impossibly high. The social environment at most of these institutions is not conducive to meeting and marrying other Jews; in fact, the statistical likelihood of this happening is remarkably low. In today’s cultural climate, urging young people to prioritize their traditions over their personal feelings is often dismissed as out-of-touch or even bigoted.
It’s not just about intermarriage. If your child is pursuing studies in the social sciences or humanities, they are likely to encounter worldviews that are often hostile towards Israel and, by extension, Jewish values. When young students, away from home and facing the world for the first time, encounter professors and peers who are critical of Israel, they often lack the tools to defend their heritage, let alone themselves. It is far easier for them to go with the flow than to stand against the current.
The drive among American Jews to send their children to Ivy League schools is often about more than just receiving a quality education. It’s about seeking acceptance and validation within American society, but recent events have shown that this pursuit may be futile.
One only needs to look at the recent congressional hearings featuring the presidents of prestigious institutions like MIT and Harvard. Their statements made it abundantly clear: These schools do not particularly want us. It’s not a bug; it’s a feature. Statistics and actions bear this out repeatedly.
Perhaps it’s time to take a page from Groucho Marx, who quipped that he wouldn’t want to be part of any club that would accept him as a member. If these universities are not eager to embrace Jewish students—and if the price of admission includes the erosion of our identity—it’s time to rethink our strategy.
If we care about the next generation, and if we want to offer them a genuine chance to be proud Jews, then our choices are straightforward: Either send them to Israel, where their identity is naturally reinforced, or establish our own elite institutions that reflect our values and heritage. Imagine a Princeton or Harvard built on Jewish ideals; one in which our children can thrive without compromising who they are. In time, perhaps it will be these institutions that others seek to join.
In my own experience teaching political philosophy at Princeton, I’ve seen firsthand the challenges Jewish students face in these prestigious environments. I’ve watched students struggle to reconcile their Jewish identity with the ideologies prevalent on campus. It is a battle that many are not prepared for and too often results in a loss of connection to their heritage.
It’s time to question our unexamined assumptions: Are we truly providing our children with the best opportunities by sending them to institutions that do not align with their values or support their identities? Or are we, in our pursuit of prestige, pushing them into environments that compromise their sense of self?
As we navigate these complex questions, it’s essential to remember what’s truly at stake: the future of Jewish identity in America. If we continue down the current path without rethinking our approach, we risk losing more than just cultural connection. We risk losing a generation.
The time has come to chart a new course; one that prioritizes the enduring strength of Jewish identity over the fleeting allure of elite acceptance.
