Dear Educators Who Would Rather Blur Lines Than Draw Them,

I write you this letter to address an approach that has quietly but steadily taken root in certain yeshivos in recent years (and seems to be the founding principle in others). It is a shift in how—and what-chinuch should be given over to the talmidim.

Under the guise of tolerance and openness, some institutions appear to have embraced a new stance:

None.

Your yeshiva has no ideology; each bochur is left to decide his personal opinion on any given value.

The result is not openness, but emptiness. Not nuance, but non-stance elevated into a value of its own.

Not long ago, a yeshiva’s name meant something. Where a bochur learned shaped his outlook, his positions, and signaled the values he held. The question, “Which yeshiva did he go to?” once told you a great deal. Today, it often tells you very little at all.

When the hanhala of a yeshiva does not guide its bochurim, with a kind but firm hand, along any discernible path, you end up with what can only be described as an ideologically “androgynous” bochur.

You are trying to be open, accepting, and flexible. You believe he will resent having his shitos “decided” for him, and that it may be better to “give him space to grow.”

You think that teaching him right and wrong—this we say, this we don’t; this we believe, and this we don’t—is infringing and overreaching.

You are trying to let him decide for himself, hoping he will find his own path. After all, each bochur is unique; no two are the same.

But what you really end up with is a bochur who cannot tell the difference between right and wrong. He firmly believes in nothing at all. Everything and everyone is accepted, everything is open to interpretation, and nothing is certain.

These bochurim no longer recognize the concept of a red line, or that certain things are non-negotiable. It becomes each man for himself.

And though it is unpopular in today’s society, the truth must be said:

Not everything is okay. Not everyone is accepted. We are not a “pick-and-choose” club.

This does not mean that everyone must think like me. It does not mean I must hate those who differ in opinion.

It means we follow a path—a wide path, with space for many people. You can run, you can walk, you can skip, and you can hop.

But it is a path nonetheless. And if I am on this path, I am on it all the way.

If we truly care about the next generation of talmidim, then we must have the courage to pass on the torch, to teach what we believe, and to draw lines even when doing so is uncomfortable or may seem unnecessarily extreme.

Because a path that is afraid to stand firmly will not be carried forward—it will quietly dissolve.

Sincerely,

TJ