Chaya Yosovich is CEO of the Yael Foundation
There is a particular alertness that settles into a community when being Jewish becomes complicated. It shows itself not first in headlines or notable security increases, but in posture: in how children enter a room, in whether they speak freely or wait to see if it is safe, in whether Jewish identity feels like an inheritance or a vulnerability.
Across Europe and North America, as antisemitism rises and public spaces grow less predictable, these subtle signals are becoming more common, and they underscore why Jewish education and identity formation matter now in ways they did not a decade ago.
I have learned that you can tell a great deal about a young person’s Jewish identity by paying attention to small things.
When they enter a room, do they seem at ease or on guard? Do they look for permission before they speak, or is it clear to them that their presence is welcome?
These signals are rarely conscious. Young people generally don’t yet have the tools to articulate such feelings. Rather, these traits are shaped quietly, over time, through experiences that tell each child, implicitly, whether they belong.
Jewish identity, like all identity, is formed through relationships and connection. It develops in the home with family traditions and values, through repeated encounters with community, through moments of Jewish experience that build trust and a sense of responsibility for the future, and through interactions that leave an emotional memory long after the details fade. Much of this work happens outside formal instruction, in the informal spaces where Jewish life is lived rather than explained.
Today, those informal spaces carry new weight. In the US, the Anti-Defamation League recorded more than 9,300 antisemitic incidents in 2024, the highest number since it began tracking more than four decades ago. Over half of American Jews now report having personally experienced antisemitism in the past year. Across Europe, monitoring bodies report sharp rises in antisemitic harassment, vandalism, and violence, with some countries documenting year-over-year increases of more than fifty percent. These trends shape how Jewish identity is experienced, taught, and carried, even when they are not the explicit subject of conversation.
Over the years, I have watched Jewish communities on different continents wrestle with the same underlying question, even as their realities differ: how to help young Jews grow into an identity that feels relevant to their lives and steady enough to sustain them, especially when under attack. That question feels more urgent today, and it cannot be answered in isolation.
Different Realities, Familiar Tensions
In North America, informal Jewish education grew in response to a dispersed and diverse Jewish population. Camps, youth movements, and leadership frameworks became places where Jewish identity could be experienced socially and emotionally. They created continuity through relationships, shared rituals, and moments of collective meaning.
These environments shaped identity by offering something school alone often cannot: time. Time to build friendships. Time to experience Judaism in practice, not just theory. Time to step into leadership gradually, supported by peers.
Today, many North American educators describe a growing sense of strain.
Conversations around Israel, values, and belonging, once the core of Jewish education, now require a different type of sensitivity. Educators speak thoughtfully about the emotional weight of their role in a way that preserves trust, particularly with families who don’t align with the same philosophies or Jewish values imparted in school.
In Europe, the contours are different. Jewish communities are often smaller and more tightly woven. History is present in daily decision-making, and security considerations shape communal life in visible ways.
Rabbi Aaron Frank, Principal of Ramaz School in New York, participated in the Yael Foundation’s International School Leadership Exchange Program, which pairs experienced European and North American school leaders. Reflecting on his visit to the Renzo Levi Jewish Day School in Rome, he observed that it is, “a place of deep, deep connection where the vertical chord of history grounds this community in a most powerful way."
This observation reflects a broader dynamic I have witnessed. In many European contexts, belonging is cultivated deliberately. Trust is built carefully, often over years. Informal educational frameworks beyond school and synagogue are less common, and trained informal educators are fewer. This reflects a communal structure in which relationships carry extraordinary weight.
Why Models Need Time to Translate
There is a very human temptation to look for what works elsewhere and try to replicate it. After all, imitation is the highest form of flattery. Psychologically, this makes sense.
Yet, for identity formation, what works so effectively in experiential and informal educational settings in the US cannot simply be duplicated in Belgium, Bulgaria or Italy.
In Europe, this often means working closely with families, acknowledging historical experience, and building trust before expanding ambition. Informal education becomes meaningful when it emerges from within the community rather than being introduced from outside.
Many North American educators are now articulating a similar need. They speak about slowing the pace, listening more carefully, and rebuilding confidence as a foundation for participation. In this sense, European approaches to trust-building and relational depth offer important perspective.
At the same time, European educators benefit from exposure to North American approaches to peer leadership and informal engagement. These ideas are rarely adopted wholesale. They invite adaptation, offering language and possibility rather than prescription.
What Changes When Educators Learn Together
When educators from different Jewish communities meet with the intention to learn rather than instruct, there is a visible shift. Through international leadership exchanges and school partnerships supported by the Yael Foundation, I have watched these encounters unfold. They often begin with observation rather than assertion.
North American school leaders visiting European communities often remark on the closeness of relationships they encounter, the way students are known, the seriousness with which responsibility is shared, and the sense that Jewish life is something held collectively.
In the same reflection from Rome, Rabbi Frank described noticing a simple phrase printed on the backs of students’ sweatshirts: “Proud to belong." He wrote that he could not think of a better way to describe the community he encountered: one shaped by deep connection to place, peoplehood, and shared responsibility.
What emerges from these exchanges is translation rather than transfer. Each side leaves with clearer language for something they already sensed, and permission to approach it differently.
A Quiet Conclusion
Jewish identity is built gradually. It grows through trust, consistency, and spaces where young people feel that their presence matters. Informal education plays a vital role in this process precisely because it works in the margins between family and school, between instruction and experience. Its impact is rarely immediate or measurable. It shows up years later, in confidence, in connection, in a willingness to stay engaged.
As antisemitism rises across societies, the work of building strong, connected Jewish identity becomes more essential. When Jewish communities are willing to learn from one another without comparison or hierarchy, they strengthen that work. They acknowledge that while contexts differ, the responsibility is shared.
In that shared attention, Jewish identity finds room to grow.
Chaya Yosovich is CEO of the Yael Foundation, which believes that all Jewish children should have access to high-quality Jewish and general education, working in 45 countries impacting over 19,000.