There’s something truly remarkable about visiting the new campus of the National Library of Israel. The hallowed chambers containing millions of manuscripts that span our thousands of years of history give you a true feeling of awe. Through the glimmering glass and warm stone facade are some of our most ancient texts juxtaposed with contemporary works of thought and experience.
But beyond the architecture lies the crux of what the National Library is: a repository where the hopes and dreams of the Jewish people live.
This isn’t just a library; it is a sanctuary of thought and spirit, where the annals of the trials and tribulations of exile, the realization of our national destiny, and hopes for our future dwell. Be it books, pamphlets, newspapers, or letters from some far-off Jewish town that has long since vanished from the face of the earth, the manuscripts stored in the National Library have found their forever home where they will be maintained and kept for posterity.
Tucked in one of the library’s collections is an edition of Haboker Leyeladim, a children’s newspaper published in Mandate-era Palestine. This issue dates back to 1943, during the height of the Holocaust. Among the lighthearted stories and games is a short, poignant article titled “The Classroom is Your Front Line.” It reported, gently, as was appropriate for its audience, on the emerging news from Europe.
Despite the natural fear of the unfolding horrors of the Holocaust, the article called for resolve. Learning, it insisted, was not a break from reality; it was a response to it. The classroom, even for children, was a place of resistance, a space dedicated to our thriving Jewish culture, experiences, values, and identity.
This century-old idea remains as powerful and poignant today as it was back in 1943. Once again, we find ourselves confronting the demons of our past. Antisemitism is not a distant threat; it is a force that affects our daily lives. It shapes headlines daily and is found in the classrooms, campuses, streets, and town halls of our communities. It comes in many forms: synagogue graffiti, online hate, conspiracy theories, and social ostracism.
Jewish response to antisemitism must be multifaceted
OUR RESPONSE to this deadliest of hatred must be just as multifaceted. We can’t fight antisemitism only through advocacy, security, or diplomacy. We must address it through education – through a deep and ongoing commitment to ensuring that Jewish children know who they are, where they come from, and what they carry.
This is the quiet revolution taking place every day in Jewish schools, camps, after-school programs, and homes. When we teach a child how to read a line of Torah, when we invite them to ask hard questions, and when we help them see their story as part of a larger one, we are doing more than passing on knowledge. We are passing on belonging, responsibility, and strength.
None of this is easy. It takes vision, commitment, and support. Yet the alternative – generations growing up disconnected from their roots, unsure of what they are defending or why – should be unthinkable.
In our contemporary times, we need to take inspiration from that 1943 article not as a relic from the past but as a contemporary call to action. Some 82 years later, we are still committed to fortifying Jewish classrooms across the globe, ensuring that every child has access to an education rooted in identity, resilience, and belonging.
We believe that the future of the Jewish people depends not only on what we remember but also on how we teach our children how to live their lives today. We are not simply supporting schools; we are ensuring that what our children learn today will help them grow into tomorrow’s leaders.
This is the true power of education, arming our nation with a sense of belonging and purpose just like Haboker Leyeladim did so many years ago. It wasn’t just reporting on the news of the day; it was reminding those young readers that even though dark times were upon them, Jewish history had taught us that there was hope – and that hope was found in the classroom.
Today, our frontlines may look different. But the principle remains. Jewish education is not an afterthought; it is our anchor. It is the greatest tool we have in shaping proud, informed, and resilient Jews and in confronting those who wish to silence us. The classroom is still our frontline. And the future is still ours to shape.
The writer is a communication and public affairs expert currently serving as communications director at the Yael Foundation, a global philanthropic organization supporting Jewish education and experiences around the world. Previously, he was director of international media at Yad Vashem.