Jerusalem and Athens Meet in Manhattan
Is truth truly beauty, and beauty really truth? And is that all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know?
This was under discussion on a January morning on Manhattan's Upper East Side. The moderator was Chana Ruderman, a former university seminar instructor, and the spirited participants, wearing crisp uniforms, were 11- and 12-year-olds, approaching John Keats's immortal lines with the enthusiasm their peers usually reserve for Spider-Man or Juan Soto.
Creative ideas were welcomed but textual proof was demanded to back up each statement. The students dived back into the 'Ode on a Grecian Urn,' shouting with glee when they discovered lines that supported their theses. As the pace grew quicker, they exhibited something you rarely experience in middle school: joy.
This was simply another morning at Emet, the country's first Jewish classical-education preparatory school, more than halfway through its inaugural year. Walk its halls and you will see portraits of Churchill, Plato and Maimonides, urging students to plant one foot firmly in Western civilization and the other in Jewish tradition. Although it has been operating for only a few months, the school has become a sensation, holding public events with luminaries like writer Douglas Murray. It is attracting applications from hundreds of parents, including some who never thought they would send their child to a Jewish school, let alone one that teaches Latin and requires students to attend recitals at Carnegie Hall to develop an appreciation for Paganini.
Which is all the more remarkable considering the school wasn't supposed to be running yet. Working under the aegis of Tikvah, a Jewish cultural and education organization, Eric Cohen, who leads the group, and Abe Unger, a former college professor and now Emet's head of school, wanted to take their time. The classical-education model, which emphasizes canonical texts and traditions of Western civilization and which is enjoying a resurgence among Christians, is heavy on Greek and Roman culture. How, then, to infuse it with Judaism, a tradition whose values sometimes contradict those of the Hellenized world?
They were grappling with the question when Oct. 7, 2023, happened. Many parents, shocked to see Hamas sympathizers plant themselves on college campuses and in city streets, urged the school to open as soon as possible. More than 500 families expressed interest and, after rigorous aptitude tests, 40 students in the fifth, sixth and ninth grades were chosen. That number is already slated to double next year.
They didn't have to wait long to figure out what kind of environment their school would foster. Each day starts with two student marshals holding two flags, America's and Israel's, while reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. As they file out of assembly, they must pause, look Mr. Unger in the eye and shake his hand. That, he says, is where the educational transformation begins.
'Suddenly, they feel like citizens,' he tells me in his office. 'Reciting the Pledge and holding the flag and shaking the principal's hand are all civic acts. They are acts of coming together in a kind of small-r republican community.'
If there's one thing that can devastate even the most dedicated community it's the abundance of screens, which is why Emet doesn't permit them. Rather than iPads or Chromebooks, the students carry textbooks, as well as notebooks, index cards, pencils and pens. When they write, it's in cursive, another classical skill prized at Emet.
All this pleases Brigette Roberts, who pulled her 10-year-old daughter from a competitive private school last year to give Emet a shot. The school's emphasis on discipline, she says, has helped her daughter thrive. 'I definitely see a change in her. Suddenly, she's asking us to buy a lot of different books she'd like to read—and she's constantly asking us questions about everything from architecture to physics.' Ms. Roberts says her daughter is 'thinking more, questioning more. It's clear that she loves to learn.'
Mr. Unger adds that these tensions—between joy and discipline, Jewish tradition and Western civilization—make Emet's students engage with their work. 'We teach them that it's OK to live with contradicting views on any given topic,' he says. 'That is what's fun. They study these traditions, and then they look at them on their own terms, asking, 'What can I say about that? How can I forward the conversation and the human prospect?' ' For Jews living with a rising tide of antisemitism, such agility and resourcefulness are key.
Yet holding conflicting values in conversation doesn't mean accepting that all is true and everything is permitted. 'The quest for truth lies at the very heart of Western civilization, and we abandon it at our great peril,' Mr. Cohen tells me. 'The moral teachings and miraculous survival of the Jews remind the world that the deepest truths endure, that hope is never lost and that the renewal of civilization is always possible.' Indeed, in one Jewish prep school in Manhattan, renewal happens every day.
Mr. Leibovitz is editor at large of Tablet magazine and author, most recently, of 'How the Talmud Can Change Your Life: Surprisingly Modern Advice From a Very Old Book.'
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