They Wanted a Story on Dropouts: I Showed Them Teens Finding Faith

“Hello?”

“Yes?”

“Hi, this is Alison, a foreign desk reporter…” She introduced herself as working for a major American media outlet, one of the most influential in the world. “Is English okay? My Hebrew isn’t great, but I can try. I got your number from Gaya. Is now a good time?”

Gaya had indeed told me to expect the call.

An Unlikely Connection

I had only recently met Gaya. She is not the kind of person I usually meet. But this war, and the social shifts it has brought, have a way of connecting very different people.

Gaya is light years away from me in worldview. Still, I am curious by nature. I like to understand how other people think. We ended up talking for hours, once at my home and twice at hers. Five hours at a time, with tea and water, water and tea. Our children even filmed us without us noticing, like paparazzi. When they showed us afterward, we laughed until we could not breathe.

I tried to present myself well in front of her. A good Haredi woman. Someone who does not compromise. Just as I was curious about her world, she was fascinated by uncompromising Haredi life. Authenticity drew her in. She especially enjoyed speaking with the yeshiva boys.

She is well connected and influential in the Israeli media world. She did not step into our home before my husband carefully checked her, as one should. Because in her world there are people who are not good. Truly not good. And there are also people who are genuinely searching, even at sixty.

One day she asked me, “Can I give your number to Alison? She works for a major American outlet. They are doing a piece about Haredi youth. Can you help?”

I said yes.

The Power of a Yes

At home, we often talk about two relatives of the same status. Same age, same position in the family, completely different personalities.

One always says no first. Even if he ends up helping, his first response blocks everything.

The other always says yes. Even if nothing comes of it later, his yes feels open, warm, full of possibility.

Gaya asked. I answered like the second relative.

Yes.

And suddenly, I found myself part of something I had never even thought to pray for.

The Question Behind the Call

The conversation with Alison was long.

She explained the angle clearly. They were preparing a piece about Haredi youth who are leaving religious life. She wanted to understand why it is happening, how widespread it is, and what it says about the community.

I am not naive. I see what is happening around me. I shop in the same stores. I hear the conversations. I am not pretending that challenges do not exist.

But I also see the bigger picture.

Compared to many other communities, our situation is strong. There is awareness. There are efforts. There is responsibility.

And yet, the story being told is always the same.

Decline.

A Moment of Courage

I do not know where the courage came from. Only Hashem knows.

But I answered her honestly.

“You are doing a piece on Haredi youth leaving? That story is overdone. Why not write about secular youth becoming more observant?”

There was silence.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Is that really happening?”

I smiled.

“Do you know what is happening here in Israel?” I asked her. “Can I bring you real people? Boys and girls?”

“Can you prove it?” she asked.

“Of course.”

Rewriting the Narrative

That was it. The direction changed.

I began calling families, one after another. Teens who, in today’s generation, are choosing a path of faith in their own way. Not the classic return of previous decades, but something new and deeply personal.

“I want teens,” she emphasized. “And I want parents who are struggling with it.”

“You got it,” I told her.

I reached out to the well known teen from Ohel Shem High School, connected to the tefillin uproar. I spoke to groups of girls in Tel Aviv who do not miss Shabbat prayers.

Story after story.

What began as a piece about a community in decline started turning into something entirely different.

A Story They Did Not Expect

By the end, the article that was supposed to highlight loss began to reflect growth.

A people not disappearing, but searching. Not disconnecting, but reconnecting in new ways.

When Alison called again to thank me, she asked if we could meet when she visits Israel.

I told her, “Alison, do you know who you are? You remind me of Onkelos the convert.”

A Quiet Realization

After the call ended, I sat for a moment and thought about what had just happened.

Sometimes, the stories told about us are shaped from the outside, without seeing the full picture. But sometimes, all it takes is one conversation, one honest perspective, to gently shift the direction.

Yes, there are challenges. But there is also movement. There is searching. There is return.

And perhaps the real story is not about who is leaving, but about how many are finding their way back, quietly, in their own time, in their own way.