Raising Jewish Children in the Digital Age: One Mother's Journey of Faith and Hope

Can I tell you that I know the secret to raising children? Not really. No more than the average parent, and certainly not more than my husband, who has been blessed with remarkable calmness and a natural understanding of a child's heart.

Can I tell you that I'm an accomplished marriage counselor with an impressive list of credentials? Not at all. I'm simply an ordinary person with ordinary, very human failures in that area.

Can I tell you that I worry? Absolutely. Like so many parents today, I am deeply concerned about the influence of technology on young, innocent children.

So what can I offer? Only this: I'd like to share a little of the story of our rather unconventional family, the choices we've made, and the educational path we've tried to create for our children. Above all, I continue to pray that, with God's help, everything will continue to unfold as it should.

Building a Home Together

For years, friends and even casual acquaintances would ask my husband the same question: "How do you manage? You're not religious, and your wife is."

Early in our marriage, he gave what remains the most beautiful answer I have ever heard. "As long as we remember the very first commandment, 'I am the Lord your God,' we can work out everything else." That sentence has stayed with me ever since.

A Fear I Never Expected

Then our first daughter was born. Like every new parent, we approached the responsibility of raising a child with awe and reverence. But I carried an additional anxiety that was unique to our situation. I kept wondering: When will the day come when the technology in our home inevitably becomes part of her world? What will I say? How will I guide her? How long could I postpone what felt unavoidable?

Almost immediately, I began filling our home with children's books about Judaism, Torah, and the mitzvot. By the time she was only four months old, she already had a library card. Every visit to the library ended with me borrowing every Jewish children's book I could find. I purchased beautifully illustrated books for toddlers, and for me it became a deeply healing experience. As a child, I had rarely seen storybooks filled with Jewish characters who looked, dressed, and lived as Jews. Now my daughter would. What brought me the greatest joy was not only that these books taught mitzvot, but that they presented a living relationship with the Creator.

Yet I quickly realized that books alone would not be enough. Soon our home began filling with Jewish toys as well: a pillow that played the melody of Shema Yisrael, a Shabbat-themed puzzle, and a mobile that played Chassidic melodies. By then our son had also been born, and I felt an overwhelming responsibility to give both of my children the sweetest possible introduction to Judaism during their earliest years. God is my witness that I poured my heart and soul into that mission.

When Reality Required a Different Approach

Eventually, however, reality caught up with me. There was another parent in our home. I was not the only one making decisions. Sooner or later, our children would occasionally watch videos that were not specifically produced for religious families. That realization hurt, but I didn't have much time to dwell on the pain. God helped me remember something important: I had not been born into the ultra-Orthodox world. Our home was not an ultra-Orthodox home, and because I deeply respected my husband, who is the finest father I could ever have hoped my children would have, I knew I needed to find a constructive solution rather than wage endless battles.

Instead of trying to eliminate every screen, I asked myself a different question: How can I fill those screens with holiness?

I remembered the remarkable vision of Rabbi Zamir Cohen when he founded the Hidabroot channel. If many Jews would never enter a study hall, why not bring the study hall to their television screens? That idea became my guiding principle.

I began searching for programs, videos, and educational content rooted in Torah values. Looking back, what had begun as a compromise turned out to be an unexpected blessing. Yes, videos entered our home. But if there were going to be videos, I was grateful they were teaching Torah, Judaism, and Jewish values.

The Challenge of Choosing

Everything seemed to be working well until I realized just how exhausting it was. It is tiring to constantly evaluate, filter, and verify every piece of content.

When someone walks into a respected Orthodox bookstore, they don't read every book from beginning to end before deciding whether it's appropriate for their children. They trust the reputation of the publisher and the rabbinic endorsements inside the book. Online, however, things are very different. Jewish videos scattered across the internet often have no recognized authority behind them, no trusted framework, and no reliable standards. I found myself spending countless hours previewing videos before allowing my children to watch them. At some point, I realized that I had practically taken on a second job.

Looking Back, I See Divine Providence

And then, remarkably, that is exactly what happened.

Today I have the privilege of working in Hidabroot's children's division. Together with an incredible team, we invest our energy in creating programs, series, films, games, comics, nature videos, crafts, and countless other forms of engaging content that children genuinely enjoy. Content that is wholesome, authentically Jewish, and built upon timeless values.

Today I can clearly see the hand of Divine Providence. I believe God wanted me to experience personally and deeply the longing to guide my own children along the path of Torah so that I could help countless other Jewish children from that same place of love. I have no doubt that the endless, unfiltered world of YouTube can be spiritually damaging. Even today, I feel as though I am still recovering from much of the unhealthy media that surrounded my own childhood.

Sanctifying the Digital Age

Our generation has not been given the choice of avoiding technology. Computers, smartphones, and the internet are simply part of modern life. The real question is not whether these tools exist. The question is how we choose to sanctify them.

I once heard the Chabad filmmaker Henia Teichtal quote a teaching of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, based on the words of our Sages: "There was no need for gold to exist in the world. Why, then, was it created? For the Mishkan and the Holy Temple."

That thought strengthened me immensely. Everything God created has a purpose. Every invention, every technology, every resource can ultimately become a vehicle for revealing God's presence in the world. When we use these tools for holiness and goodness, we bring them to the very purpose for which they were created.

If our Sages taught this principle, then it is possible. That conviction gives me strength every day in the privilege of helping create engaging, meaningful, and authentically Jewish content for the children of Israel.

And because of that, I remain profoundly optimistic. 

After all, the future belongs to our children.