Jewish life has always been shaped by the tension between belonging and boundary. In every generation, Jews have had to decide which elements of the surrounding culture can be absorbed, and which cannot, without hollowing out what is meant to endure. That question has become sharper, not softer, in the age of social media, where identity is increasingly mediated by visibility, performance, and scale.
Recent posts by a prominent Jewish parenting influencer illustrate why this moment demands clearer thinking not about individual families, but about how Jewish identity is being modeled and transmitted online.
With hundreds of thousands of followers, such figures are not merely sharing personal choices. They serve, whether they intend to or not, as cultural intermediaries. When an influencer tells her audience that many non-Jewish followers say she is one of the only Jewish people they “know,” personal narrative becomes public pedagogy. Influence, at that point, carries obligation.
Across her recent writing about antisemitism, Christmas and Jewish practice, a troubling pattern emerges.
In her essay on antisemitism, Jewish identity is treated with gravity. Holocaust memory, generational fear, Jewish visibility and contemporary hostility, especially online, frame Jewishness as inherited, historically grounded, and in need of protection. Jewish identity there is not aesthetic or elective; it is something parents must consciously transmit to children navigating a hostile environment.
Yet in her extended explanation for why her family also celebrates Christmas, Jewish identity appears in a markedly different register: flexible, private, and endlessly negotiable. Christmas, as the dominant ritual of the majority culture, is presented as emotionally inevitable, culturally neutral and, above all child-centered. The implicit logic is clear: Christmas is simply a part of life.
That contradiction is not theoretical. It is formative.
Children do not learn identity primarily from warnings about antisemitism. They learn it from what is centered, dramatized and normalized in daily life. Christmas arrives with spectacle, music, movies, school calendars and cultural consensus. Jewish holidays, by contrast, are explained, supplemented, modified and justified. Over time, children absorb not pluralism, but priority.
This dynamic becomes especially clear in a social-media post thanking followers for educating the influencer about Jewish practice—specifically, that placing a menorah in the window is a public declaration of Jewish faith and freedom. The custom is presented as a newly adopted change prompted by audience feedback. But pirsumei nisa, publicizing the miracle, is not an obscure add-on or modern innovation. It is foundational to Hanukkah, practiced for centuries. Learning it is not shameful. Learning it in public while serving as a primary Jewish reference point for hundreds of thousands of people is the problem.
What is being modeled is not Jewish learning within a tradition, guided by teachers, texts and inherited norms. It is Judaism as content: iterative, audience-validated and perpetually under construction. That approach aligns perfectly with influencer culture. It is also corrosive to Jewish continuity.
That approach aligns perfectly with influencer culture. It is also corrosive to Jewish continuity.
Context matters here. This influence did not arise accidentally, but was built through deliberate and willful exposure—of private life, children, home, holidays—within a monetized, algorithm-driven ecosystem. That choice brought visibility and reward. It also brought responsibility.
This is not a critique of one family’s private decisions, which would be theirs alone to make. But these decisions made by this influencer are not private. They are performed, monetized and modeled for hundreds of thousands of followers, many of whom, by the influencer’s own account, rely on her as their primary reference point for Jewish life.
When personal choices become public pedagogy, they are no longer shielded from communal scrutiny. The question is not whether a family celebrates Christmas. The question is what it means when that celebration is broadcast as Jewish normalcy to an audience with no other frame of reference.
Social media systematically rewards confidence over competence, relatability over formation, and visibility over depth. It turns identity into performance and tradition into something endlessly customizable. For a minority civilization like Judaism, which has survived through transmission rather than assimilation, this is a structural risk.
Calling Christmas “secular” does not make it neutral. It makes it dominant. Teaching children that dominance is inevitable, while teaching them that their own inheritance is flexible, does not produce confident Jews. It produces adults who experience Jewishness primarily as ancestry, memory, or vulnerability, rather than as a lived, formative culture.
Such public postures and behaviors represent a systemic danger and threat to Jewish continuity for social media dissolves boundaries quietly. It encourages constant explanation, perpetual accommodation, and the softening of difference in the name of inclusion while majority rituals remain ambient and unquestioned. Jewish identity, under these conditions, becomes assertive mainly in moments of threat, but negotiable in moments of joy.
That is not resilience. It is fragility recast as openness.
Jewish continuity rarely fails because people stop caring. It fails because care is gradually redirected away from inheritance and toward accommodation, now accelerated by platforms that reward exposure, affirmation and assimilation-friendly narratives.
Antisemitism is a real and growing threat. But so is the quieter danger posed by a culture that teaches Jews to defend identity only when it is attacked, not to live it confidently when it is welcomed.
Visibility alone will not sustain Jewish life. Continuity requires boundaries, depth and the courage to teach children that their inheritance is not optional even when the surrounding culture feels warm, generous and irresistible. The menorah in the window was never meant to be learned from the comments section.
Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.
