Muslim and Jewish Families Save Each Other, 50 Years Apart
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In an age of drifting masculinity, Judaism charts a course of commitment, family, and real manhood.
Western society is grappling with a serious masculinity crisis. The New York Times, in a recent article titled “It’s Not Just a Feeling,” assures us that this is not just hype. The actual data on the ground shows how dramatically boys and young men are falling behind.
For example, only 41% of college degrees now go to men. Atlantic magazine has dubbed this “the new marriage of unequals,” as more-educated women marry less-educated men. Men in the workforce are in decline — in fact, one in ten men aged 20 to 24 is doing neither school nor work. Mental health crises among young men are climbing, as is addiction and suicide — at four times the rate of young women.
And all this is just the backdrop to the most tragic part — the way this crisis is affecting family life. A whopping two-thirds of American children are born to single mothers — even while research shows that the single most important marker for success in life is being raised by two parents. As one commentator put it, women are advancing in every area — while men are becoming really excellent at video games.
Taken together, it’s clear that referring to this as a “crisis of masculinity” is not hyperbole.
And yet observant Jewish men seem to be untouched by this crisis. They are interested in marriage and are eager to commit to it at a young age. They see having children as part of their life’s mission and invest time and energy into their children’s upbringing—pedagogic experts doing the speaker circuit easily fill up auditoriums with fathers.
These young men take their responsibility to support their families seriously—even while being idealistic enough to dedicate some of their best earning years to full time Torah study. Social commentators have much to learn from what traditional Jewish families are doing right with their sons.
Here are six ways the Jewish approach sidesteps the current masculinity crisis.
Western society likes freedom and abhors anything that might stifle that freedom — which, of course, includes marriage. While secular women are also delaying marriage today — the median age for both men and women has shot up from the early twenties to the early thirties in the last three decades — even the New York Times is willing to admit that the main problem here is the men. “Why aren’t more people getting married?,” a recent Times article asks in its title. And the answer it offers? “Ask the women what dating is like.” As it turns out, it is Western man who is allergic to commitment.
Judaism sees masculinity as deeply intertwined with obligation and commitment on the part of the man.
Judaism, on the other hand, sees masculinity as deeply intertwined with obligation and commitment on the part of the man. Under the chuppah, he gives her the ketubah, a marriage contract, and not vice versa. While Western society throws around terms like “situationships” and “commitment-phobic,” Judaism flips this cultural model, inviting the man to be a giver rather than a taker.
Getting married at a young age addresses another aspect of the masculinity crisis: loneliness. American men are stuck in a “friendship recession”; a Gallup poll reveals that Gen Z and millennial men under 35 are among the loneliest demographic. Traditional Jewish life offers a plethora of built-in social opportunities for men — from praying with a minyan to family celebrations. But the truth is, there is an existential loneliness that really has only one solution: “a helpmate opposite him”.
While fleeting relationships may dazzle, all the flings in the world can’t fill that empty hole the way marriage can. In a published study that is unlikely to topple anyone from their chair in surprise, Sam Peltzman, a University of Chicago economist, reports that marriage was “the most important differentiator” between happy and unhappy people — way more than a person’s income.
How lucky for the observant Jewish man who marries young, early in his emotional journey — before he is scarred, jaded, and disillusioned — to a woman who is committed to him and only to him. As King Solomon points out in the Woman of Valor—the traditional song sang on Friday night—when his “heart trusts in her,” then “he does not lack for spoils.” An emotionally satisfying relationship compensates for a lot of other “needs.” Marriage at a young age pulls a man out of his lonely bubble and draws him into a world of caring and friendship. In the beautiful words of the Seven Blessings said under the wedding canopy, he and his wife become rei’im ahuvim — beloved friends.
A recent article in the Free Press bemoans the cynicism that permeates today’s youth culture, as an “almost incapacity to be serious.” Youth vie to be even more sneering, sarcastic, scornful, sardonic, and skeptical than their peers — the better to defend themselves against the existential terror of being perceived as “uncool.”
In contrast, Judaism inculcates us with the idea that we were sent to this world for a purpose — and even the most seemingly mundane actions matter. Young observant Jewish men are delving into ancient texts and involved in heated discussions about kindness and caring, about integrity and honesty, about their responsibilities as human beings created in the Divine image. While as a community we may not always live up to our ideals, the ideals are still out there in public discourse, and these young boys are expected to grapple with them in relation to their own lives.
Men in the secular world are feeling increasingly anchorless, with no reason to get out of bed in the morning. Contrast that with the experience of young observant fathers whose reasons for getting out of bed might be bouncing on their bed right this moment.
There is so much talk in the world out there about whether someone “feels ready” to have children. But maybe being ready for children is an oxymoron. If there is one absolute about having children, it’s that it sets you on a one-way journey to you-have-no-idea-where. As it turns out, having children is often a catalyst for our most dramatic growth as human beings.
On a recent Friday afternoon, I found myself at a local park with some of my grandchildren (don’t ask) and I noticed that there were very few mothers at the park. Mostly there were fathers — tying shoes, handing out sandwiches, but also running through the sprinklers with their kids and organizing relay races. It occurred to me how much big families (and small budgets) encourage participation and cooperation on the part of fathers.
In contrast to the vague desire for “our children to be happy” — which researchers are discovering underlies too many parenting decisions — Judaism’s emphasis on teaching Torah values to one’s children, along with the inviolate laws of honoring one’s parents, creates a very different parenting dynamic.
A friend shared that she saw a child walking with his father, wearing a T-shirt proclaiming: “If you think this kid is bad, you should see his dad.” How tragic for that child to be parented by a man who takes pride in being “badder” than his four-year-old. Indeed, there are probably few things that motivate a person more to make something of himself than little eyes looking up at him.
Richard Reeves, in his work on the male crisis, notes that many boys today not only don’t live with their fathers — they also attend schools where nearly all their teachers are women. Combine that with a media diet of hyper-masculine influencers or apathetic gamers, and it’s no wonder that many boys don’t know what kind of man to be.
In contrast, boys growing up in observant homes are surrounded by male role models — in school, in yeshivah, in shul, and at family celebrations. Rabbeinu Yonah (1180-1263), in an insightful twist to the verse in Proverbs, “and a man according to his praise”-- tells us that a person’s true nature is revealed not by how people praise him, but by whom he praises. Imagine how different the world looks to these young men whose figurative dais is filled with leaders revered for their compassion, wisdom and refinement –instead of sports figures, movies stars and influencers who sit on the figurative dais of the Western world.
It’s fascinating how deeply we’re shaped by the culture around us. People steeped in Western culture might, for example, see Judaism’s emphasis on self-control for men as vaguely unhealthy. In fact, Western society doesn’t just normalize men giving in to their impulses—it glamorizes it. Self-restraint is dismissed as being “inhibited” — one of the worst epithets in a society that champions a “let it all hang out” mentality.
It is worthwhile to contemplate that in the not-so-distant past, many Western thinkers, artists, and philosophers held views that were much more compatible with Jewish law. They believed that lack of self-discipline was a sure path to narcissism and emotional stunting. Interestingly, some of them even saw clear parallels between physical self-control and intellectual and artistic creativity.
Is it possible that Western society’s devaluing of specifically male-focused self-discipline might have some connection to the “male crisis” they are so anxiously pontificating about?
As secular men flail around trying to give positive expression to their masculinity, many find succor in the gym — the modern altar where identity is shaped and (if he can stick to it) affirmed. The number of bench presses he can do becomes a marker of his masculinity.
Being a body builder or gym bro may give him a macho physique, it does not necessarily turn him into a man.
Strength is indeed closely linked to masculinity. It is not for nothing that the Hebrew word for man, gever, shares a root with the word for strength, gibbor. But being a power lifter, body builder, or gym bro may give him a macho physique, it does not necessarily turn him into a man. “Who is strong? [Who is a man?]” the Mishnah asks. “He who conquers his desires.”
When I asked a student of mine, whose heart had been shattered to smithereens, how on earth a supposedly normative young man could behave so abysmally, she looked at me strangely. “Miriam, what do you want from him? He’s a guy.”
How tragic that the high ideals of “self-expression” and “radical autonomy” find expression at the end of the day in treating adult men as if they were toddlers. We can’t expect much from you — secular society says — because boys will be boys.
Jewish values sidestep the masculinity crisis by inviting men to remain true to their Divine Image. How fascinating that Jewish culture has always used the word ‘mensch’—which literally means ‘man’ to describe anyone—male or female—who acts with integrity, honest and decency.
To read more of Miriam Kosman’s writing subscribe to her substack column or visit miriamkosman.com. A version of this article appeared in Mishpacha magazine.
