Josh Moritz and Carly Minsky made a deeply personal decision: to share their lives together without having children. Yet, having experienced estrangement within synagogue-based communities, they sought belonging in alternative Jewish circles. There, however, they discovered another painful absence: the Jewish content that had drawn them towards communal life in the first place.
I read their story a few weeks ago in the JC with considerable interest, empathy and sadness. No Jewish couple should ever feel excluded from communal life because they have chosen not to have children. If our communities are to survive, let alone flourish, we must recognise that Jewish belonging cannot be conditional upon parenthood.
Undoubtedly, Judaism places enormous value upon bringing children into the world. The Torah opens with the Divine command to “be fruitful and multiply” (Genesis 1:28), repeated after the Flood (Genesis 9:1). Isaiah reinforces this principle: God “did not create the world to be empty; He formed it to be inhabited” (45:18).
Yet, Jewish law itself acknowledges the considerable burden of pregnancy and childbirth. The formal obligation of procreation rests upon men. Our tradition recognises that motherhood cannot be imposed as a religious duty.
More importantly, bringing children into the world is only one dimension of ensuring Jewish continuity. What we contribute towards raising, educating, inspiring and supporting the next generation may prove infinitely more significant.
Consider the seventh Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson. He and his wife had no children of their own. Why this was so is nobody’s business. What matters is the extraordinary legacy they created.
The Rebbe taught that every Jewish man and woman bears responsibility for sharing Jewish knowledge, practice and experience with others. His vision transformed Jewish outreach across the globe. Today, almost wherever one travels, a Chabad House offers familiar prayers, Shabbat hospitality, festival celebrations and that unmistakable feeling of coming home.
Here was a childless couple whose spiritual influence reached millions. Their legacy demonstrates that Jewish parenthood need not be biological. Through teaching, kindness and personal example, one may nurture generations without ever becoming a parent.
Indeed, Isaiah offers a remarkably powerful affirmation of this principle. Addressing those unable to have children, the prophet promises that those who uphold God’s covenant will receive “a name better than sons and daughters” (56:4–5).
What an extraordinary declaration! Their contribution is not merely tolerated or reluctantly accommodated. It is positively celebrated.
How ironic, then, that Josh and Carly should have felt unwelcome in synagogue circles when Isaiah himself would surely have welcomed them into the Holy Temple, perhaps even sharing a hearty “L’chaim!”
The prophet concludes with God’s magnificent promise: “I shall bring them to My holy mountain and make them joyful in My house of prayer” (56:7).
There is nothing apologetic about this teaching. It is Judaism at its most authentic.
Sadly, conduct contrary to Torah values sometimes flourishes precisely where those values ought to be most faithfully practised. We may congratulate ourselves upon welcoming strangers while failing to embrace members of our own extended Jewish family.
Nor should we become carried away by the importance we attach to biological continuity. None of us can predict the ultimate consequences of our efforts. Having children is a blessing, certainly, but how they are raised, educated and inspired matters far more than simply counting their number.
Jewish destiny has never been a numbers game. The Torah reminds us: “It was not because you were more numerous than other peoples that the Lord set His heart upon you… for you were the fewest of all peoples” (Deuteronomy 7:7).
Our strength lies not in quantity but in commitment, compassion and the quality of our relationships.
Josh and Carly deserve more than sympathy. They deserve a genuine Jewish home, meaningful participation and opportunities to contribute.
Every Jew has a place in our community, whether married or single, parent, parented, or not.
A community that measures Jewish worth by the number of children in a household risks losing sight of the Jewish souls already standing at its door.
Rabbi Ariel Abel CF LLM is a practising rabbi, army chaplain and practising solicitor. He can be contacted at: rabbiabel@gmail.com
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