On May 20, 2012, tens of thousands of men from across the Torah world gathered at Citi Field in Queens, New York, for what was then described as a historic asifa addressing the dangers of the Internet. Thousands more participated through controlled satellite locations in communities far beyond New York. Rabbonim, askanim, and communal leaders spoke with urgency and intensity, warning of the spiritual, moral, and psychological risks of unfiltered online access. The atmosphere was charged, passionate, and resolute. Many participants returned home deeply inspired and committed to immediate change: smartphones were filtered or discarded, takanos were issued, and communal standards surrounding technology were significantly tightened.

Looking back, there is no doubt that the intentions behind the 2012 asifa were noble. The goal was to protect families, safeguard Torah learning, and uphold communal values in the face of a rapidly changing world. The dangers were real then, and they remain real today. However, we are now more than a decade removed from that gathering, and the world has changed dramatically. A new generation has emerged—one that did not experience the emotional intensity of that moment but must live with the long-term consequences of the decisions made then. This younger generation is sincere, thoughtful, and deeply invested in their growth. Most are not looking for rebellion or confrontation, but seeking clarity, coherence, and honesty. Their questions are not attacks; they are genuine attempts to understand. Their voices deserve to be heard and taken seriously.

The emotional force of the 2012 asifa was immense. Speeches stirred hearts and ignited resolve, prompting immediate action across many communities. Yet emotion alone, powerful as it may be, is temporary. It can launch a movement, but it cannot sustain it over years without structure, explanation, and thoughtful systems. Over time, the intensity of that day faded. What remained were rules and restrictions—but often without the accompanying education, context, or transparency needed to make those rules meaningful and sustainable.

The policies that followed the asifa frequently emphasized restriction above all else. Unfiltered Internet, smartphones and online access became closely associated with spiritual danger. In some communities, enrollment in schools was tied directly to compliance with these technological standards. While this created a sense of communal responsibility and uniformity, it also produced tension when real-life circumstances required flexibility. Filters were installed, yet exceptions were granted. Internet use was discouraged, yet permitted for business, parnassah, fundraising, and administration. These complexities were unavoidable—but they were rarely explained openly to students or, at times, even to parents. As a result, many children inherited rules whose logic was never articulated clearly.

The children of today are perceptive, observant, and intellectually engaged. They notice patterns, inconsistencies, and unspoken realities. They ask questions that are often brushed aside: “If the Internet is forbidden, how do schools fundraise online? How do administrators communicate through email and messaging apps?”

They see that countless Torah shiurim are available online, and that many rabbonim today are widely recognized precisely because they disseminate their teachings through the Internet, reaching millions across the globe. Many Jewish broadcasts and performers now rely heavily on digital platforms and social media for their livelihood. The era of selling CDs in stores has largely passed; online platforms are now the primary means of connecting with audiences and sustaining parnassah.

One student, Shloimie C., who learned privately with me, came from a yeshiva that forbade Internet access entirely. He told me that he could not inform the school that he was learning with me online as he would automatically be kicked out with no return. He observed though that when his yeshiva needed funds for a building campaign, the rebbi immediately approved Internet use. He was very confused and was seeking answers to this paradox.

Mrs. C. later shared that within weeks of us learning online, his rebbi noticed a clear transformation in Shloimie’s simchas hachayim and progress. The menahel told her, “Whoever you are using, keep using him—he’s excellent for your son.” Still, she was terrified to admit that the learning took place online. She kept it secret, knowing that disclosure could lead to Shloimie’s removal from the yeshiva.

For a child’s spiritual growth, the Internet was forbidden. For fundraising, it was suddenly acceptable. Students see this. They absorb it.

Shloime’s question came not from rebellion; it was a sincere attempt to reconcile Torah teachings with lived reality. Students today observe adults with filtered smartphones, running online businesses, booking travel, managing medical records, and communicating through digital tools. They notice parents with two phones—one “kosher,” one not. They see contradictions between rules and behavior, ideals and practice. Chinuch around Internet use cannot succeed through one-sided demands. It requires integrity, consistency, and transparency within our mosdos.

Today, many schools/Yeshivas insist on extensive disclosure from families, including which Internet providers and filtering systems are used at home, the types of phones present in the household and a rav’s signature to authorize their use.

These demands are only legitimate if schools hold themselves to the same standards. If institutions exempt themselves, students quickly recognize the hypocrisy, and the message of responsibility collapses.

More troubling still, such policies subtly communicate to children that their parents are not trusted or respected. This undermines parental authority at a subconscious level and weakens the essential partnership between home and school upon which all chinuch depends. This is not a small issue. It is potentially a serious and damaging problem.

Chinuch cannot thrive where trust is fractured. A system that educates through contradiction ultimately teaches children cynicism rather than responsibility. Without accountability, they learn Torah and rules are about control, not truth. Painful as it is, many experience this as they do modern politics—where governments insist they are always right, dissent is unwelcome, and questioning carries a cost.

When authority figures present themselves as infallible, shut down sincere questions, or threaten their children’s place—students absorb a dangerous lesson: “We know better; you may not challenge us.” Parents confided that their questions were met with, “If you don’t like what we do, you can go elsewhere. You cannot challenge us and this is our daas Torah”. This posture intimidates rather than educates.

This pattern is not new. History shows governments and movements convinced of their moral superiority precisely because they answer to nothing beyond themselves. When God was removed chaz v’shalom, accountability disappeared, humility eroded, and authority hardened.

I am not equating schools/Yeshivas with governments or movements but the analogy can be understood. Students like Shloime are perceptive. When adults invoke authority without transparency, silence questions, or punish those who highlight inconsistencies—justifying it with “We know best”—students recognize the same patterns they are taught to distrust in secular ideologies.

To be continue

Honoring the Second Yahrzeit of HaRav HaGaon Rav Mattisyahu zt”l — כ״א בטבת תשפ״ו

We recently marked the second yahrzeit of Rav Mattisyahu zt”l, a luminary whose life was devoted entirely to Klal Yisroel. Through Torah, mussar, and personal guidance, he shaped countless lives and left an enduring mark on our community.

Through my sefer, A Talmud’s Journey, I aim to preserve his wisdom and illuminate his methods—helping rebbeim guide talmidim not only in Torah mastery, but also in character, ethical discernment, and leadership. By studying and sharing his teachings, we ensure that Rav Mattisyahu zt”l’s light continues to shine for generations.

Learn more: A Talmud’s Journey — Legacy of Rav Mattisyahu zt”l

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Tel/WhatsApp: 848-367-1740
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