The Persian Jewish community is known for its deep respect for Torah and traditional values. In Iran, Jewish identity was reinforced by external factors—Muslim neighbors wouldn’t marry us even if we wanted them to, and Jewish life was preserved by default. Our grandparents followed religious leaders without question, embracing Torah as an unquestionable truth. This unwavering reverence extended into the next generation, with parents kissing their siddurim, placing their kippot on their heads with pride, and tearing up at the sight of the Torah being removed from the Ark.

But here’s the problem: Respect for Torah does not equal knowledge of Torah.

For all the outward devotion to Torah scrolls and religious symbols, many Persian Jewish parents are hostile to the idea of their children actually studying Torah. A young Persian Jew who expresses interest in learning in a Yeshiva or attending an Israel-based Jewish learning program is often met with resistance, skepticism, or outright discouragement.

Yet, these same parents have no problem spending tens of thousands of dollars sending their children to elite universities, where they are often exposed to atheistic and anti-Jewish philosophies. Parents take pride in their children earning degrees in law, medicine, or business, but suddenly become resistant when their child wants to engage in deep Jewish learning. Why? Because they fear their child will become “too religious.”

This contradiction is staggering. If Torah is truly sacred, why are we afraid of our children understanding it? Do we revere the Torah as a holy relic to be kissed, paraded around the synagogue, and bid on during aliyot, or do we see it as a living, breathing guide for life?

When Jewish education is neglected, children fail to grasp the meaning behind our traditions. A family may host Shabbat dinners and observe certain dietary restrictions, but without understanding why they do so, their children are more likely to drift away from Judaism entirely.

This is why assimilation and intermarriage have skyrocketed in Western Jewish communities. Many Persian Jewish parents are devastated when their children marry non-Jews, yet they never provided them with a strong enough foundation to understand why Jewish continuity matters. How can we expect them to hold onto something they were never truly taught?

Parents cannot be shocked when their children reject Judaism if they themselves placed cultural tradition above actual learning and personal connection. If we do not instill a deep, meaningful understanding of Jewish values, assimilation is inevitable.

Unlike in Iran, where Jewish life was largely preserved by its insular nature, today’s society offers endless opportunities for integration and assimilation. The old “just follow the leader” approach to Judaism doesn’t work in a generation that questions everything.

If Judaism is to survive in the Persian Jewish community, we need to stop fearing Jewish education and start embracing it. Our generation demands rational, meaningful answers to fundamental questions:

If we don’t seek these answers for ourselves and our children, the consequences will be severe. Just look at European Jewry—where assimilation has wiped out Jewish identity for many. Will Persian Jews be next?

If we truly value our heritage, we must stop treating Torah like a family heirloom—precious but unused—and start engaging with it as a source of wisdom and guidance. If we believe that Judaism is central to who we are, we must stop discouraging Jewish learning and start prioritizing it.

We need to decide: Are we Persian-Americans who happen to be Jewish, or are we Jewish Persian-Americans? The future of our community depends on the answer.