When I began my rabbinic career 40 years ago, the big concern was Jewish continuity. It is true that the term continuity was not used. The operative word at the time was survival, not physical survival, but the religious and cultural survival of the Jewish people. The conventional wisdom at the time was that the way to insure Jewish survival was by interesting children in Jewish education. Since most children resented going to religious school after a full day of regular school (and resented going on Sundays even more), day schools (which had been around for a while but were not yet that popular) came to be heralded as the panacea (cure-all). If only we could get all Jewish kids into day schools, the problem would be solved. The next generation would be knowledgeable and committed. And the parents would surely follow the children. Hook the children and you’ll hook the parents.

This new insight, wisdom, strategy (I’m not sure what to call it) became as sacred as a Torah Law transmitted at Sinai. No one questioned its logic or efficiency. It became a sacred cow in Jewish life.

One of its by products was that Judaism became child-oriented. Everything was geared to kids. Adult Judaism sort of got lost in the shuffle. It was more important for children to be catered to. And so rituals were promoted, not because they were mitzvot (obligations) or because they might bring meaning or enrichment to adults, but because they ought to be done for the sake of the children. “Don’t deny your child the beauty of Jewish rituals,” became the rallying cry.

This campaign was highly successful. Children received wonderful Jewish stimuli in day schools, even in religious schools, and certainly in the synagogue. Elders would kvell and point to all the kids in the synagogue and say with great pride: “This is our future.”

There was only one problem. The elders were mostly retirees and not the parents of the children. The parents had absorbed an unintended message: that the rituals and practices of Judaism are for children, not for adults. Children need to learn; adults are exempt. Children need to attend synagogue services; adults don’t have to.

So here is the real result. Children get dropped off for services on Shabbat morning, while parents proceed to shop, go to the hairdresser, the gym, the tennis court and the golf course. Children study Judaism in day or religious schools; parents rarely take advantage of adult education opportunities offered by the synagogues and communities. Our children are very bright and they see this. They can’t wait until they are adults and don’t “have to” anymore. The most striking evidence is the post Bar/Bat Mitzvah syndrome common in almost every synagogue. No sooner is the Bar/Bat Mitzvah circuit over (meaning they have attended the last Bar/Bat Mitzvah of their chronological group), they abandon the synagogue. It is sometimes even difficult to get them to return on their anniversary Shabbat.

And the parents? Many drop their synagogue membership as soon as their last child has become Bar or Bat Mitzvah. And whatever home rituals (Shabbat candles, Shabbat dinner, Havdalah) were observed with some regularity is usually dropped. The Seder, Rosh Hashanah dinner and Hanukkah candles probably remain. But little else.

So here we are 40 years later still worried about continuity and survival. And we have added a few “sacred cows.” Birthright Israel and March of the Living and High School in Israel. Surely these outstanding programs will insure our future.

Lest I be misunderstood, let me say categorically that day schools, Birthright, March of the Living and High School in Israel are all first rate and indispensable programs. But they are not enough and will not solve the problem.

The answer is not to hook the kids, but to hook the adults. We got the equation wrong. “Hook the adults and you’ll hook the kids” is the strategy we should have adopted from the beginning. How did generations of Jews prior to ours succeed in transmitting Judaism to their offspring? They observed it themselves. They studied it themselves. Not for their children, but for their own sake, for their own enrichment and for their own spiritual fulfillment. They set an example by how they lived. They didn’t drop their children off. They went to synagogue with them. They studied with them. Children learned how to chant Kiddush at the Shabbat table in their homes. Too often today the child is the only one in the family who knows how to chant Kiddush because he or she learned it from the Cantor in day school or religious school.

The Book of Proverbs counsels us to “Train up a child in the way he or she should go.” (Proverbs 22:6). The only way to do so successfully is to live ourselves in that way. The time has come to worry a little less about our children and start worrying about ourselves. When we live Judaism we have the best chance to insure its continuity for generations to come.

Why not start by observing Shabbat?