By Rabbi Shlomo Ezagui

A troubling trend has become increasingly visible in our communities, particularly online: individuals who have chosen to leave a Torah-observant way of life are publicly expressing dissatisfaction, doubts, and rejection of Jewish belief and practice. Some posts are personal accounts of struggle. Others go much further—mocking the Torah, deriding religious Jews, glorifying transgression, and portraying the abandonment of mitzvos as a form of liberation.

We must respond to this trend with clarity, wisdom, and compassion. This is not a call to reject, humiliate, or write off any Jewish soul. Every Jew remains precious. Each person may carry pain, confusion, trauma, loneliness, intellectual questions, or a sincere search for meaning. Our obligation to care for people does not end when they disagree with us or make choices we believe are wrong.

At the same time, compassion does not mean confusion. Loving a fellow Jew does not require us to expose our children, students, or vulnerable members of the community to content that ridicules the values on which Jewish life is built, nor does it require us to give public platforms or validation to those who promote such messages. A healthy community must know how to extend a hand to the person while setting appropriate limits on harmful public influences.

In earlier generations, a person’s private struggles generally stayed private. Today, a moment of doubt, anger, rebellion, or personal change can be broadcast instantly to thousands of viewers. Platforms such as Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and YouTube reward provocative content. The more shocking, emotional, cynical, or confrontational a video is, the more likely it is to be shared.

This creates an unhealthy incentive. A person who struggles may find that public criticism of Torah observance brings attention, affirmation, followers, and a sense of belonging. Instead of working through difficult questions with trusted teachers, family members, counselors, or mentors, the individual may be drawn into an online community that reinforces resentment and celebrates rejection.

We should not underestimate this environment’s influence. Young people, especially those who are uncertain or emotionally vulnerable, are deeply affected by what seems popular. When they see many others publicly declaring, “I left, and now I am free,” they may come to view their private questions as proof that they, too, must leave. They may mistakenly accept public figures’ claims that discipline is oppression, that commitment is weakness, and that faith is intellectually unsustainable.

This is how social influence works. People are shaped by the attitudes, language, and examples around them. A single public voice can attract others; a group can make an idea seem normal; and eventually, what was once seen as destructive can be presented as admirable. We have seen this dynamic across many areas of society, and we continue to see it. Hatred spreads when it is celebrated. Recklessness spreads when it is glamorized. Cynicism spreads when it is treated as sophistication.

The same is true of Torah values. If contempt for mitzvos, Shabbos, kashrus, tznius, taharas hamishpacha, and faith in Hashem is repeatedly portrayed as courageous, enlightened, or a path to fulfillment and happiness, it will influence those who have not yet developed strong roots.

There is an important parallel in the way Jews rightly respond to antisemitism. When a person is attacked merely for being Jewish, the expected reaction is to stand up against the hatred. Silence can be interpreted as acceptance. When people are allowed to humiliate Jews, deny Jewish dignity, or spread hatred without consequence, such behavior can grow and embolden others.

It is essential to distinguish between private struggle and public advocacy. When someone wrestles privately with faith, observance, identity, or personal behavior, our first response should be concern, self-reflection, and compassion. We should ask what may be contributing to the growing number of people who feel alienated from Torah life, including a lack of education, emotional support, a sense of belonging, or a safe place to raise difficult questions. Such individuals should not be treated as enemies. They deserve to be heard, supported, and helped wherever possible.

The concern I raise in this article, however, is different. It arises when private struggles become public campaigns—especially when social media is used to attack, ridicule, or falsely portray the beliefs, practices, families, and institutions of Torah-observant Jewish life. There is a significant difference between saying, “I am struggling,” and declaring that Torah is foolish, that religious Jews are members of a cult, or that abandoning mitzvos is the only path to freedom. The former calls for empathy and support; the latter demands a clear, responsible communal response. We must protect our communities from messages intended to weaken faith, normalize transgression, and influence others—particularly the young and vulnerable—to reject the sacred foundations of Jewish life.

Our response must remain principled. We should firmly oppose hatred, but never become hateful. We should defend Jewish identity, but never abandon Jewish ethics. At the same time, we must not ignore—or pretend there is no danger in—aggressive anti-Torah messaging.

The presence of public dissent should also prompt us to look inward. Why are so many people unprepared to engage with questions of faith? Why do some feel they cannot voice their doubts at home, in school, or in their communities? Why do they turn to anonymous strangers online rather than to trusted rabbanim, educators, parents, and mentors?

We cannot assume that everyone who leaves observance does so because they lack knowledge or discipline. People are complex. Some are wounded. Some have experienced hypocrisy, unhealthy pressure, loneliness, abuse, rejection, or emotional distress. Others have intellectual questions that were never taken seriously. Still others may simply be drawn to the immediate pleasures and freedoms a less disciplined lifestyle seems to offer.

Our children need more than information. They need depth. They need to understand not only what Judaism requires but also why it matters. They need to encounter the beauty, wisdom, intellectual richness, emotional strength, and spiritual power of the Torah. They need educators who are not threatened by honest questions and parents who can say, “I may not have every answer right away, but your question matters, and we will explore it together.”

A Jewish education that relies solely on habit, fear, social pressure, or external conformity may not withstand the pressures of modern life. A person needs conviction. He or she needs to know that a life of Torah is not merely a list of restrictions but a path toward purpose, self-mastery, family, community, holiness, and a relationship with Hashem.

The claim that freedom means the absence of all limits is one of the great illusions of our time. A person without discipline is not free. Often, he is controlled by impulse, appetite, fashion, approval, and desire. A society without laws does not become liberated; it becomes dangerous. A person who ignores every boundary may feel unrestricted for a moment, but eventually discovers that a life without direction can be empty.

True freedom is not the ability to do anything one wants. True freedom is the ability to become the person one is meant to be.

Our communities need a thoughtful and practical response to this challenge.

We must create environments where questions can be asked safely. Young people should never feel that uncertainty automatically makes them disloyal, defective, or beyond hope. Honest questions are not the enemy of faith. Avoided questions are far more dangerous. We should not allow social media personalities to become our children’s primary educators.

Parents and educators must actively teach digital literacy. Not every confident speaker is knowledgeable. Not every emotional personal story is a universal truth. Not every video that receives thousands of likes contains wisdom. Children and adults alike must learn to ask: Who is speaking? What is their motivation? What information is missing? Is this person seeking truth, or seeking attention?

We should support individuals who are struggling. This includes access to compassionate rabbanim, therapists, mentors, educators, and community members who know how to listen without panic or judgment. People should not be forced to choose between silence and rebellion.

For this reason, communities must set reasonable boundaries. We must be mindful not to lend support to voices that openly demean Torah observance or seek to draw others away from it. This is not a denial of anyone’s humanity. It is a recognition that influence matters, especially when children and vulnerable people are involved.

The Jewish response must include a deeper commitment to Torah, stronger faith, healthier homes, better education, more honest conversations, and greater compassion.

Those who have taken a different path are not enemies to despise. They are fellow Jews, often carrying stories we do not fully know. We should continue to care for them, pray for them, and leave open every possible path to return and healing.

But we must also be honest: public campaigns that mock the Torah and glorify the rejection of mitzvos can harm individuals and communities. We cannot be passive in the face of that influence. We should not lend such messages legitimacy by liking, sharing, praising, or promoting them. When the Torah and Torah-observant life are publicly ridiculed or misrepresented, those claims should be answered publicly—with truth, dignity, intellectual seriousness, and moral clarity, not with personal hatred or humiliation.

The answer is not to retreat, ignore the problem, or pretend it does not pose a serious challenge to our communities. The answer is to build communities that are so strong, thoughtful, warm, intellectually grounded, and spiritually alive that the empty promise of “freedom from Torah” will no longer seem compelling. Along that path, the pushback and viral attacks on all that we hold sacred must be addressed.