OTD – Dealing with children who go “Off” The Derech Versus “On” Their Derech
The phenomenon of children moving away from an Orthodox way of life—commonly referred to as going off the derech—is vast, complex, and emotionally charged. It is not a subject that can be responsibly reduced to slogans, quick diagnoses, or simplistic blame. In fact, the depth of this issue is such that it has generated dozens of books, memoirs, studies, and communal initiatives, each attempting to shed light on different aspects of the inner world of those who leave and the families who are left struggling to understand why. By reading across this literature, one begins to grasp the intricate ecology of belief, practice, identity, emotional experience, and community dynamics that shape a child’s journey over time.
In addition to the research and literature referenced in this article, the perspective presented here is informed by extensive firsthand experience. Over the years, I have worked closely with families navigating the pain and confusion of children going off the derech, both through communal involvement and direct engagement with parents seeking guidance. In particular, I served for seven years as a teacher in a yeshivah that worked with boys who were already struggling religiously and emotionally. Many of these students were intelligent, sensitive, and capable young people, often described by their rebbeim and parents as “good kids” who had simply lost their footing. Being present in their daily lives—inside the classroom, during moments of resistance, honesty, and vulnerability—provided a rare window into how complex and non‑linear this process truly is. That experience deeply shapes the approach of this article: one that favors understanding over judgment, responsibility over blame, and connection over fear.
In the sections that follow, we will address several central questions. First, we will examine the most common themes and commonalities that emerge when children and adults describe why they moved away from Orthodox life, drawing carefully from survey data rather than anecdote. Second, we will confront a painful and often unspoken question: does a child going off the derech necessarily mean that the parents did something wrong? Closely related to this is the burden of guilt that so many parents carry—often silently—and we will address when that guilt is misplaced, when it may contain a kernel of truth, and how to respond appropriately in either case.
This article does not pretend to be a complete treatment of the subject. Entire volumes have been written attempting to address children who leave observance, and rightly so. Instead, the goal here is more modest but no less important: to clarify several foundational points that parents must understand if they are to respond with wisdom rather than panic, responsibility rather than guilt, and connection rather than alienation.
We have titled this article OTD, a term commonly understood to mean Off the Derech. While this language is widely used, many have correctly pointed out that it can feel limiting and judgmental. An alternative and more compassionate way of understanding the term is not that these children are “off” a path, but rather that they are on their own derech. This shift in language does not minimize the pain involved, but it opens the door to empathy, humility, and the recognition that each child’s journey is personal, complex, and deserving of respect.
A. Why?
Over the past several decades, children leaving Orthodox observance has become a subject of intense interest, pain, and concern within the Jewish community. Parents, educators, rabbanim, and researchers alike have struggled to understand what happens inside the minds and hearts of children who slowly, and sometimes suddenly, choose a different path. Because speculation and anecdote were no longer enough, extensive research was undertaken—most notably large‑scale surveys that sought to listen directly to those who left—to uncover patterns, common experiences, and underlying themes. What emerges from this growing body of research is both deeply intriguing and deeply humbling: a picture far more complex than blame, slogans, or simple explanations would suggest.
One of the most important contributions to this conversation is the comprehensive survey conducted by Nishma Research, presented in 2016, which sought not to prescribe solutions or assign fault, but to listen carefully to those who had left Orthodox communities across Chasidic, Yeshivish, Chabad, and Modern Orthodox backgrounds. The survey which is based on the responses of 800 OTD individuals, makes clear that there is no single pathway, no single trigger, and no single type of home from which children go off the derech. Rather, it reveals a wide range of experiences, often unfolding gradually, shaped by intellectual questions, emotional pain, unmet spiritual needs, and communal dynamics.
The Nishma Research findings are particularly instructive here. A majority of respondents reported feeling that they were “pushed away” by internal community experiences rather than “pulled” by the outside world. These experiences included feelings of judgmentalism, lack of openness, unresolved questions, hypocrisy, and emotional or physical harm. Importantly, these are systemic and relational factors; they are not reducible to parental intentions or effort. Many respondents came from religious homes, dedicated families, and sincere parents. This alone should give pause to any simplistic narrative of blame.
A list of reasons mentioned in the survey:
- Philosophical and Intellectual Questions About Judaism
Equally prominent—and in fact the most commonly cited reason overall—were philosophical, theological, and intellectual questions about Judaism itself. Respondents reported struggling with questions of belief, conflicting teachings, historical and scientific challenges, and unresolved doubts about foundational assumptions. Crucially, many did not describe a dramatic break, but a slow process in which unanswered questions accumulated over years. When these questions were met with dismissal or fear rather than honest engagement, faith gradually eroded rather than collapsed suddenly.
- Feeling Overly Restricted by Religious Life
One of the central themes that emerged was a sense that religious life felt too restrictive, confining, or stifling. Many respondents described feeling overwhelmed by constant rules, expectations, and chumros, with little room for personal growth, individuality, or emotional expression. Rather than experiencing observance as meaningful or uplifting, it came to feel burdensome and restrictive. Over time, this sense of suffocation contributed to emotional disengagement and a desire to seek autonomy beyond the religious framework.
- Judgmentalism and Lack of Acceptance
One of the most frequently cited experiences was judgmentalism and lack of acceptance. Many respondents described growing up in environments where deviation, questions, or emotional struggle were met with criticism, gossip, or social exclusion. Feeling constantly evaluated—rather than understood—created a sense that belonging was conditional and fragile. Over time, this eroded trust and attachment, not only to the community but to the religious framework that appeared to sanction such behavior.
- When There Is No Room for Questions
Closely related was a lack of openness and space for questions. A significant number of respondents reported that sincere intellectual, theological, or moral questions were discouraged or dismissed. When doubts were met with slogans, silence, or fear rather than engagement, questioning itself became a source of alienation. Importantly, the survey indicates that this process was often gradual; many individuals described years of internal struggle before any outward change in behavior occurred.
- Hypocrisy and Double Standards
Another recurring theme was the experience of hypocrisy and double standards within religious life. Respondents spoke of strict enforcement of minor rules alongside perceived tolerance of serious ethical failures, particularly when power, status, or money were involved. For some, this created a deep moral dissonance: a sense that the values taught did not align with the behavior modeled. This tension weakened confidence in the system as a whole, even when belief in God remained intact.
- Experiences of Harm and Communal Failure
The survey also documents more severe experiences, including emotional, physical, or sexual harm, and the mishandling of such cases by communal authorities. While not universal, these accounts are present across denominational lines and carry significant weight. Respondents who reported such harm often described profound disillusionment—not only because of what happened, but because of how it was dismissed, minimized, or silenced by those meant to protect them.
- Internet and Secular Exposure
In addition to the internal factors that push some children away, it is important to recognize the role that exposure to the broader world can play in shaping a child’s religious journey. The internet, social media, and easy access to secular ideas have created an environment in which questions, alternative lifestyles, and critiques of religion are only a click away. For some young people, this exposure does not cause them to leave, but it accelerates or crystallizes doubts that were already present beneath the surface. Online spaces often provide validation, community, and language for feelings they never expressed at home or in school. This does not mean that the outside world is inherently dangerous, nor that parents can or should attempt to seal their children off from it entirely. Rather, it highlights the need for open communication, intellectual honesty, and emotional safety within the home, so that when children encounter challenging ideas, they feel comfortable processing them with the people who love them most.
- Why This Is Not Simply a Parenting Story
What is critical to emphasize is that these factors are systemic and relational. They arise from the interplay of community norms, institutional responses, and cultural expectations. They cannot be reduced to parental intention, effort, or sincerity. Indeed, many respondents came from homes they themselves described as religious, committed, and well‑meaning. A substantial number were raised by parents who invested deeply in chinuch, observance, and family life. This reality alone should give serious pause to any simplistic narrative that locates blame solely—or even primarily—at the level of parenting.
Other Factors not mentioned in the Survey
- Mental Health Factors
While the reasons children leave observance are varied, it is important to acknowledge that mental health challenges often play a significant role in the process. Many young people who struggle with anxiety, depression, trauma, or emotional dysregulation find it difficult to engage with religious expectations that require stability, focus, and internal calm. These struggles are not signs of rebellion or ideological rejection; they are reflections of inner pain. When a child is overwhelmed emotionally, religious practice can feel impossible, not because they do not care, but because they are fighting battles that others cannot see. Recognizing this dimension helps parents respond with compassion rather than frustration, and reminds us that emotional wellbeing is often the foundation upon which spiritual life is built.
- Bad Chinuch and Religious Trauma Within the Home
While many parents provide warmth, stability, and sincere chinuch, it is important to acknowledge that some children experience religious life through the lens of fear, pressure, or emotional pain created within the home itself. When Yiddishkeit is presented harshly—through constant criticism, unrealistic expectations, punitive discipline, or the use of religion as a tool of control—children may internalize Torah as something frightening rather than life‑giving. In some cases, parents unintentionally communicate that love is conditional on religious performance, or that mistakes are met with shame rather than guidance. These patterns can create what is now commonly called “religious trauma,” in which the child’s emotional wounds become intertwined with mitzvos, halachah, or the image of Hashem. This does not mean the parents lacked good intentions; often they were simply repeating what they themselves were taught. But it does mean that healing requires honesty, compassion, and a willingness to rebuild the child’s experience of Judaism on a foundation of safety, dignity, and unconditional love.
- School Experiences
For many children, the school environment plays a central role in shaping their relationship with Yiddishkeit. Experiences of academic failure, harsh discipline, bullying, or feeling unseen by teachers can create deep emotional wounds that become intertwined with religious identity. When a child associates Torah learning with humiliation or fear, disengagement from observance may follow—not because they reject Judaism, but because they are trying to escape the pain connected to their school years. This is why it is essential for mechanchim and parents to be attuned to what a child is experiencing in the classroom and the beis midrash. Often, repairing a child’s relationship with Yiddishkeit begins with healing their relationship with the institutions meant to nurture them.
- Personality and Temperament Differences
Children are not identical, and their spiritual journeys reflect their unique personalities. Some are naturally independent, intellectually curious, or highly sensitive. Others struggle with conformity or feel suffocated in environments that emphasize uniformity over individuality. These traits are not flaws; they are part of the child’s God‑given nature. When a child with a strong sense of autonomy or a deep emotional inner world encounters rigid expectations, the tension can lead to withdrawal rather than connection. Understanding a child’s temperament allows parents to tailor their chinuch with greater wisdom, recognizing that what works beautifully for one child may be counterproductive for another.
- Gender‑Specific Pressures (Especially for Girls)
While many OTD themes are universal, girls often face unique pressures that deserve acknowledgment. Expectations surrounding tzniyus, social image, emotional maturity, and communal judgment can create intense internal conflict. For some girls, the constant scrutiny of appearance or behavior becomes overwhelming, leading them to associate religious life with pressure rather than dignity. Others feel limited by gender roles or lack meaningful avenues for spiritual expression. These experiences do not reflect a rejection of Torah values, but rather a struggle to find a place within a system that may not always address their emotional and developmental needs. Sensitivity to these gender‑specific challenges can help parents and educators support girls with greater empathy.
Taken together, these findings strongly challenge the simplistic explanation that children go off the derech primarily because of messed‑up parenting, dysfunctional homes, or a single flaw in the system. While there are certainly cases in which instability, neglect, or serious failures in the home or community play a significant role—and these cannot be ignored—the research makes clear that such situations do not represent the majority. For most respondents, leaving was not the result of one obvious problem or one clearly identifiable failure, but rather a complex process shaped by intellectual, emotional, relational, and communal factors unfolding over time. This reality calls for far greater nuance than the reflexive tendency to assign blame to parents or families.
B. Deflecting Parental Guilt: You are not alone – Many Tzadikim had OTD children
One of the most painful and enduring struggles parents face when a child goes off the derech is overwhelming parental guilt. Many parents torment themselves with questions of “What did I do wrong?” or “If only I had done things differently.” This self‑blame often compounds the already profound pain of watching a Jewish child step away from the way of life in which they were lovingly raised—a way of life parents themselves cherish deeply and often sacrificed greatly to pass on. It is essential to recognize that this experience is not unique, nor is it evidence of parental failure. Throughout our history, even great tzadikim and deeply committed parents had children who chose a different path. While honest self‑reflection has its place, crushing guilt is neither justified nor helpful, and it should not be allowed to eclipse love, perspective, or hope. Chazal themselves acknowledge this reality, and there are well‑known examples across generations in which righteous, devoted parents raised children who ultimately chose differently. It must also be stated clearly that even among the children of Rabboseinu Nesieinu, there were children and descendants who went off the derech.[1] This reality appears throughout our history and across generations. In no way does this reflect a failure, wrongdoing, or lack of kedushah on the part of their holy parents or grandparents. This does not excuse parental responsibility, but it does refute the notion that a child’s departure is, by definition, a moral indictment of the family.
C. Taking Responsibility and Having Open Conversation
Rejecting unjustified guilt does not mean rejecting reflection. If a parent recognizes genuine mistakes—harshness, inconsistency, emotional distance, or failure to listen—then the proper response is not self‑punishment but teshuvah: acknowledging wrongs, apologizing sincerely, and working to repair the relationship where possible. The survey above highlights how meaningful it is to those who have left when parents or family members offer understanding, respect, and a willingness to maintain connection despite differences.
- Family alienation – Handling the relationship with the OTD child
This leads to another critical issue we will address: family alienation. The data and the lived experiences reflected in the survey show clearly that cutting off children, shaming them, or severing relationships often causes deep and lasting harm, and rarely brings a child closer to Torah. Many respondents describe enduring pain from loss of family connection even years after leaving their community, underscoring how dangerous and counterproductive alienation can be.
In truth, children must receive a clear and consistent message that they are loved and cherished regardless of the choices they make. This is not only because it reflects the natural and unbreakable bond between parents and their children, but also because it reflects the eternal bond between Hashem and the Jewish people. Hashem’s love for a Jew does not disappear when observance weakens, and in a certain sense, that bond exists even when the relationship is strained. Modeling this truth within the family is itself a powerful form of chinuch.
From a practical perspective, continued love and inclusion are also the most effective long‑term way of sustaining a child’s connection to Yiddishkeit. When a child who has gone off the derech remains accepted and involved—still welcome at Shabbos meals, still part of family simchos, still surrounded by the same Jewish home and community—they are far more likely to retain meaningful points of connection. Even if they are not putting on tefillin every day, remaining part of Jewish family life often ensures that they do not lose their Jewish identity altogether. In many cases, especially later in life or after marriage, children find their way back in some form, often precisely because they were embraced rather than rejected during their most difficult years.
That said, this is far easier to write than to live. The emotions parents experience when a child goes off the derech are intense and complex. The pain is not only about the child departing from a religious way of life, but often feels like a personal rejection of the parents themselves—their values, sacrifices, and identity. Feelings of anger, resentment, betrayal, and shame are common and human. These emotions cannot simply be dismissed, and ignoring them often makes matters worse.
Because of this complexity, parenting in such situations should never be done alone. Decisions should be made with the guidance of a qualified therapist and an experienced rav who understands both halachah and human psychology. Alienation should never be undertaken lightly, and never without the explicit guidance of both a rav and a therapist—and even then, only in the most dire circumstances. This is not merely a question of chinuch or family dynamics; it is a matter of pikuach nefesh. Alienation does not only push a child further away from Judaism, but can also lead to severe emotional consequences, including depression and, tragically, suicidal thoughts.
One thing must be stated unequivocally: parents should never sever ties with a child who has gone off the derech without extreme necessity and professional guidance. Love, connection, and dignity are not concessions—they are lifelines.
- Expelling the child from the house Versus allowing him to remain at home
Last—but certainly not least—we must address one of the most difficult and emotionally charged decisions parents may face when dealing with a child who has gone off the derech: may the child continue to live at home?
The dilemma the parents face: Unfortunately, it is not uncommon for parents, driven by deep anger, hurt, and resentment, to respond by removing the child from the home. This decision is often fueled by multiple fears and pressures: the child’s open rebellion, refusal to follow household rules, concern over the influence on younger siblings, and the intense anxiety that the rest of the family will be drawn toward an unorthodox lifestyle. Parents may also invoke the principle of “my house, my rules,” believing that order and boundaries require decisive action.
Don’t judge the parents: It is critical to state at the outset that we must never judge parents who face this decision without fully understanding their circumstances. There are, at times, situations in which it is genuinely unhealthy—for the child or for others in the home—for the child to remain. Such situations are not unique to OTD cases and may arise for a variety of reasons unrelated to religion. Acknowledging this reality is part of honest and responsible guidance.
Never expel from home in anger: That said, what must be firmly rejected is the practice of removing a child from the home as a form of punishment. As emphasized in the previous section, expelling a child out of anger, frustration, or as a means of asserting control is not only counterproductive—it is often deeply damaging. Such actions typically push the child further away, harden resentment, and sever precisely the relationships most needed for healing and influence.
How to ask a child to leave: If, after careful consideration, it becomes clear that the child cannot remain in the home, this decision must be made—and communicated—with extraordinary care. It should be carried out with love, openness, and profound sadness, not wrath. The conversation should be honest and deeply emotional, marked by tears, vulnerability, and a true heart‑to‑heart exchange. The child must understand that this is an agonizing decision for the parents, not taken lightly, not driven by anger, and not reflective of rejection or abandonment.
There is a way back home: Most crucially, the child must always know that there is a way back home. Even if a moment arrives when the child is lovingly asked to leave the house, they must be absolutely certain that this is not a rejection of who they are, nor a severing of the relationship. They must know that if circumstances change, the door remains open—and that they are still wanted, still loved, and still part of the family, especially on Shabbos, Yom Tov, and family occasions. The message must be unmistakable: you are not being abandoned. Even if the child disagrees with the decision or feels hurt by it, they must be convinced that it was not made out of hatred, anger, or rejection, but out of painful necessity and deeper considerations.
A heart written letter: For this reason, it is often wise—when such a decision is unavoidable—for parents to express these sentiments explicitly, and even in writing. A heartfelt letter given to the child before they leave, articulating the parents’ deep love, pain, and longing for continued connection, can serve as an emotional anchor during a profoundly destabilizing time. Such a letter should clearly state that the parents hope and pray for the child’s return home if and when circumstances allow, and that the relationship remains intact regardless of living arrangements. When handled this way, even separation does not become abandonment; the bond of love and belonging is preserved.
Professional guidance – Never make this decision alone: Such a step to ask a child to leave the family home should never be taken without the guidance of both an experienced rav and a qualified therapist. These decisions lie at the intersection of halachah, psychology, and family dynamics, and no parent should navigate them alone. The role of professional guidance is not merely technical—it is essential in helping parents process their own emotions and avoid irreversible harm.
Avoiding the need for the child to be asked to leave: Importantly, many situations that initially appear untenable can in fact be managed through adjusted expectations and negotiated boundaries. Rebellion against rigid rules often reflects an inability to tolerate total control, not an outright rejection of family connection. Through open conversation and flexibility, parents can often establish workable agreements that allow the child to remain at home while preserving the religious environment. Such agreements might include maintaining Shabbos and kashrus in all public areas, refraining from influencing younger siblings, and showing respect for the home’s religious character—even if the child does not personally observe everything privately.
Alternative options: When remaining in the home truly proves impossible, a secondary option may be to help the child live elsewhere in a supported and connected way—for example, assisting with a dormitory arrangement or separate living space, while maintaining close family ties. Even then, the goal must remain connection, dignity, and continued relationship, not exile.
When Remaining at Home Is the Healthiest Option: It is important to recognize that there are many more families than is commonly acknowledged who have children that went off the derech yet continued to live at home and maintained warm, respectful, and meaningful relationships with their parents and siblings. No two cases are alike, and going off the derech does not automatically mean that a child is angry, rebellious, or hostile toward their parents. In many situations, the child remains respectful, values family connection, and poses no real harm to the religious environment of the home. In such cases, there is no justification for asking a child to leave simply because they are no longer observant or because parents are hurt or disappointed by that reality. Mere lack of observance should never, on its own, be a reason to remove a child from the home. More serious considerations—such as actively influencing younger siblings, persistent disrespect, constant hostility, or creating an unsafe or volatile home environment—may at times require difficult decisions, but these are fundamentally different issues. When tension is manageable and the child is willing to live with basic boundaries and respect, remaining at home is often not only possible, but the healthiest and most constructive option for the entire family.
F. All Hope is Not Lost – Changing Your Perspective
It is important for parents of OTD children to hold space for hope. Quite often, a child’s time off the derech is not permanent. Many parents have witnessed that after a period of searching, questioning, and distance, their child finds their way back to Judaism—sometimes with deeper conviction, greater sincerity, and a more personal connection than before. There are many cases in which this journey, difficult as it is, ultimately strengthens the child’s Jewish life rather than weakens it. Chazal and our mesorah remind us that spiritual growth is not always linear; at times, stepping back is what allows a person to move forward. Avraham Avinu himself began his journey by leaving the world of his upbringing in order to arrive at a truer and more profound relationship with Hashem.
Furthermore, even when many years have passed and a child continues to live a secular life, there is still much for parents to recognize and take pride in. A child who builds a stable home, raises children, works honestly, contributes to society, and lives a constructive and responsible life reflects values that the Torah itself cherishes—human dignity, productivity, and moral responsibility. Being productive and contributing to civilization is not merely a secular achievement; it is deeply consistent with Torah values. History itself offers moving examples of children of religious homes who left observance yet later played decisive roles in saving Jewish lives and strengthening the Jewish people, all while maintaining warm and respectful relationships with their families. Such stories remind us that a child’s worth, and a parent’s pride, cannot be measured by observance alone.
- OTD First Aid – Summary What You Can Do as a Parent
When parents first realize that their child is no longer observant, the initial discovery is often accompanied by shock, fear, panic, and a sense of loss. These emotions are natural. However, how parents respond in the earliest stages can have a powerful and lasting impact on the child and on the future of the relationship. The goal at this stage is not to fix, convince, or correct—but to stabilize, preserve connection, and prevent unnecessary harm.
Controlled First Reaction: The first and most important principle is self‑regulation. Screaming, panic, threats, and anger—while understandable—nearly always escalate the situation and push the child further away. If an instinctive emotional reaction occurred, it is critical to repair it quickly. Parents should follow up with a calm conversation, acknowledging the emotional response and reaffirming their unconditional love for the child. A simple statement such as, “I reacted strongly because I was scared and hurt, but I love you no matter what,” can go a long way in restoring safety and trust.
Take the child out to a restaurant and listen: Early on, parents should prioritize connection over confrontation. One effective approach is to take the child out of the house for a neutral, non‑threatening setting—such as a quiet restaurant or walk—and invite conversation. The initial goal is not debate or persuasion, but listening. Parents should ask open‑ended questions and allow the child to share their struggles, questions, and experiences without interruption. At this stage, lecturing, debating theology, or applying pressure usually backfires. Feeling heard is often the prerequisite for any future influence.
Expressing unconditional love: At that initial conversation—often best done outside the home, in a calm and neutral setting such as a quiet restaurant as stated above—it is essential that the first and clearest message the child hears is unconditional love. Before discussing concerns, boundaries, or religious questions, parents should state plainly and repeatedly: “We love you no matter what. Nothing you do can change the fact that you are our child.” These words are not assumed; they must be spoken outright. When a child senses safety and love, defensiveness softens and honesty becomes possible. This expression of unconditional love does not mean approval of every choice, nor does it deny parental pain—it simply establishes the foundation on which any meaningful conversation can occur. Without this reassurance, even well‑intended guidance may be heard as rejection rather than care.
Love Without Denial – Expressing Pain While Remaining Connected: It is also important to caution against the opposite extreme response, in which parents attempt to show complete emotional neutrality, saying in effect: “Nothing has changed. I am perfectly happy with your choices. I feel no pain, no disappointment, and this does not affect me at all.” While unconditional love is essential, total emotional indifference is neither realistic nor healthy. In every area of life, there are choices a child can make that justifiably cause their parents pain—whether stealing, seriously harming another child, or engaging in destructive behavior. In such cases, parents do not withdraw love, but they also do not pretend that nothing hurts. Similarly, unless it is clearly inappropriate or counterproductive in a specific case, it is important for a child who has gone off the derech to understand that their parents are saddened and affected by this choice, even while continuing to love them deeply. Expressed properly, disappointment communicates honesty, care, and emotional authenticity, not rejection. The message should be: “This hurts us because what you do matters to us—but you are still our child, and our love for you is unchanged.” When a child truly feels how deeply they are loved—and how much pain their parents experience over their disengagement from Judaism—this relationship itself can become a powerful motivating force. In families where love, honesty, and respect are strong, this awareness alone may lead a child to reconsider their choices, or at the very least to maintain respect for the home and its values, even during their period off the derech.
Establishing rules and Guidelines: At the same time, it is appropriate—and often necessary—to establish clear, manageable household guidelines, especially when the situation is identified early. Clarity prevents escalation. These guidelines should focus on respect, safety, and preserving the home environment rather than enforcing private observance. For many families, this means maintaining Shabbos and kashrus in public spaces, refraining from influencing younger siblings, and avoiding behavior that undermines the family’s religious life—while allowing the child space for personal choice in private. Flexibility and realism are key; rules must be set at a level the child can reasonably handle.
Calmness and Patience: Parents should also resist the urge to rush solutions. OTD is often a process, not an event. Many children move through phases of struggle, exploration, and questioning. Reacting with urgency or ultimatums can turn a temporary stage into permanent alienation. Remaining calm, consistent, and emotionally available often does more to keep doors open than any argument ever could.
Professional guidance for the parents: Throughout this process, professional guidance is essential. Parents should not navigate these waters alone. Consulting with an experienced therapist and a rav who understands both halachah and human psychology can help parents clarify boundaries, process their own emotions, and avoid reactive decisions—particularly regarding discipline, living arrangements, or family dynamics.
Professional help for the child: If, through open and honest conversation, it becomes clear that there are deeper or more serious underlying issues—such as depression, anxiety, trauma, addiction, or emotional distress—then it is critical to set aside stigma and act decisively to get the child the help they need. This may involve speaking with a therapist, psychologist, or psychiatrist, and there should be no hesitation or shame in doing so. In such cases, the child’s well‑being and safety must take precedence over all else. As painful as it may be for parents to accept, a child’s emotional health and stability are more important than their level of religious observance at that moment. A healthy child has the capacity to grow, heal, and eventually reengage with life—and possibly with Judaism—whereas an untreated emotional struggle can lead to far more serious and lasting harm. Getting proper help is not a failure of chinuch; it is an act of responsibility and love.
Compassion: Finally, parents must remember that their primary role is not enforcement, but relationship. Even when limits are required, they must be delivered with dignity and love. The long‑term goal is to ensure that the child knows—and always knows—“My parents are my safe place.” That sense of safety is often the strongest factor in whether a child eventually reconnects with Torah, family, or Jewish life in any form. This is not a promise of outcomes. It is guidance for presence. And presence—steady, compassionate, and grounded—is often the most powerful tool parents have.
[1] On a personal note, it is worth acknowledging that some choose to obscure this reality rather than confront it openly. At times, non‑observant children or relatives of tzadikim are quietly reclassified or spoken about in softened terms, not out of deception, but out of a desire to avoid pain or embarrassment for the Rebbe’s Family. In this article, we deliberately chose not to name any rabbeim or righteous figures whose children or descendants may have gone off the derech, as names are unnecessary for the point to be made. In my experience, however, there is great Chinuch and emotional value in stating this truth openly. Doing so helps parents understand that they are not alone, that this phenomenon can occur even in the most devoted and holy families, and that a child’s choices do not, by themselves, define the worth, sincerity, or righteousness of the home from which they came.