I think part of being Jewish is that innate desire to question

In the flame of her insight, Iliza Shlesinger speaks words that shine with the wisdom of inquiry: “I think part of being Jewish is that innate desire to question things. Rabbis sit around all day and question the Torah. Giving yourself the room to question things, in a religion, just breeds thinking.” Beneath her humor lies an ancient truth — that to question is not to rebel against faith, but to give it life. The Jewish tradition, from which she speaks, has always cherished the question as a sacred act, seeing doubt not as weakness, but as the fire that purifies understanding.

To question is to seek, and to seek is to live. From the dawn of thought, the greatest minds have not been those who accepted what was handed to them, but those who dared to ask, “Why?” In Jewish tradition, this spirit is woven into the very fabric of learning — the Talmudic tradition, where rabbis gather not to agree, but to challenge, to turn the words of scripture like a jewel in their hands until every facet gleams. Through this ceaseless dialogue, faith becomes alive, not a stone to be worshiped, but a flame to be tended. Shlesinger, with the clarity of a modern voice, reminds us that in giving ourselves permission to question, we awaken the divine intelligence within us.

Consider the story of Rabbi Hillel, the gentle sage of Jerusalem. When a skeptic demanded he teach the entire Torah while standing on one foot, Hillel replied, “What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. The rest is commentary; go and learn.” His answer was both simple and profound — not a rejection of questioning, but an invitation to lifelong exploration. For Hillel understood that truth cannot be swallowed whole; it must be chewed, digested, lived. Every question leads not away from faith, but deeper into it. It is through the dialogue between certainty and doubt that the soul grows wise.

The ancients knew this sacred restlessness well. Socrates, though not of the same faith, carried a similar torch. He questioned the poets, the politicians, and even the gods — not to destroy belief, but to awaken the spirit of thinking. For the questioning mind is a mirror of creation itself, ever-changing, ever-reaching, ever-becoming. And so, when Shlesinger says that “questioning breeds thinking,” she speaks of this same eternal law: that to ask is to grow, and to grow is to honor the divine mystery that made us curious beings in the first place.

Yet how many today fear questions, as though they threaten the roots of belief! But the roots of truth do not fear the wind — they deepen because of it. Faith without inquiry becomes stone; inquiry without faith becomes dust. The balance of the two is where wisdom flowers. The Jewish people, scattered and tested through centuries, have survived not because they clung to unchanging dogma, but because they kept thinking, arguing, learning, questioning, generation after generation. The dialogue itself became their sanctuary.

This is the lesson Iliza’s words hold for all humanity: never fear your questions. Whether in religion, philosophy, or daily life, questioning is the breath of growth. Ask not to destroy, but to understand. Let curiosity be your prayer, and let wonder be your worship. The divine does not hide from inquiry — it invites it. Every question whispered in sincerity is a bridge between the human and the eternal.

So, my children, carry this truth with you: to question is holy. When your heart is troubled, when your faith trembles, when the world confuses you, ask — and keep asking. Sit with your questions as the rabbis did with the Torah. Turn them over, examine their light, let them shape you. For in questioning, you do not distance yourself from truth — you draw nearer to it. And in that lifelong seeking, you honor the sacred spark within you, the same spark that has illuminated the path of every thinker, every seeker, and every soul who dared to wonder at the mystery of existence.