I’m Jewish at a Christian high school, it’s taught me a lot about who I am - opinion

The student choir stands harmonizing beneath a glowing wooden cross suspended above the stage, their voices blending together as the lyrics glow across the projector at the front of the auditorium. Around me, most of the audience joins in.

After six years at Trinity Preparatory School, the Episcopal high school in Winter Park, Florida, I attend, I know the words to nearly every song by heart, but I never sing along. I’m Jewish.

I chose Trinity for its strong academics, not its religious identity, and I knew I would have to navigate being Jewish within its walls. The results have been mixed: On one hand, I am an outsider in a Christian institution whose religious practices are woven into everyday school life. On the other, the experience has pushed me to develop a stronger sense of my own Jewish identity and to seek out the Jewish community that Trinity doesn’t offer.

When my family and I were considering Trinity, we did not take religion into account heavily. According to Private School Review, Trinity Preparatory School ranks among the top 20% of private schools in Florida for SAT/ACT scores, AP courses, and sports offered, all while boasting a 100% matriculation rate. I don’t know of any Jewish high schools or public schools in Central Florida that offer the same academic preparation. Before enrolling, I knew a few other Jewish families at the school, which made the decision feel more comfortable.

But once I arrived, I quickly realized that choosing Trinity also meant learning how to navigate my Jewish identity within a school where Christianity is part of the institution itself. Nowhere is that more apparent than in chapel.

When daily school life centers on a different faith

Chapel is mandatory. I can’t go to the library or do homework somewhere else. The other Jewish students and I just sit there.

“I don’t feel comfortable singing,” senior Isaac Robinson said. “Chapel is a time where I feel like I stand out. When everyone around me is signing, it’s just alienating.”

That feeling, standing out by staying silent, is familiar among Jewish students. It is not a loud rejection. It is the quiet awareness of being surrounded by beliefs that are not your own, present in a sacred space that was not built with you in mind.

While we stand and sit when instructed, we don’t have to participate verbally. So, Jewish students like Robinson and I develop our own strategy of navigating.

“I kind of just sit there and zone out,” Robinson said. “I think maybe one or two times, I’ve fallen asleep.”

I don’t fall asleep, but I understand zoning out. It is not out of disrespect, but out of self-preservation. When the sermon centers on accepting Jesus as a savior, there is only so much connection I can force. I understand that I am in a Christian institution, voluntarily. I understand that this is part of their faith. But it is not mine.

Speakers at chapel talk about having a relationship with Christ, about Christian faith as the center of identity. The language assumes agreement. It assumes belief. That contrast does not disappear when chapel ends. It lingers in religion classes like Introduction to the Bible and holidays like Easter, Christmas and Ash Wednesday.

Sharing Judaism while learning from Christian peers

My friends talk about their faith casually — about Lent, confirmation or other religious practices I hadn’t heard of before I arrived here. I’m left trying to follow along without fully understanding. I don’t get laughed at or treated badly, but there’s a sense of being on the outside, of watching a world I’m not truly a part of.

At the same time, being Jewish at Trinity has given me opportunities to explain and share a part of myself that might otherwise remain invisible. I’ve taught my Christian peers about Passover and Hanukkah. Our conversations become a religious exchange where we learn from each other’s traditions and experiences.

Still, there are limits set by the school.

When students proposed creating a Jewish Student Union as a space for social connection and cultural discussion late last year, administrators declined the request due to concern that such a club could be considered exclusionary. Despite this, the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, whose members must be Christian and athletes, remains on campus. Other schools in the area, such as Lake Highland Preparatory School, have a JSU, while my school remains among the few Central Florida schools I know of without one.

I reached out to the school chaplain for a comment on how the school approaches non-Christian students. He declined to be interviewed.

Jewish students and I have worked around this obstacle by meeting off campus at a local Starbucks, creating informal gatherings every month. These meetings have helped unify my teen Jewish community, allowing students such as Caroline Rush to form connections they might not have had otherwise.

“Having informal JSU meetings helps me find a sense of community,” Rush said. “I found a support system, a group of Jewish people, that makes my day-to-day life feel easier.”

Finding Jewish community beyond the classroom

My Jewish life has never been confined to school. I attend temple for the High Holidays and stay active in my congregation throughout the year, and that community is where I’ve built the Jewish connection Trinity doesn’t offer.

Although religion has affected my high school experience in ways both subtle and obvious, it has never weakened my sense of self. If anything, it has pushed me to embrace my identity more proudly, represent the Jewish community with confidence, and appreciate the spaces and communities that have helped me feel like I belong.