We have a serious problem and, as far as I can tell, nobody is talking about it.
Over the past couple of years, I’ve been hearing from rabbinic colleagues, mental health professionals, educators, and families about a growing pattern that can no longer be ignored. Gambling and sports betting, most often through phone apps, have quietly become among the fastest-spreading addictions in our community. You can bet on that.
Almost always, it occurs in secret. Yet, at the same time, it’s hiding in plain sight. Conversations about “the spread,” casual bets on a fantasy team, constant comments about parlays – they’re happening in shuls, yeshiva dorms, and high school lunchrooms. What may seem like harmless sports talk is, in many cases, something much more serious.
In almost three decades of public life in communal leadership, I cannot recall another issue with such a dramatic gap between the scope of the problem and the absence of public conversation.
If you’re reading this, you fall into one of two groups. Either you already know exactly what I’m talking about, you’ve seen it, heard about it, maybe even dealt with it up close, or you think I’m overstating the case. If you’re in that second group, just ask. Ask a rebbe, a guidance counselor, a camp director, a college student, or a teenager. Trust me, you won’t have to ask twice.
The spread is real, the harm is real, and the silence is deafening.
Since the Supreme Court lifted federal restrictions on sports betting in 2018, gambling has exploded across the country. In 2024, Americans wagered nearly $150 billion, the highest total ever recorded. Thirty-eight states now allow sports betting, and most permit it online. Gambling no longer takes place mainly in casinos; it happens at home, in schools, or anywhere your phone can locate a signal.
A landmark multi-year survey of 19 yeshiva high schools in the New York tri-state area, encompassing thousands of students, found that Orthodox teens gamble at higher rates than their peers in the general population, with sports betting leading the way. The research, first highlighted several years ago and since replicated, reveals something deeply consistent: this is not a marginal issue. It’s a sustained trend, a uniquely persistent problem in our community.
Still, most parents and educators react with disbelief. We assume “our kids” are immune. We imagine that structure, spiritual grounding, and a close-knit community will protect them. Yet the very privacy that defines modern life, the screens, the apps, and the individual accounts, creates the perfect cover. Gambling doesn’t need rebellion to thrive, only secrecy. And while the concern often centers on teenagers, the problem extends well beyond them. Rabbanim and therapists are now hearing similar stories from adults, parents, professionals, and even community leaders quietly struggling with the same behaviors. It is not only a youth issue but a communal one, and like all addictions, it preys on the very values we often admire: energy, competition, and social connection. It takes what feels normal and turns it into a compulsion.
Some might argue that casual betting is harmless, a few dollars on a Super Bowl pool, a fantasy league among friends. But the line between playful and destructive is thinner than most realize. The same mechanisms that make these games exciting, risk, suspense, reward are the same ones that drive addictive behavior. For an increasing number of people, what starts as entertainment becomes a dependency.
Technology has accelerated that shift. Gambling apps are built for speed, privacy, and constant engagement. Teens can fake birth dates, use prepaid cards, or tap into shared family accounts. With Venmo, Apple Pay, and digital wallets, money moves instantly and invisibly. A generation ago, a teenager might have asked for twenty dollars in cash, and by the third time that week, a parent would start asking questions. That safeguard is gone. The transactions are quiet, seamless, and easy to miss, until the losses start adding up.
This is no longer a potential problem waiting on the horizon. It is already here, unfolding in front of us, whether we choose to look or not. The data, the stories, and the steady rise in concern from educators and therapists all point to the same conclusion: our community is facing an emerging addiction crisis that we are barely acknowledging.
Before we can begin to address it, we need to say it plainly: gambling has entered our homes, our schools, and our culture. The first step is to stop pretending it hasn’t.
I have intentionally paused here. In a follow-up piece to be published shortly, I plan to share some thoughts on what we as a community can begin to do, practically, responsibly, and with care, to address this growing issue. But first, we need to confront it honestly, to acknowledge and name the problem before we can talk about solutions.
Awareness alone won’t solve this, but silence guarantees that it will grow. A community that looks away while addiction spreads in its midst cannot call itself healthy. The question isn’t whether gambling has reached us—it has. The only question is how long we’ll keep pretending it hasn’t.
R' Rothwax
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The reason for this problem - as for all addictions - is the emotional and spiritual emptiness people feel and try to fill the void with harmful silliness.
The solution would be to bring people to a place of emotional and spiritual fulfillment and they won't need this outlet [and others such as the excessive drinking, use of recreational drugs etc. etc.].
