In Part One of this essay published in The Jewish Press a few months ago, I described the growing tension between the charedi and non-charedi (which includes the secular and dati-leumi – national-religious) public. I contended that the charedi community must acknowledge that the events of October 7 have dramatically transformed Israeli society and significantly affected the interactions between charedim and other societal groups, such that the status quo will no longer stand.
If you have been following the news, you know that all my predictions have come true. With mounting casualties, the army faces a large shortage of manpower. The Israeli Supreme Court has ordered the government to cut funding to all yeshivos and kollels whose students do not serve in the army. The battle lines have been sharply drawn: The overwhelming majority of the Israeli public is no longer willing to put up with the mass exemption of all charedi young men from the army. The endless rounds of reserve duty that miluimnikim are forced to serve severely impacts their businesses and families. The country also sees the massive growth of the charedi sector, which now numbers more than a million. Israelis are worried about future demographics in which a huge percentage of the population refuses to shoulder their national responsibilities.
Sadly, the charedi leadership sees it as a religious imperative of the highest order to resist any change regarding national service, even for those (estimated at 35%) who are not in yeshiva and not learning. Efforts to create collaborative systems with the army in which charedi standards of tznius, limud haTorah, tefillah, Mehadrin food, and other needs are met are rejected out of hand – although there are a few small successful programs, notably Yeshiva Derech Etz Chaim, the first charedi hesder yeshiva.
Instead, they are spreading the narrative that the government is set on destroying Torah and the charedi world in a fit of anti-religious hatred. Leading elderly rabbonim traveled to America attempting to raise vast amounts of money to replace the government largesse that has kept them afloat till now. Massive demonstrations are the religious call of the day in which the participants scream, “We will die rather than be drafted!” accompanied by calling police Nazis when they attempt to disperse them.
At the same time, we are moving closer and closer to a full-scale war with Hezbollah on the northern border, rachmana l’tzlan. It is a time for national unity, but unfortunately, the reverse is happening.
My motivation for writing this essay now stems from a firm belief that the perspectives being disseminated by the charedi leadership do not reflect the views of everyone – possibly not even the majority – within the charedi population. It is time for those within the charedi world who recognize the need for change to use their influence to positively drive a shift in attitudes.
This belief has been strengthened by several recent events. The January pro-Israel rally in Washington, which saw hundreds of thousands of Jews uniting to bolster support for Israel and combat the alarming rise in antisemitism, had a notably poor attendance from the charedi community. This was due to many leaders advising against participation through statements that shocked many in the yeshiva world. In Israel, there were many shining examples of charedim championing positive messages of unity and appreciation for IDF soldiers.
At the same time, unfortunately, opposing voices emerged as well, disparaging those who “glorify soldiers,” condemning those who volunteered to serve in the army – and much worse. This was in addition to statements by some of the most senior leaders in the charedi world that yeshiva students should not visit wounded soldiers and help their families, as it might disturb their serenity when learning. Or that the bein hazmanim must offer the regular month-long recess from yeshivos, as the bochurim and avreichim (unlike the weary soldiers) need to recover from the rigors of a long winter z’man.
The only concession to the harrowing reality gripping Israel – with constant threats faced by civilians, tens of thousands of whom remain displaced, and many families mourning loved ones – was that bachurim should be careful not to be seen taking pleasure trips (tiyulim), as this would invite negative publicity. Many who call themselves charedi (by default) are appalled by such statements and attitudes.
These are just some recent events. There is a long history of spokesmen, including those considered important charedi rabbonim, taking increasingly extreme positions and dismissing what used to be mainstream ideas while claiming that their extremist positions were always the norm and are mandated by “Da’as Torah.”
I find this all very uncomfortable at best; maddening and disappointing are better words to describe my feelings. After all, many people might classify me as charedi. I wear a black hat (although I wear colored shirts on weekdays), identified as a member of Agudas Yisroel, went to “black hat” yeshivos, looked to the Moetzes Gedolei HaTorah as the voice of Torah authority, do not say Hallel with a beracha on Yom HaAtzma’ut, have a son and several sons-in-law who learn in kollel, and so forth.
Nevertheless, I feel thoroughly distanced from most of the pronouncements of rabbinic and political charedi spokesmen. I cannot listen to any of the statements mentioned above with anything but disdain. I know deep in my kishkes that they are not in line with the mesorah that I grew up with – with the Torah I heard from Rav Moshe Feinstein, Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky, and Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, zt”l, and others of that generation, and that of my personal rabbeim.
More importantly, I daresay that there are, at the very least, tens of thousands of people who feel hashkafically similar to me, both in Israel and the Diaspora, whether or not they say it out loud. While this has long troubled me and many others, we have somehow made our peace with it. Nevertheless, current events have shown the vital need for people to speak out and reclaim the spiritual mooring that has been taken from us. We – the middle-of-the-road men and women who grew up in ordinary, yeshiva-oriented homes and yeshivos – have been shunted aside and subsumed within the “charedi” label, to our detriment. We want to be serious avdei Hashem who hold on to traditional values and the way we were raised without being associated with attitudes and statements by others within charedi society who do not represent us at all, to put it charitably.
Although it is now coming to a head, I have been thinking about this matter for many years. In a lengthy article I wrote a decade ago, I described in detail how the hashkafic group that I, and many, many others, grew up with had somehow been taken from us. In the 1960s and 70s, my family and I were not considered charedi – we had never heard the term. Rather, we knew that there were three major groups within the Ashkenazi Orthodox world, each containing various factions. The three groups were (a) Modern Orthodox, (b) so-called ultra-Orthodox, and (c) a large group in the middle. These are rough, simplistic characterizations of the three groups:
- Modern Orthodox tended to be Religious Zionist, identified with Mizrachi and/or Yeshiva University, were very open to secular culture, saw great value in secular education, were careful about basic observance but not anything perceived to be a chumra, except for the more serious individuals, some of whom were first-rate talmidei chachamim.
- Ultra-Orthodox tended to be primarily Chassidic (e.g., Satmar), very opposed to Zionism, not identified with Agudah, closed to secular culture, proud to say that they had little or no secular education, honored Torah learning, and placed a high value on rigorous observance and adopting many chumros.
- In the middle were those not supportive of Zionism and who often expressed critical views regarding the secular leadership and the State of Israel, refraining from celebrating Yom HaAtzma’ut. Yet (whether or not expressed overtly) they were deeply concerned about the welfare of the State of Israel and were quietly proud of some of her accomplishments. They typically aligned themselves with Agudah, were open to some aspects of secular culture, and were interested in sufficient secular education to qualify for a well-paying job without generally pursuing higher education; those who did so usually attended university after dedicating several years to full-time yeshiva study. This group was diligently observant and placed a high value on Torah learning.
These descriptions were similar, though not identical, to the three broad divisions in Israel: (1) Dati-Le’umi – identified with Mizrachi and Yeshivot Bnai Akiva; (2) Charedi – tended to mainly live in Meah Shearim/Geulah/Bnei Brak, including groups such as Briskers, Satmar, Neturei Karta, and the Eidah Charedis; and (3) those in the middle group (“MG”).
The MG were non-Zionist but not anti-Zionist, thankful for many of the accomplishments of Medinat Yisrael, interested in its welfare, and appreciative of government-provided services such as the army, police, and National Insurance. They generally identified with Agudah. Many learned full-time for a few years after marriage, after which they would briefly serve in the army before going to work. There was little interest in secular education beyond elementary school.
There was a fairly straightforward division as to which gedolim belonged to which camp, both in America and Israel. One could never imagine, for example, that Rav Moshe Feinstein would be considered authoritative in Satmar or that the Satmar Rav would be the guide for MG; it was clear that these were different streams with different shitos and hashkafos.
Interestingly, the MG did not self-identify as charedi. They saw significant differences between themselves and the Eidah Charedis. MG would usually call themselves “yeshivati” (yeshivish), “Litai” (Litvish), “chassidi” (chassidish), “Sefardi” (Sephardic), or just “a frummer Yid” or “black hat.”
My lament is that, somehow, that large middle group has unofficially but firmly disappeared. In today’s Orthodox world, you are either Modern Orthodox/dati–le’umi or charedi. I awoke one morning and found that my family and I were now considered charedim, as most of those who were once MG somehow came to be called charedim.
It is not entirely clear why this happened. In the aforementioned article, I discussed some possible causes. However, whether these or other factors caused the demise of the middle group really doesn’t matter. The bottom line is that it has occurred and is the reality we now live in – you are either Modern Orthodox/dati-le’umi or charedi. (A small number call themselves chardal – which stands for charedi–leumi. They are somewhat like the middle group, but have failed to garner significant membership.)
OK, you might say, so what if I am called charedi? After all, there are certainly benefits to being considered charedi. Feeling at home in the warmth and geshmak that abounds in yeshiva and chassidic communities is good. Moreover, there are beautiful charedi accomplishments – like all the chesed groups, Hatzalah, Zaka, the Siyum HaShas – which charedim can justly take great pride in.
Unfortunately, however, it has a very negative side. First of all, besides the aforementioned pronouncements that I abhor and do not want to be associated with, it is no secret that in much of Israeli society (and the American Jewish community), being labeled as charedi in Israel is to be considered complicit in many negative actions, attitudes, and shirking of national responsibility that enrage the rest of the public. These have caused charedim to be among the most reviled groups in Israeli society, as I discussed in Part One of this article.
By accepting the term charedi, I am classified with a label that is used by the non-religious, and certainly the non-Jewish, world to identify what they see as a million-strong monolithic group that includes extremist views antithetical to my beliefs, even including anti–modern Eidah Charedis and the horrible Neturei Karta. All of them – all of us – are referred to with one term: charedim.
When I have discussed this issue with others, including close friends and family, they usually respond, “Come on, we all know that there are still major differences. You know that I and my chaverim have nothing to do with the terrible Neturei Karta and Peleg Yerushalmi and other extremists…Everyone knows that mainstream charedim do not support that and are opposed to them!”
I respond, “First of all, even if you and your chaverim know that, the outside world does not. To them, you are the same; you are charedim. Secondly, there are more and more leading rabbonim who fully agree with the extremist views and are now considered mainstream charedi.
And most importantly, in almost every case of severe chillul Hashem by those groups, the “mainstream” charedi leadership does not condemn them and does not disassociate from them. They just accept that the extremists will do their thing (and influence far too many young, impressionable minds), do not stand up to their often violent tactics, and just let them be. And the chillul Hashem continues, and the charedim become more and more reviled and feared by the general public.
In the existential struggle that is going on right now and consuming Israel, it is simply not true that all who are called “charedim” agree with the stance of the charedi leadership that no change whatsoever be allowed and that all young men, regardless of whether they are actually learning, must not be drafted into the army. Speaking on their behalf, I can attest that we recognize that:
- The deal worked out between the Chazon Ish, zt”l and Ben Gurion almost 80 years ago – whereby the few hundred full-time learners (at most) were exempted from army service in an attempt to rebuild the Torah world destroyed in the Holocaust – was a temporary measure, not envisioning a time when hundreds of thousands would be exempted.
- The system by which the “shvers” (fathers-in-law) would support young married couples is unsustainable today, given that three generations of shvers have been engaged in full-time learning.
- It is simply not true that going to the army means that a young man necessarily will be lost to Yiddishkeit. Tens of thousands of wonderful yirei Shamayim and talmidei chachamim in the dati–leumi and particularly hesder world prove otherwise. A similar system can and should be set up with the active collaboration of charedi roshei yeshiva to provide for proper Torah, tefillah, kashrus, and tznius standards if only there was the will to work together on it, recognizing that the status quo must change. (As I mentioned earlier, one such hesder yeshiva already exists, but is considered marginal by the overwhelming majority.)
- Clearly, there are large groups of charedim who will never agree to any change and will fight changes ever more fiercely – the true “ultra-Orthodox.” They should be left to fight their own battles with the Israeli authorities, and not bind the many who quietly do not agree with them and see the need for change. If the latter had a more pragmatic and rational group they could be part of, they could publicly disassociate from those who say, “We would rather die than be drafted!” and continue to enrage the Israel public|.
- The tolerance of the larger Israeli society for such a large segment of the population who (as they see it) do not work, do not serve in the army, do not contribute (with notable exceptions like Hatazalah, Zaka, etc.) while demanding huge government benefits and stipends has ended. There is no political, judicial, or social will to continue this. None – to the extent that there is any talk of support for it, it is seen as pure political blackmail.
Why must I choose to either be dati–leumi or charedi? Why have people like me been left bereft of a hashkafic home when we are just trying to live Torah lives based on the chinuch we received in the MG of old? If only there were a different group that I could be publicly associated with! One that looked for its Torah guidance to the many great rabbonim today who teach and speak in the true mesorah of the great gedolim of my youth and do not share these extreme hashkafos but (perhaps because of this) are not widely seen as the gedolei hador. A group that stood firmly for shmiras haTorah and dikduk b’mitzvos, but also for inclusiveness, moderation, and the cardinal need for us to focus – in word and deed – on “making the name of Hashem beloved through the model you present” (Yoma 86b).
Indeed, it is time to publicly and clearly redefine and contrast the two broad groups as separate hashkafic entities with different mindsets and worldviews.
If that were so, I would not be subject to criticism of my group by the secular media and public, who conflate all charedim and tar them with the same brush. Let those who espouse extremist views and condone associated actions live with the results of their choices while allowing the rest of us to follow a different path, unencumbered by that association. It is patently ridiculous and unfair that the great majority of the “middle group,” who are repulsed by many things that happen in the charedi world, have to feel defensive because of their “fellow charedim.”
Finally, I must admit that I debated whether this was the time for this article, as it has been such an unusual time of Jewish unity. But first of all, as I described in Part One of this article, that unity is very fragile and, in fact, already starting to come apart. Moreover, I am talking about an issue already being hotly debated in the public square, with many people upset about the issues I pointed to at the beginning of this essay.
In the late Jewish Observer, Rav Nachman Bulman, zt”l penned a vital article, “What Price Unity,” regarding relations between the Orthodox and the non-Orthodox. In it, he spoke of the tension between the need for peace and unity among Jews and the need for clear distinctions when significant matters of principle were concerned. He argued that while standing together against external threats is crucial, we must not be cowed into accepting what we perceive as a distortion of our banner of Torah. Jewish unity is generally vital, but our tradition teaches us that it is not always so. We need achdus, but we also need havdala, when unity comes at a cost that is too great.
