An old acquaintance, a religious-Zionist man whose knitted kippah covers virtually his entire head, approached me last night at an event and asked how I was doing. The direction of the conversation was pretty obvious, so I answered that I was okay and allowed him to continue. He told me he has many Charedi cousins with whom he used to enjoy a close relationship. In recent months, however, things had gone sour over the conscription issue. “I tried and tried to get through,” he explained while punching a concrete wall, “but a wall would be easier to move.”
This was by no means the first such conversation I’ve had, and I had little to say in response. My thoughts, however, were clear: We need to do better. Much better.
The social storm continues to rage around the issue of Charedi conscription, a matter that remains firmly on the table notwithstanding the recent ceasefire on the northern front. The costs of war have been too high, the pain too profound, and the demand too powerful. On the Charedi side of the fence, arguments abound. Whereas in the past, the conversation centered solely on Torah study, today it encompasses spiritual standards, the frailty of Haredi identity, the IDF’s progressive policies, and (more recently) distrust of an agreement due to the threat of Supreme Court interference.
In this article, I will attempt to shed light on one aspect of the issue, which might also be the most important: the matter of will
Despite occasional glimpses of light, it is hard to see a clear path forward.
In this article, I will attempt to shed light on one aspect of the issue, which might also be the most important: the matter of will. Do we wish to play a part? Do we want to serve? Will we seek solutions or excuses? Does the military, specifically, and more generally, the State of Israel, fall within the realm of our responsibility? I will seek an answer to these questions in the towering figure of Avraham Avinu. Based on his character and mission, I will argue that our response to the call for conscription—not for an elusive equality, but for participation and involvement out of a sense of brotherhood—must first and foremost be an affirmative ‘yes.’
We do want.
Given sincere desire combined with a measure of courage—also a profound legacy of Avraham—we will, God willing, overcome the obstacles on all sides and stride together toward a new chapter in the history of the Jewish people.
Avraham Avinu: Guarding the Good Path
Why was Avraham selected to establish the Jewish nation? The Torah does not provide a definitive answer to this question. After Avraham (then Avram) left with his father on a journey toward the land of Canaan, Hashem appeared to him without prior introduction, commanded him to go forth, and promised him the blessings of nation and (later) land. However, as the journey unfolds, the Torah gives us a glimpse into Avraham’s unique character and the reason for his selection.
When Hashem chose to reveal to Avraham the profound wickedness of Sedom and His intent to destroy the city, the Torah includes a verse in which Hashem speaks reflectively: “Hashem said: Shall I hide from Avraham that which I am about to do?” The ensuing statement highlights the special nature of our first forefather: “For I have known him, that he shall charge his children and his household after him, and they will keep the way of Hashem in performing righteousness and justice, so Hashem may bring upon Avraham that which He had promised him” (Bereishis 18:17–19).
[T]he difference between the God of Avraham and the gods of the nations is far more profound than a change of address. Unlike the ancient polytheistic world, Avraham understood that the existence of Hashem delineates a ‘way’—the “way of Hashem”
In other words, Avraham’s uniqueness is not the mere discovery of Hashem and His infinite existence. This knowledge switches the “worship address” from local deities to the One God, yet the difference between the God of Avraham and the gods of the nations is far more profound than a change of address. Unlike the ancient polytheistic world, Avraham understood that the existence of Hashem delineates a ‘way’—the “way of Hashem,” a path of goodness, righteousness, and justice. Furthermore, Avraham understood that human beings are charged with living according to this way and was willing to uphold it—to maintain it even in challenging circumstances and ensure his descendants would do the same.
Avraham’s uniqueness thus encompasses two fundamental qualities. The first is a matter of conscious awareness: Avraham lived with a consciousness of the good. He knew the path of human goodness and understood how it derived from a higher source, the “way of Hashem.” Chazal thus teach that Avraham “learned Torah from himself”—he understood the good (which would later be committed to the Torah) and could attribute it to its Divine Source (as we note in the Amidah: “Your Name is good”). Avraham thus “knew his Creator” (Nedarim 31a)—he knew the goodness of His way.
Alongside this, a second quality is required: courage. Sometimes, upholding Hashem’s way involves paying a price; risks are always involved. Avraham’s consciousness of a God who supports and reinforces the good gave him the courage to cling to the path even in the face of adversity. Chazal write that Avraham is a “wall”—”If she is a wall, we will build upon her a battlement of silver” (Shir Hashirim 8:9). He is dependable; you can build on him. They also state that he was called Eitan: strong, reliable, dependable.
The episodes of Avraham’s life reflect these two traits. At the very outset, he leads 318 men to war against a coalition of four kings, the strongest in the region, to rescue his nephew Lot. Why does Avraham risk his life in this way? The answer is that he understands the Divine good—in this case, the good of familial bonds—and possesses the courage to act on it in waging a dangerous war. He relies on Hashem, the source of all goodness, to assist him as he journeys along the path.
When Hashem informs Avraham of His intent to destroy Sedom, Abraham does not accept it with equanimity but argues on behalf of the city. “Far be it from You to do such a thing.” Knowledge of Divine goodness moves Avraham to argue with God Himself: it is impossible that the Divine source of all goodness should act in a way contrary to goodness itself. Rashi renders the word chalilah to mean secular or unholy. Avraham argued that destroying the city would run against the very principles of righteousness and justice Hashem defined. It would be ungodly.
The Torah states that child sacrifice is an abomination; nothing could be more unholy, unbefitting of Hashem’s way. Throughout the journey, Avraham remains confident Yitzchak will live
The climax comes at the Akeida. Avraham is so certain of Hashem’s goodness, his trust in His way so complete, that he is willing to take hold of the knife to sacrifice his son. He does so with the sure knowledge that it cannot happen. The Torah states that child sacrifice is an abomination; nothing could be more unholy, unbefitting of Hashem’s way. Throughout the journey, Avraham remains confident Yitzchak will live; he bet his son, so to speak, on his confidence in Hashem. To this day, we continue to daven his prayer: “He who answered Abraham our father on Mount Moriah, may He answer you.”
The list goes on, but the principle seems clear enough. It can be summarized in a single sentence: “The righteous shall live by his faith” (Chavakkuk 2:4). Faith in Hashem and His infinite goodness gave Avraham the courage to walk the path of the just even in times of great trial, through fire and water. Thus, he became an Ivri, which, as the Midrash says, means that “The whole world is on one side, and he is on the other” (Bereishis Rabbah 42:8). And thus, he merited to found our nation, the Jewish people.
Avraham’s Covenant and the Sin of the Spies
Faith in Hashem led Avraham to act tirelessly in the world, to call out the Name of Hashem in every corner. Other figures who lived in Avraham’s times recognized the existence of the Creator yet failed to reach his level. Noach walked “with God” but failed to attain the rank of Avraham, who was told, “Walk before Me.” Melchizedek, whom the sages identify as Shem (son of Noach), was “a priest of God Most High.” He recognized the Creator’s existence and knew how to serve Him, yet stopped short of bringing His way into the world. God remained ‘Most High,’ transcendent and hidden. Only Avraham was selected to establish the way of the Jewish people that brings the light of Hashem into all of humanity.
These words recall the style of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch zt”l and the formulation of his ethos in the words of Rabbi Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, the Seridei Esh: “The Jewish faith,” the latter wrote, “did not view life with a furrowed brow, nor did it consider it an enemy” (Toras Chaim). The Jewish religion, he continues, cannot “be confined to the realm of worship alone,” and it “necessarily aspired to encompass all areas of life and exercise full control over them.” Judaism, he quotes Rabbi Hirsch, “means a perfected and complete humanity; Jewish humanity.” Our task is not to withdraw from the world but act within it, following the faith of Avraham.
However, we have not always been faithful to this task. At times, we have neglected our role.
The gravest Jewish sin in the entire Torah represents the rejection of Avraham’s way in favor of another path. Because of this sin, an entire generation was doomed to perish, and the seed that Abraham planted was almost uprooted. This is the Sin of the Spies, in which the people chose life in the desert life over life in the land, a life of detachment over a life of action, abstinence over productive action. The verse thus states of the sin, “They despised the pleasant land; they did not trust His word” (Tehillim 106:24). The rejection of the land arose from a lack of the trust required to act upon the land. In the words of Moshe, “And in this matter, you do not trust Hashem, your God” (Devarim 1:32).
Rabbi Akiva Yosef Schlezinger, zt”l, expressed this idea in his own, original way when he explained that the spies preferred “to remain in the desert and study Torah from the mouth of Hashem,” since “the Torah was given only to those who ate the manna.” In contrast, Yehoshua bin Nun fought them, saying, “Let us ascend at once and occupy the land,” and thereby linking earthly action with the study of Torah (Toras Yechiel, p. 358). The heinous sin implied the complete rejection of Avraham’s way of Hashem. The entire generation was deemed unworthy of his promise: the promise of the land.
[W]ithout the land—without political independence that allows for the establishment of Jewish life in its fullest sense—there is no way achieve the fullness of Hashem’s goodness
The exile of Israel from their land is also referred to as the ‘desert,’ a place where the Jewish people are unable to fulfill their mission and purpose: “And I will bring you into the wilderness of the nations and there I will judge you face to face” (Yechezkel 20:35). Avraham’s promise of offspring is intertwined with the promise of the land, and without the land—without political independence that allows for the establishment of Jewish life in its fullest sense—there is no way achieve the fullness of Hashem’s goodness. During our years of exile, we fulfilled the mission partially through proxies, primarily Christianity, which brought elements of Torah values into Western society. The Jews themselves remained in the wilderness.
After two thousand years of exile, through the most convoluted means, Hashem brought us back. The heroic actions of Jews who recognized its goodness even while distant from Torah and mitzvos returned us to the Promised Land. Are we now ready for the core mission of calling Hashem’s Name and fully realizing the covenant of Avraham? It is up to us to answer the question.
An ‘Em Habanim Semeicha’ Moment
In 1943, while hiding from the Nazi oppressor in a Slovakian attic, Rav Yissachar Shlomo Teichtal wrote a fierce indictment against the Charedi community to which he belonged. Despite his past as a disciple of the Mozitz Rebbe, he declared that failing to join the Zionist movement was a grave error: Hashem leads the process of redemption by slow and natural means, and failure to join resulted, in Rav Teichtal’s view, in the terrible calamity of the Shoa. Hashem forcibly expelled us from the wilderness of the nations, forcing us to the shores of the Promised Land.
Em Habanim Semeicha sounds a cry from the depths of the author’s heart, leaving us a powerful and brave testimony of hope in Hashem’s goodness. Tragically, the author’s hope was not realized on a personal level; he did not live to see the Good Land. However, it was fulfilled on a national level. Against all the odds, the Jewish people returned to their land and established a Jewish sovereignty therein. The new political entity grew and flourished, defeating its enemies and building a strong economy and robust state institutions. The world of Torah and mitzvos also thrived, communities of devout Jews grew and prospered, and a new Teshuvah movement emerged, one that centuries of exile never knew, bringing thousands to lead a Torah life.
For years before its establishment and throughout its existence, we have grappled with the question: should we join? Can this ship be ours?
Despite all this, members of Charedi society continue to ask themselves: Do we have a share in this state? For years before its establishment and throughout its existence, we have grappled with the question: should we join? Can this ship be ours? The question was raised at the time of the Balfour Declaration in 1917. It came up again at the Katowice Conference in 1938, and was raised once more with the establishment of Begin’s right-wing government in 1977. It remains with us to this day—but perhaps not for much longer. It seems that the events of this past year have tipped the scales.
October 7th presented us with a striking mirror image that makes it far harder to straddle both sides. This is not because we are being forced to change; we are well-versed in sacrifice for Torah values, and nobody will coerce us to transgress them. Rather, it is because of a fierce demand that penetrates deep into our camp. We cannot stand in its way. The State of Israel has never fought a war lasting well over a year (the War of Independence lasted some 10 months). It has exacted painful costs over a long period, in both physical casualties and mental strain. Thousands of reservists have been away from home for hundreds of days, taking a huge toll on families.
Moreover, the war will fundamentally change Israel’s security doctrine, requiring a standing army far larger than ever before (the army has said consistently that it requires two new divisions, numbering over 20,000 soldiers). Given the new reality, the conventionally preferred option of moving on, “business as usual,” has become untenable.
The blessing of Avraham Avinu, “I will bless those who bless you, and I will curse those who curse you” (Bereishis 12:3), has never been more tangible
Furthermore, we are living in unprecedented times for the significance of the Jewish State. Since October 7th, Israel has taken center stage in the world’s moral debate, its supporters representing goodness and light and its detractors evil and darkness. This is a remarkable phenomenon. As David Nirenberg explains in his Anti-Judaism, the West has always defined itself in opposition to Judaism (real or imagined); as Paul proclaimed, “The letter kills but the spirit gives life.” Today, however, the West is divided between forces supporting actual Jews and Judaism and those opposing them. The blessing of Avraham Avinu, “I will bless those who bless you, and I will curse those who curse you” (Bereishis 12:3), has never been more tangible.
The point, for our purpose, is that the traditional Charedi attempt to distinguish Israel from the Jews is facing powerful opposition. As the forces of good in the world line up to defend Israel, while those of evil line up to harm the Jewish State, remaining neutral becomes virtually impossible. As we expect of others, we, too, must courageously stand on the side of the good.
In the binary question of whether to take part, to enlist or not to enlist, the answer must be a resounding ‘yes.’ Sorting out details remains thorny, of course. They are outside the scope of this article. The opening position, however, is key.
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Charedi society began its journey in Israel as a small, marginal group that thrived on its isolationist strategy. By the grace of Heaven, it has grown into a huge community with impressive institutions and a sense of confidence unparalleled in previous times. Internal processes have led to increasing integration in all areas of the state—politics, employment, higher education, culture, mental health, and more—except for the army. Then came October 7th with its demand for brotherhood and partnership, courage and faith, calling us to embark on a new journey. As we do so, we pray that the God of Avraham should be with us.
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I would like to offer the following Mashul from an American perspective. In 1954, the Supreme Court declared segregation on the basis of race to be unconstitutional. From 1954 until 1968, the enforcement of this decision moved forward despite massive resistance which requiired additional legislation, litigation, the use of federal troops to integrate schools and colleges. In 1969 USC, which had won a national championship with John McCay as coach and OJ Simpspn and which had an integrated football team played the U of Alabama then all white team, then coached by Bear Bryant , one of the greatest college coaches of all time, which also had produced great teams and players at Tuscaloosa Alabam. USC clobbered Alabama and the next year Bryant started recruiting African American players. Integration was accomplished on the football field-not because of court decisions, litigation or civil rights marches. We will see Charedi enrollment in the IDF increase not because of court decisions or Kol Korehs but rather we will see an increasing realization in the Charedi world that they have a stake in the future of Am Yisrael today that lives outside of the four corners of the yeshiva .
Does the military, specifically, and more generally, the State of Israel, fall within the realm of our responsibility?
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Threshold question – Do the Jewish People fall within the realm of our responsibility?
bsorot tovot
The author asks: “Despite all this, members of Charedi society continue to ask themselves: Do we have a share in this state?”
I have no grudge with haredim per se as the overwhelming majority do not have minds of their own. They follow the diktats of their rebbes or roshei yeshiva thereby freeing themselves and their consciences of any responsbillity for what amounts the the greatest ongoing act of mss larceny in recorded history. For them the question Rabbi Pfeffer asks is really do we have a right to help ourselves to a share of the state without giving ANYHTHING in return. And the question is rhetorical.
There is nothing inherently wrong with a hashkafa that rejects in toto the idea of a Jewish State and which refuses to have any material connection with it. As such, Neturei Karta and, to a lesser degree, Brisk can be respected for their principled antipathy toward the State of Israel and refusal to partake in its elections or of its largesse. Alas the overwhelming majority of haredi leaders are no less opposed, in principle, to Medinat Yisrael. However they have a much greater yetzer hora when it comes to justifying the plundering of its resources and the cynical manner in which it takes its armed forces for granted.