Roughly a decade ago, the Lithuanian (a.k.a. Litvish) Torah world was roiled by a wave of controversy following public statements made by Rav Yehoshua Eichenshtein shlita, Rosh Yeshiva of Yad Aharon and a close confidant of Rav Aharon Leib Shteinman zt”l.
Rav Eichenshtein stated—presenting his words as simple truth for “anyone with a mind in his head”—that the formative idea of Kollel society or “the learners society”—the ideal whereby any man minimally capable of full-time Torah study remains in the Beis Midrash for many years—was originally only a hora’as sha’ah, a temporary directive. Initially, he was quoted as saying that this policy was meant to last for three generations. In a recording released following the public storm, he clarified that the authority to determine when this directive should end rests solely with Gedolei Yisrael.[1]
Still, the question lingered: who would lead the transition? Who among the Gedolim could take on the role of initiating such a change?
And yet, for reasons I will discuss below, leading Torah sages refrained from issuing a concrete statement on the matter, and the question of timing remained unresolved. Rav Shach zt”l—according to a close family member who discussed the matter with him—believed the situation would shift after his passing. Still, the question lingered: who would lead the transition? Who among the Gedolim could take on the role of initiating such a change?
Though several figures were suggested, as my acquaintance related, Rav Shach did not find an adequate response to this question. Today, however, we can say that the matter is in the process of being resolved, yet by an altogether different channel. It is the same process that permitted internet use (though it was initially banned), legitimized Charedi academic frameworks, and recognized IVF treatments as a mitzvah (by the very halachic authorities who had originally prohibited them). It is called “time.”
Of course, Halachic rulings are often top-down, while those with a distinct social character are likely to develop bottom-up. When the process has run its course, Chazal inform us that delicate questions can be decided by force of the custom: puk chazi mai ama d’avar—go out and see what the people are doing. The custom, ultimately, determines the Halacha. Regarding Israeli Charedi society, it seems we are well into a seismic process.
The Verdict of Time
How does this remarkable process unfold, this “verdict of time” in complex and contentious matters? What moves the process, what animates it?
There is no single answer to this question. As arbiter, time sometimes rules strictly. According to the strict Halacha, it is only forbidden to eat meat and drink wine at the final meal before Tisha B’Av. But custom gradually extended the prohibition, whether during the week of Tisha B’Av, from the beginning of the month, or for the entire Three Weeks. Over time, these customs solidified into what became binding law. At other times, however, time rules leniently.
To illustrate the process, let us consider a once-prominent “prohibition” in the Charedi space: that of women driving. As a young Kollel student, I recall a relative of mine expressing concern about the few women (and their husbands) who allowed themselves to drive. “There’s something very immodest about it,” he asserted. And yet, not long ago, that same relative’s wife began taking driving lessons. What happened?
At first, it was women from abroad, chutznikiot, who simply didn’t understand what the fuss was about—what’s wrong with driving? As the expression goes, they “cooled the bath.” Then came women with special circumstances and pressing needs, who received special dispensations. Over the years, the category of “need” widened, and the stringency diminished in force. With the shift in Charedi women’s employment patterns, driving became an essential tool for many households—and the ban was (almost) entirely lifted (this applies to the Litvish community; for many Chassidic groups, the ban remains in place).[2]
Excepting rare instances, we do not remember the figures who took part in such processes—the early adopters whose actions began to shift norms. The reason is simple and just: we intuit that something larger was at play
Of course, time does not act alone. The change unfolds through the actions of individuals with a personal stake in the matter at hand: internet use, IVF, women driving. The need gradually outweighs the social or halachic hesitation. In some cases, these individuals receive quiet rabbinic approval. In others, such as the Charedi individuals who ascend the Temple Mount, they act of their own accord. But the names of those individuals are rarely known. The credit for the change goes not to them, but to “time” itself.
This point bears emphasis. Excepting rare instances, we do not remember the figures who took part in such processes—the early adopters whose actions began to shift norms. The reason is simple and just: we intuit that something larger was at play. Time itself—the period, the epoch—seemed to demand the change. The era was ripe for the respective stringency or leniency, and people merely served as its vessels.
To paraphrase Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi, even in our most autonomous actions, we remain servants of time.
The Quiet Power of Time Over Top-Down Rulings
At the conclusion of this year’s Yom HaZikaron ceremony—an especially moving event organized by the Netzach Yehuda organization—I spoke with a senior IDF officer who expressed disappointment in the rabbinic leadership. “If only they would say in public what they say in private,” he remarked, “we would be in a very different place by now.” As we all know, there is truth in the assertion: much that is said in private is concealed from the public eye. There are several reasons for this phenomenon.
The threat of public castigation, which almost inevitably leads to a diminished public status, is a strong deterrent for all of us, rabbinic figures included
Some highlight rabbinic fear—fear of backlash from those further on the right. Doubtless, this is part of the story. The power wielded by extreme factions (or even by individual askanim) and their ability to circulate letters, gather signatures, and make life miserable for their targets, grants them influence far beyond their numbers. The painful case of Rabbi David Leibel’s forced departure from Bnei Brak is but one example. The threat of public castigation, which almost inevitably leads to a diminished public status, is a strong deterrent for all of us, rabbinic figures included.
But there are other considerations, too. One is the concern over appearing (even superficially) to dissent from the rulings of previous generations of Gedolim. A recent exception to this caution is Rav Dov Lando’s assertion that earlier rabbinic authorities who supported the “Eretz HaKodesh” political faction were too immersed in Torah study to fully understand the issue.[3] As a rule, however, such things do not happen. Under everyday circumstances, reverence for past Gedolim is a legitimate reason to refrain from public rulings.
Still more significant is the concern over the far-reaching communal consequences that could follow such rabbinic pronouncements. A prominent Rosh Yeshiva once told me that if he were to publicly declare the legitimacy of going to work, the result might be that men who would have stayed in the Beis Midrash for another couple of years would leave earlier—and those loss of Torah years are deeply regrettable. Better, then, to say nothing.
The concern is still more acute concerning military service. Were senior rabbis to declare that those not studying full-time belong in the army—a declaration that many in and outside of Charedi society await—the result could be a dramatic and sudden upheaval in the Yeshiva world. Change is already occurring, but if initiated from “above,” it could destabilize the fabric of Charedi life. It is preferable, then, that these changes emerge organically, from the grassroots—in other words, through the passage of time.
When change unfolds through the long arc of social evolution rather than rabbinic proclamation, it avoids the tremors that often accompany top-down rulings, especially in a conservative community with an ethos of resistance to change
When change unfolds through the long arc of social evolution rather than rabbinic proclamation, it avoids the tremors that often accompany top-down rulings, especially in a conservative community with an ethos of resistance to change.
To be sure, those who have internalized a more radical form of that ethos will reject even grassroots change. This is the approach of the “Jerusalem Faction,” which denies legitimacy to processes of social adaptation: a Charedi individual who goes to university, in their eyes, forfeits his standing within Haredi society. This is also why they shunned Rav Aharon Leib Shteinman zt”l, who believed that gradual change from within should be quietly permitted, within reasonable bounds.
Yet, many follow the lead of Rav Steinman. This seems to be Rav Hirsch’s position today. In Kislev 5784 (late 2023), he noted that for one hundred years, “every ben Torah in Eretz Yisrael took upon himself to learn Torah for life.” Yet, things have changed. “Over the last twenty years, even in Eretz Yisrael, due to livelihood and other reasons, some bnei Torah have begun to do other things, including work” (See full recording here).
Rabbi Hirsch’s goal in these remarks was to encourage working Haredim to continue seeing themselves as bnei Torah—not as ba’alei batim. But for our purposes, what matters is the process his statement implies. In the past, before the twenty-year progression unfolded, working was not considered legitimate within mainstream Israeli Charedi society: “Those who came to Eretz Yisrael devoted themselves entirely to Torah—nothing else.” The pioneers of change, as one Rosh Yeshiva told me, “were not in the right.”
Today, it is possible to acknowledge a new reality: going to work has become legitimate
And yet, a process occurred. Today, it is possible to acknowledge a new reality: going to work has become legitimate. Those who do so no longer lose their spiritual or social standing. It happened gradually, without public upheaval, without destabilizing the community, and without a top-down ruling. The people, over time, spoke.
The Authority of Daas Torah in a New Era
The “verdict of time” comes at a price. Chief among the costs is the loss of centralized control—and alongside it, a quiet but fundamental transformation in the structure of rabbinic leadership within Charedi society.
The core principle of Daas Torah asserts that all major decisions must be made from above—and from above alone. As the Chazon Ish put it, one must defer to the authority of the Torah sages in matters of the “marketplace of life” no less than in everyday halachic questions. The approach that distinguishes between them, he argued, was “the old heretical path taken in Ashkenaz, which led the Jewish people to assimilate among the nations and vanish.”
The leadership model established under Rav Elazar Menachem Man Shach zt”l—whose influence lasted nearly four decades—brought Daas Torah to its historical peak. Every public matter, great or small, was ultimately subject to the ruling of the Gadol HaDor.
Rabbinic figures—spiritual shepherds—may (and ideally should) play a role in this process, offering guidance, counsel, guardrails, and feedback. But they do not lead it
In contrast, the verdict of time, as we have seen, emerges not from above, but from below. The people—individuals, communities, organizations, and institutions—initiate a process that has ramifications for an area of public life. Eventually, this process generates a new reality, one that comes to be seen as normative. Rabbinic figures—spiritual shepherds—may (and ideally should) play a role in this process, offering guidance, counsel, guardrails, and feedback. But they do not lead it. Leadership passes to the grassroots.
This is how nearly all the major transformations of recent decades have unfolded within the Charedi space, including realms of employment, higher education, military service, and even in the Torah domain—through new Batei Midrash for halacha, Kabbalah, midrash, Jewish thought, and more. Even the militant “Jerusalem Faction,” which arose as a reactionary force against these trends, was itself a product of this same process—and contributed in its own way to the erosion of the Daas Torah model. When the mainstream Torah leadership no loses its appeal, they presented an alternative: appoint someone else.
In this new Charedi era, nobody seemed especially surprised by the conduct of the Eretz HaKodesh party during the recent WZO elections. Rav Dov Lando, shlita, who was appointed as the leading rabbinic figure via the standard protocol of Yated Ne’eman, issued a scathing denunciation of the party’s participation in Zionist-affiliated institutions, banning involvement in the elections outright. And yet the party, its representatives, and its supporters—including prominent Haredi figures such as MK Moshe Gafni (whose son works for KKL) and MK Yitzchak Pindrus—carried on undeterred. Business as usual.
Close to three decades after the sun set on Rav Shach’s era, we can say without too much fanfare that the model of centralized Daas Torah leadership is shifting. The passage of time is doing its work.
Temporary Directives
Why did Rabbi Eichenshtein’s statement, as referenced at the beginning of this piece, provoke such a storm? After all, Rabbi Eichenshtein himself felt that the matter was entirely self-evident—who could think that the “new idea” of funnelling everybody into the Beis Midrash could be anything but a hora’as sha’ah, a temporary directive?
Official rhetoric tends to sanctify the Charedi way of life as is: no asterisks, no disclaimers
The answer is that nobody ever told us. Not in cheder, not in Beis Yaakov schools, not in the Yeshivot or seminaries—we were never taught that this was a hora’as sha’ah. Quite the opposite: official rhetoric tends to sanctify the Charedi way of life as is: no asterisks, no disclaimers. Rabbi Eichenshtein, astonished by the public reaction, learned that what seemed obvious to him was far from obvious to everyone else.
In truth, however, many of the norms that have become standard within Israeli Charedi society are, by their very nature, hora’os sha’ah—exceptional responses to the particular challenges of a given historical moment. Sooner or later, they must undergo a process of normalization, a return to the enduring norms of Jewish life as practiced across multiple generations.
When I recently heard the figures for the prestigious KodCode army program—several thousand young Charedi applicants competing for just a few hundred spots—I understood just how far this process has already come. And the process is not confined to one area. It spans numerous fields and arenas: education, higher education, workforce participation, and civic duties, of which the first and foremost is army service.
For some time, that balance was disturbed, bringing us the peak of Rav Shach’s rabbinic dominance over all things public—a kind of rabbinic version of the Platonic king
Moreover, the normalization process touches even on the delicate balance between rabbinic leadership and civic or lay leadership—what we might call in Hebrew manhigut ezrachit. For some time, that balance was disturbed, bringing us the peak of Rav Shach’s rabbinic dominance over all things public—a kind of rabbinic version of the Platonic king that left little space for lay leadership and communal autonomy.[4] But here too, it seems this was another Charedi hora’as sha’ah. A recalibration is in the offing.
Time, indeed, will tell.
[1] The full recording is available here: https://www.kikar.co.il/haredim-news/186167.
[2] The following article presents the latest development in this field: training Charedi women to become driving instructors: https://www.jdn.co.il/economy/2364751/.
[3] See here: https://www.inn.co.il/news/664980.
[4] On a related topic, I was recently referred to a reference by Rabbi Yitzchok Breitowitz, citing Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky zt”l, on the loss of autonomy or “the Chasidification of the Litvish world.” The relevant clip is available here.
Picture: Bigstock
who could think that the “new idea” of funnelling everybody into the Beis Midrash could be anything but a hora’as sha’ah, a temporary directive
The answer is that nobody ever told us. Not in cheder, not in Beis Yaakov schools, not in the Yeshivot or seminaries—we were never taught that this was a hora’as sha’ah.
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Interesting – is this along the lines of the Rambam’s definition of bal tosif or other’s definition of ziyuf hatora?
bsorot tovot
Bottom-up has been how change has normally occurred in traditional societies as articulated and demonstrated by the late Prof. Jacob Katz. In time, rabbis put boundaries and added restrictions to ensure that the changes better comported with halakha. Top – down change as daat toreh might imply is a modern myth.
“As arbiter, time sometimes rules strictly . . . at other times, however, time rules leniently. To illustrate the process, let us consider a once-prominent “prohibition” in the Charedi space: that of women driving.”
Another example that comes to mind is the “issur” of listening to music after the churban. It’s an explicit halacha in the Shulachan Aruch (though many disagree with the parameters), but it is essentially ignored nowadays. The halacha as stated in the SH”A is simply unworkable, and almost cruel.
Rav Eliezer Waldenburg in Tzitz Eliezer points out that the opinion of the Rema was accepted in effect by Jews everywhere who listen to musical instruments and teach their children to play them. He cites R. Ya’akov Chagiz, who in his responsa Halakhoth Ketanoth , #9, declares as a general principle in halakhah, that Divine Providence would not allow Jews everywhere to follow an erroneous individual opinion . If custom has followed a certain opinion it is most probably correct. Rav Waldenberg adds that this is certainly the case here with respect to music since the opinion followed is none other than that of the Rema, whose pesak is followed by Ashkenazic Jewry evewhhere. R. Obadiah Yosef in response Yehaveh a’ath, I, #45, maintains that the opinion of Rashi and Tosafoth and others allows instrumental music as long as it is not in conjunction with drinking. (Rabbi Aharon Kahn)
Puk chazi mai ama d’avar indeed.
One reason for temporary rulings or ways of life is to outlast an external threat. After a while, the threat changes, diminishes, or goes away, so the underpinnings of such rulings no longer exist. But not all accept that anything changed. Intransigence at such a time can ironically give new life to the threat.