The phenomenon of dropout in the yeshiva world is not new. For many years, a certain percentage of young men leave the yeshiva after a year or two from their entry. The number of students starting their fifth (and potentially final—this is the time when yeshiva boys often begin shidduchim) will always be lower than those at the outset. This is not rare and not surprising. Recently, however, the matter has begun to disturb yeshiva heads. The phenomenon of boys leaving yeshiva, particularly given their ages and aspirations, has caused some to take the matter seriously and consider a new path.
While this article will not address the army issue, it is essential to realize that the matter of conscription cannot be isolated from a broad range of issues that impact the matter of army service
The hot issue of the day, of course, is army service for young Charedi men. While this article will not address the army issue, it is essential to realize that the matter of conscription cannot be isolated from a broad range of issues that impact the matter of army service. Certainly, the phenomenon of boys leaving their “alma mater” yeshiva institutions, among them those who enter various Charedi-oriented army programs, is worthy of study. In the following lines, I will attempt to explain what in today’s yeshiva world has led to the new situation and where it might be heading.
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In describing the phenomenon of leaving yeshiva, the word “dropout” is often banded around. Yet, it is important to clarify that this does not refer to dropping out as a “departure from the path of traditional observance” but to young men who venture into realms of academia and employment before marriage. In other words, they leave the yeshiva environment but not religious faith.
Where do these boys go? Some enroll in institutions like Machon Lev (Jerusalem College of Technology), Ono Academic College, or Hadassah’s Strauss Campus, all of which have special Charedi sections. Others join a variety of purpose-made programs for completing high school diplomas, civilian service, or specialized army units (such as the popular KodCode program). Some others will further their Torah studies in alternative frameworks outside the standard Charedi yeshiva space. These institutions and programs attract young men who do not seek to throw off the yoke of religious life yet do not find fulfillment in the yeshiva study hall or see their futures as Kollel students.
The departure of these young men from the yeshiva world may have upset some in the past, especially those rabbis who believed there was a place for everyone within the expansive walls of the study hall. However, the phenomenon captured only slight attention from the yeshiva leadership, and rightfully so. Indeed, not everyone fits into the rigid frameworks of yeshiva life. There will always be those who diverge, even among the most religiously committed and sheltered young men.
Today, however, the phenomenon has changed in several ways, including age—a shift that deserves emphasis. In the past, most “dropouts” from the system left yeshiva in the early years of their stay there, that is, at the age of 19-20. After a year or two of experience it became clear that they were not suitable, and hence the fast- path to new pastures. Even boys who enrolled in alternative institutions in their early twenties typically did so after spending time in an intermediate “mediocre” yeshiva—one aimed at “strengthening” their Torah studies—rather than transitioning directly from their original yeshiva.
Having reached the status of an eligible yeshiva student and perhaps even commencing the shidduchim period, it was unlikely for any such boy to leave yeshiva for some alternative
On the other hand, young men who persevered until their fifth year would typically remain within the yeshiva framework until their marriage. Having reached the status of an eligible yeshiva student and perhaps even commencing the shidduchim period, it was unlikely for any such boy to leave yeshiva for some alternative. It made far more sense to stay in yeshiva, find a match under the communal scrutiny of the shidduchim matchmaking, and make big decisions later in life.
The current scenario presents a shift whereby alternative tracks appeal to yeshiva boys from prominent yeshiva institutions, even at older ages. Previously, these young men would typically remain within the yeshiva framework until marriage before making what some have colloquially referred to as their “exit”—getting married, with the benefit of the generous dowry reserved for yeshiva boys. However, as noted, this pattern has evolved. Things have changed.
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After heated discussions took place among yeshiva deans, it emerged that most of these young men come from American families, residing in Beit Shemesh or other Anglo concentrations, alongside some open-minded Israeli families—families often referred to in Charedi parlance as “modern.”
In families of this kind, leaving yeshiva for employment of one kind or another is not looked down upon and does not raise tensions with leading a Charedi lifestyle. While such moves are often made post-marriage, the educational thrust in such families allows a bold yeshiva student to make a similar decision before marriage without suffering painful consequences. The shidduchim issue does not particularly trouble these young men. They actively seek young women interested in a husband who is involved in studies or work. It does not seem to matter much to them when exactly he started.
Instead of confronting the issue itself, internal discussions amid yeshiva heads and staff have raised the possibility of completely ceasing to accept boys from such families since they are unlikely to “endure” in the yeshiva framework until the expected end—the event of marriage. “So what’s the point of accepting them in the first place?” wondered some yeshiva heads aloud (I was myself party to this question, asked by a Rosh Yeshiva).
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The yeshiva institution as we know it today has two distinct goals.
The first is fostering excellence in Torah study, encompassing intellectual and human development. To cultivate this growth, the yeshiva emphasizes the overarching principle of independence, primarily manifested in the learning style itself. Rigorous debate, innovation, and continuous dialogue and engagement in learning are the DNA of Torah development of the oral tradition in the yeshiva. The ability to analyze, interpret, and clarify every word and nuance in the words of our Sages and early rabbis would not exist without this unique environment of the yeshiva.
Each individual has a unique role in Torah. The yeshiva enables its students to seek and find their place, taking nothing for granted. Students are encouraged to challenge, question, and engage deeply with the material until it becomes clear and settled in their hearts. Regardless of background, socioeconomic status, or abilities, everyone is granted the opportunity to toil in Torah and acquire profound and meaningful Torah knowledge. This belief, emphasizing the independence of thought and study, is why examinations are not customary in yeshiva: examinations establish specific patterns and styles, whereas the yeshiva is founded on freedom of thought.
Alongside being an incubator for excellence, the yeshiva also serves as a protective shell for vulnerable and impressionable young men from the ravaging wolves outside
The yeshiva has a second goal: to serve as a “Noah’s ark.” The yeshiva walls constitute defensive barriers against the turbulent winds of the times that threaten the young flock. Hence arises the famous directive of Rav A. L. Steinman, zt”l, whereby a young man should not be dismissed from the yeshiva, even if he does not excel in his studies (far from it), provided he does not harm others. Alongside being an incubator for excellence, the yeshiva also serves as a protective shell for vulnerable and impressionable young men from the ravaging wolves outside.
There naturally exists a deep tension between these two goals. As previously discussed on this platform (such as here), the first goal emphasizes independence and tends towards excellence, while the second accentuates conformity to internal norms and nurtures mediocrity. Roshei yeshiva are expected to strike the proper balance between these two, but they struggle to do so. External threats are greater than ever, young men are more vulnerable than ever before, and excellence has yielded its place to the secondary goal of strengthening Charedi society and defending against the flood outside the yeshiva walls.
A young man considered “too independent,” who does submissively accept institutional authority, is labeled a “rebel” in yeshiva parlance
Registration season for major yeshivas, which begins every summer, highlights this phenomenon. A young man considered “too independent,” who does submissively accept institutional authority, is labeled a “rebel” in yeshiva parlance. Regardless of learning abilities and talents, such young men will struggle to be accepted into desirable yeshivas, if at all. Everyone fears rebels.
Ideally, young men of this kind should be the most sought-after. There’s nothing like a healthy dose of defiance to sharpen independent, innovative, and critical thinking. Today, however, that same rebellious spirit jeopardizes the fate of these young men. Since the primary goal is protection, any rebellion is seen as a danger.
In other words, instead of preparing the student for Torah excellence, today’s yeshiva tends to prepare him for integration into the Charedi community. Under such circumstances, it is hardly surprising that young men with broad horizons and independent aspirations seek new paths. And it is likewise unsurprising that yeshiva deans and staff fear them. While they may achieve excellence, the goal of protecting young men from the outside world is undermined when yeshiva boys are overly ready to leave.
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I want to emphasize that the distress expressed by students leaving yeshivas, even at older ages, is not limited to a small minority. Countless young men feel constrained and sometimes suffocated in their yeshiva environment. If they could, and given the requisite courage, they would have long ago sought solace in new environments. In practice, only young men from more open-minded families muster the courage to take concrete action. The underlying trend, however, is far broader.
Over the years, attitudes within yeshiva institutions—not all, but many—have been moving closer to the equivalent of Charedi high schools for girls: the so-called seminary. Like the seminary, which prepares girls for marriage with yeshiva boys, yeshivas have enshrined a goal of preparing boys for marriage with seminary girls. The relationship becomes symmetrical, and both institutions are no more than another stop in the sheltered journey of the Charedi individual from birth to marriage. Unlike the situation in the past, student screening has become increasingly tied to family background rather than actual qualifications.
However, it seems that this trend may clash head-on with a concrete wall of the yeshiva students themselves. Yeshiva boys know how a yeshiva needs to look. They have keen senses that distinguish between an institution fostering creativity and excellence and one that is defensive and survival-oriented. Today, only few muster the courage to take concrete action: leaving the safety of the yeshiva for other shores. However, if the trend within the yeshivas does not change, there is a deep concern that the number is set to increase.
