Between Torah and Derech Eretz

Several months ago, I took part in a panel discussion alongside a well-known Haredi rabbi. After we presented our respective views on the relationship between Haredi society and the State of Israel—between Haredi identity and Israeli civic life—the floor was opened to questions from the audience. As is often the case, this proved to be the most interesting part of the evening.

One of the questions veered slightly from the central topic and addressed a related but different issue: the cleanliness of public spaces.

“I live in Jerusalem,” the questioner said, “and I find it very difficult to deal with Haredim and litter. During bein hazmanim, you can barely see the grass in Sacher Park beneath all the trash left behind by Haredi visitors. How are we to understand this?”

My own response was somewhat circuitous. My fellow panelist, by contrast, a well-known rabbinic figure, answered succinctly and to the point: “We have a problem with derech eretz.”

Indeed, this “problem with derech eretz” is sadly evident in a wide range of areas. At times, as in the Meron disaster, it has proven deadly. More recently, it has manifested itself in an especially stark and troubling way in the form of unruly Haredi demonstrations on Israel’s highways: in Jerusalem, Bnei Brak, Beit Shemesh, and elsewhere.

My fellow panelist, by contrast, a well-known rabbinic figure, answered succinctly and to the point: “We have a problem with derech eretz.”

Tragically, these demonstrations have exacted a terrible human toll. Two teenagers have already lost their lives, and others have been injured. Beyond the immediate tragedies, they have fueled hatred and revulsion toward the Haredi public, and even toward Judaism itself (which Haredi society claims to represent).

In what follows, I wish to examine the roots of this “problem with derech eretz” from which we suffer, and then consider what can still be done. At the onset, I should emphasize that I don’t mean this as a comparison with other sectors, each with its strengths and weaknesses. Irrespective of anybody else, we need to hold ourselves to high standards.

 

Derech Eretz Precedes the Torah

The concept of derech eretz encompasses a wide range of worldly pursuits, as I will illustrate below. Yet its most fundamental expression is the realm of livelihood, as stated in Pirkei Avot: “Torah study is cherished when combined with derech eretz, for the toil of both causes sin to be forgotten” (2:2).

Even before good manners, norms of modesty (see Chagigah 5b), or concern for the dignity of Jewish women (see Ketubot 10b), derech eretz means going out to work—conducting oneself in the way of the world.

Because of the centrality of productive labor, the Sages ruled that “a person is obligated to teach his son a trade” (Kiddushin 29a). Moreover, the Mechilta of Rabbi Yishmael presents this obligation as biblical in nature: “From the Torah, a person is obligated to circumcise his son, redeem him, teach him Torah, teach him a trade, and marry him off.”

Most striking of all is the verse from which this obligation is derived in the Jerusalem Talmud: “Rabbi Yishmael taught: ‘And you shall choose life’ (Deuteronomy 30:19)—this refers to a trade” (Kiddushin 1:7). This is a truly striking interpretation.

It is precisely here, at the loftiest and most exalted moment of covenantal choice, that the Sages locate the principle of derech eretz: choosing life means learning a trade

The full verse reads: “I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse; therefore choose life, that you and your offspring may live.” The continuation defines the choice of life as love of God, obedience to His voice, and cleaving to Him—“for He is your life and the length of your days” (Devarim 30:20). And yet it is precisely here, at the loftiest and most exalted moment of covenantal choice, that the Sages locate the principle of derech eretz: choosing life means learning a trade.

According to Rabbi Yishmael, derech eretz is no marginal concern. It defines the contours of a good and proper life as shaped by engagement with reality. First and foremost, one must choose life—meaning a viable, dignified human existence—and this requires productive work.

Rabbi Yishmael’s instruction in Berachot—“Conduct yourself according to derech eretz” (35b)—establishes that Torah must be integrated into a sound human reality. A person is obligated to live within the world, to follow the natural order of human conduct, and to infuse that reality with Torah: the relationship between Israel and God, and the primacy of a life of mitzvot.

As the Talmud explains, this view became normative halachah. The Shulchan Aruch likewise rules that after prayer and study, “one should then go about his worldly affairs” (Orach Chaim 156:1). In accordance with the Mishnah, a person must conduct himself with derech eretz—that is, engage in productive labor, as is the way of the world.

 

Abstaining from Derech Eretz

Livelihood is only one aspect of derech eretz. At its core, the principle reflects respect for the world itself: for earthly reality, which establishes its own norms, conventions, and codes of proper conduct.

From a young age, we are educated in derech eretz: to treat elders with respect; not to interrupt others; to hold the door for those behind us; to signal thanks to a driver who stops at a crosswalk; to use cutlery properly (and to arrange it neatly on the plate afterward); and so on. These, together with a rich array of everyday behaviors, constitute one dimension of derech eretz.

Our speech, too, is suffused with derech eretz. One should not shout or make a disturbance in public spaces. When meeting another person, one asks after his well-being; when asked in return, one responds briefly. One uses clean language or softened expressions—what English calls euphemisms. Instead of saying that someone died, one says “he passed away” or speaks of a “stillbirth”; instead of detailing acts of violence, one speaks of harassment or harm; instead of “retardation” or “disability,” one says “special needs.”

What unites these diverse forms of derech eretz? What links earning one’s livelihood with eating using a knife and fork?

It seems that at their core lies a basic sense of self-respect, which English terms dignity. As the Sages emphasize, dependence on others is inherently degrading; every person should benefit from the labor of his own hands. The same applies across the spectrum of derech eretz: appropriate dress, dignified eating, restrained behavior—all preserve human dignity, one’s own and that of others.

At the same time, every place (and every era) has its own form of derech eretz. One cannot automatically adopt the norms of every society one encounters. Ultimately, the conventions of any given culture reflect its foundational values—and these may well conflict with Torah values.

This explains the suspicion characteristic of Orthodox Judaism—and today especially of Haredi society—toward forms of derech eretz not rooted in Torah and Jewish tradition. To adopt them wholesale risks drifting away from the Torah and its foundations, in violation of the commandment “You shall not follow their statutes.”

Examples abound. In many cultures, men and women greet one another with handshakes or even kisses, as is customary in France. Should we adopt this practice? Similarly, many cultures prioritize women over men—ladies first—whereas the Talmud views this in a negative light (Eruvin 18b, as cited by the Rambam and Shulchan Aruch). More extreme still, ancient pagan cultures enshrined customs of cruelty and brutality, as among the Romans. Were we to adopt those norms as well?

As a people scattered across the globe, uncritical adoption of local derech eretz threatened the fabric of Jewish life and risked the erasure of Torah itself

It was precisely over this issue that the Hasmoneans fought the Hellenizers, who sought to adopt Greek culture despite its fundamental opposition to Jewish faith. The Book of Esther declares that “their ways differ from those of every nation,” and in a similar fashion, Orthodox communities in post-ghetto Europe resisted the wholesale adoption of gentile norms after emancipation. As a people scattered across the globe, uncritical adoption of local derech eretz threatened the fabric of Jewish life and risked the erasure of Torah itself.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch famously viewed German derech eretz—its emphasis on civility, order, and efficiency—as a blessing rather than a curse, giving rise to the philosophy of Torah im derech eretz. By contrast, Eastern European Orthodoxy continued to disdain local conventions, refusing to speak Russian or adopt gentile customs, and insisting on absolute separation: abstention from derech eretz.

And from here, we arrive at contemporary Haredi society.

 

The Absence of Derech Eretz in the State of Israel

Today’s Haredi culture continues this tradition, such that the “more Haredi” one is—socially, not necessarily religiously—the more one tends to distance oneself from prevailing norms of derech eretz. In the sociological sense, the “most Haredi” individual is thus often the one whose dress is deliberately outlandish or neglected, whose beard is unkempt, who disregards basic hygiene, scorns elementary civility, and flouts laws and safety regulations in various contexts.

These phenomena are well known and need little elaboration.

The problem begins when the absence of derech eretz no longer affects only individuals or insular communities, but spills over into Haredi society as a whole—and into Israel’s public sphere. As interaction between Haredi society and the broader population intensifies, so too does the problematic impact of our own lack of derech eretz—that of significant segments among us.

The problem begins when the absence of derech eretz no longer affects only individuals or insular communities, but spills over into Haredi society as a whole—and into Israel’s public sphere

Despite healthy suspicion toward non-Jewish conventions, many within Haredi society prefer to live in clean environments, in neighborhoods free of illegal construction, within communities governed by basic norms of civility and ethics—not to mention safety regulations that can be life-saving. The Meron disaster still echoes with terrifying force; the tragic recent deaths of two toddlers in a Jerusalem childcare center still demand further clarification.

More gravely, when the absence of derech eretz erupts into the broader public sphere, the consequences can be devastating. A particularly painful example is the recent spate of violent demonstrations and unruly behavior by Haredi youth. As one Haredi driver caught in such a protest told me, “This is youth raised on chutzpah.” This is not merely a lack of derech eretz—it is its inversion. The result is disgrace for the “Torah world,” profound desecration of God’s name, and tragic loss of life.

Out of fear of derech eretz that contradicts the Torah, it seems that parts of our community have forgotten the very principle of derech eretz at its most basic level. Instead of productive labor, idleness is sanctified. Instead of courteous speech, we hear aggression and vulgarity. Instead of the gentleness that once characterized the ben Torah, our conduct has grown violent and insolent. Add a touch of arrogance to the blend—surely, we are bnei Torah that embody the ultimate good—and you have a recipe for trouble.

With Haredi society poised to become a formative force within Israel’s public sphere—the impact is already deeply felt—the implications are far-reaching.

 

Returning to a Torah-Based Derech Eretz

Jewish life is saturated with norms of derech eretz. The Shulchan Aruch rules that one should not don his garment while sitting, but rather insert his head and arms while still lying down, so that upon rising, he is already clothed (Orach Chaim 2:1). It further instructs that one should ensure his clothing is worn properly, without turning the inner side outward.

One must put on the right shoe first, avoid walking with an erect posture, cultivate silence, avoid excessive laughter on the one hand and excessive melancholy on the other, eat meat only in moderation, achieve economic stability, and acquire a home before marriage—among many other directives (Rambam, Hilchot De’ot).

These rulings were formulated centuries ago. Their foundations remain timeless, but their application changes from generation to generation in light of shifting circumstances and needs. What constitutes derech eretz in traffic behavior, crossing streets, hitchhiking, or playing music in public spaces? What are the norms of derech eretz for barbecues in public parks, for modern hygiene, for workplace gatherings, or for demonstrations in city streets?

In all these contexts, one must act with derech eretz. In the absence of a specific Shulchan Aruch, we are obligated to follow accepted norms—so long as they do not contradict Torah values and indeed reinforce them, above all the great principle: “What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow.”

Above all, where safety and danger to life are concerned, one must adhere to rules written in blood—lessons learned through decades of traffic accidents, workplace disasters, structural collapses, fires, and exposure to hazardous materials

Above all, where safety and danger to life are concerned, one must adhere to rules written in blood—lessons learned through decades of traffic accidents, workplace disasters, structural collapses, fires, and exposure to hazardous materials. In such matters, derech eretz is not merely a question of good manners or human dignity; it is a matter of saving lives.

To varying degrees, Haredi Judaism withdrew from the sphere of earthly life, and with that withdrawal came a corresponding erosion of derech eretz. This was not an accident, but a feature—an intentional posture shaped by historical circumstance.

Today, however, as we are rapidly drawn back into the full weight of sovereign, lived reality, we are required to reassess our path. No one seeks a State of Israel conducted like a shtiebel. In truth, we should not even wish for the shtiebel itself to be conducted as a shtiebel. The moment calls for a return to first principles, to the foundations upon which our tradition was formed: “Derech eretz preceded Torah.”