Tzarich Iyun > “Seder Sheni”: Reflections > The Simchat Torah War > Ending the Dialogue of the Deaf: We Need a New Deal

Ending the Dialogue of the Deaf: We Need a New Deal

Most of the Charedi public agree that agreements involving both spiritual-faith elements and material ones must be signed with the full consent of both parties. The exemption agreement for yeshiva students is no different. The current silence is untenable, and a new dialogue and agreement are required.

Kislev 5785 / December 2024

Recently, I had the opportunity to hear a conversation with a mashgiach, a significant Torah figure from a well-regarded Litvish yeshiva. The essence of his remarks was that it is precisely we, the Torah learners, who bear the burden and buckle under it. Where are our brothers who will come and share the burden of sustaining the world with Torah study? Even in the Yated Ne’eman newspaper, an editorial was published some months ago under the headline: “We Are Not the Defectors — They Are the Defectors.” This kind of internal Charedi discourse is not new, but the conditions in which it is conducted are far from what they once were.

How is it possible that we, a large and significant Jewish population, do not take part in this existential battle, which has been raging for over a year? From a practical and concrete standpoint, there is no doubt that these claims have merit

With the ongoing war and its various fronts, the level of criticism directed at the Charedi community by the broader Israeli public — both religious and secular —has steadily increased. How is it possible that we, a large and significant Jewish population, do not take part in this existential battle, which has been raging for over a year? From a practical and concrete standpoint, there is no doubt that these claims have merit. On the other hand, from a Jewish-spiritual perspective, there is also much validity in the mashgiach’s assertion. Yet, the opposing discourses and arguments cannot converge or meet because they do not exist on the same plane. They are not conducted on the same frequency. There is no place, nor any reasonable way, to engage in a conversation that merges lofty spiritual beliefs with practical matters of the Jewish state. This is true even if the state is crowned as “the beginning of the blossoming of our redemption” and certainly if it is merely another secular state (as the established Charedi worldview posits).

Time-honored, valid arguments such as the special role of the Levites or the optimal quantitative ratio between Torah scholars and soldiers in King David’s army are ill-suited to discussions in a Western country that operates on secular, earthly principles. They are more appropriate for an internal yeshiva discourse or for governing a kingdom in the days of the Third Temple, sometime in the future. While operating within a state that is secular in definition and essence, and in the face of large segments of the population that do not share our faith with its nuances, spiritual arguments grounded in the contribution of Torah learners are simply irrelevant.

We have been trained from a young age to navigate both domains simultaneously in peace and harmony. How, then, can we expect a dialogue in these two entirely different dimensions to reach any clarity?

Indeed, we all know how to create this separation between the earthly and the spiritual realms. We have been trained from a young age to navigate both domains simultaneously in peace and harmony. How, then, can we expect a dialogue in these two entirely different dimensions to reach any clarity?  A spiritual and faithful discourse should not serve as a substitute for a practical discourse on the effort required — and yet, I am hearing more and more of such fruitless discussions, blessed with all the characteristics of a dialogue of the deaf.

 

With Whom Is the Agreement Signed?

Most of the Charedi community will concede that agreements involving both spiritual-faithful dimensions and material aspects must be signed with the full consent of both parties — otherwise, (rightful) protests will be forcefully sounded. There is no feasibility for a Yissachar-Zevulun agreement that does not rely on mutual consent from Yissachar to share his “Torah rights” with Zevulun, and vice versa. A “Zevulun” figure is required, one who is ready and willing to pay for the share of Torah in kind — with physical money that contributes to the continued Torah study.

Likewise, if a woman pressures her husband to become the spiritual leader while he is more inclined towards the world of action, a house built on this model will not become a flourishing oasis

Many homes in the Charedi community stand as a testament to the noble model in which the man volunteers to be the spiritual pillar of the household, sitting in the tent of Torah for multiple years while the woman takes on the role of practical and financial minister. It is self-evident that such a household cannot exist in harmony and mutual understanding without consent. When a woman does not internalize the value of this pristine form of Torah study or is unwilling to pay the price and make the sacrifices that such a household demands, her husband will be forced to go out to work and support the family. Alternatively, he will have to take on an active role in managing the home. If he does not, there is no doubt that the proper functioning of the household will be at risk. Likewise, if a woman pressures her husband to become the spiritual leader while he is more inclined towards the world of action, a house built on this model will not become a flourishing oasis.

Every agreement requires the consent of both parties, but the agreement is even more crucial when it involves the extreme division of roles between the physical and the spiritual. These points are simple. On a personal level, I have never felt the need to clarify this obvious principle. But what about the public sphere?

The well-known “Torato Unanuto” (“Torah is his profession”) agreement struck between the Chazon Ish and Ben Gurion in the founding years of the state, was a deal that came into the world with full consent. Given the small number of yeshiva students and the destruction of yeshivas during the Holocaust, there was unanimous agreement among the leadership and the people to exempt Torah students from military service. Unfortunately, this agreement was unraveled long ago for various reasons. The Israeli public is no longer willing, at least during this period, to sign such an agreement with us. We can present countless justifications, some more valid than others, as to why military service is problematic for us — but no matter how justified we are, we will only convince ourselves. And without agreement from the Israeli public, we are in serious trouble.

We can present countless justifications, some more valid than others, as to why military service is problematic for us — but no matter how justified we are, we will only convince ourselves. And without agreement from the Israeli public, we are in serious trouble

Let’s say I own a beautiful apartment that I’m trying to sell: if the prospective buyer does not recognize its value and is unwilling to pay the price I demand, the fact that I am convinced it is beautiful, valuable, and just perfect will not change anything. The apartment will remain mine, and I will not receive its worth.

Similarly, no Charedi person goes to the grocery store and offers to pay for goods with Gemara pages, even though they are more precious than gold and silver. When we engage in agreements of give-and-take at a material level, we are well accustomed to operating solely on that level. We will all take out our wallets and pay our debts with real money, not with chapters of Tehillim or Gemara. Even for the private doctor who will operate on our family member, we will pay graciously and will not propose reducing his fee because, while he performed the surgery, we said Tehillim, sought a blessing from the rabbi or studied Torah. Despite our complete belief that these actions have elevated importance and are critical to the success of the surgery and that the esteemed doctor is but a good messenger, we still owe him deep gratitude and give him his full financial dues. Are these not simple facts?

Or consider a shared housing complex with communal management responsibilities: If the residents of the building agree to exempt their diligent neighbor, the fellow who dwells in the tent of Torah, from involvement in these communal tasks, how beautiful and fitting it is that they work in harmony. However, if not, the dear neighbor will have to choose between internal alternatives: he might choose to temporarily leave the study hall and fulfill his duties, or alternatively, send his wife or one of his children in his place. If such an option is unavailable, he will, reluctantly, have to pay his share to his neighbors (or move to a building without such a requirement). This is the obvious way of the world, this is simple decency, and this is the way of Torah.

The analogy is simple. Regarding military service, which is established in Israeli law as a universal obligation for all citizens, we must try to convince the general public of the importance of the service we provide in our Torah study and religious devotion. As long as we have failed to do so, and until we reach an agreement that this spiritual contribution will serve as an alternative to the general conscription obligation, it is impossible to operate in harmony, especially in a long war such as this, without inciting enormous anger from other sectors who do serve.

 

Ending the Deafening Silence

In my humble opinion, if we want to live in this country with fairness and without inciting anger and hatred, we must find our way to make a physical contribution, choosing the least spiritually dangerous track and least opposed to our values. We must emulate the wise approach found in many Kollel families, which function economically as an independent unit, like any other family. They manage their responsibility for providing family sustenance, their risk management, and decisions regarding who will work and where, within the home. If the couple values the man’s remaining in the tent of Torah, they will agree, mutually, that the woman will enter the workforce, despite the spiritual risks and practical difficulties this entails, despite certain harm it will cause to time spent with the children and the everyday functioning of the home. This is what wise decision-making looks like, based on internal priorities. Options and their costs are evaluated, and choices are made accordingly. I believe we must operate on the public level in the same manner.

The public Charedi silence is misplaced. It is akin to the selective, violent silence sometimes found in relationships, when one partner expresses an inner turmoil and the other chooses silence

With fear and trepidation, I volunteer in these words to speak for thousands of people sitting in their homes, bewildered by a discourse that is increasingly becoming a dialogue of the deaf. It is time for another kind of discourse, a discourse of souls and brothers, one that speaks on matching frequencies. The deafening silence that permeates the Charedi public sphere conceals the storm raging behind closed doors, at family Shabbat tables, in WhatsApp groups, and in multiple forums. The public Charedi silence is misplaced. It is akin to the selective, violent silence sometimes found in relationships, when one partner expresses an inner turmoil and the other chooses silence. This is not a noble silence but a violent one, ignoring deep, eruptive pain expressed by the other partner.

In recent weeks, I have encountered considerable anger, particularly from people who belong to communities that have walked hand in hand with us for a long time, people who share a deep alignment with us on numerous important issues. One tends to feel anger toward those closest to him. The closer the person is, the more profound the hurt and anger when their behavior appears to reveal indifference and alienation. To the inciters of division and hatred, we owe no answers. However, as Jews who fear God and are bound to one another, we are called upon to act and engage in sincere dialogue with the tears and discontent of other Torah communities.

Deep within, we know ourselves to be lovers of Torah, steadfast in our devotion to it until our last breath. Yet, at the same time, we are emotionally invested in this struggle, this battle for existence, alongside all of Israel. We are not estranged, indifferent, or selfish individuals. Quite the opposite. Many of us feel the pain of each fallen soldier deeply, from the soul itself. We are deeply connected to the heartbeat of this people, who, like in a historical ritual preordained, are persecuted and forced to fight for their very survival. Our deafening silence in the face of this pain, though born from the immense difficulty of articulating our perspective, is publicly perceived as a terrible severance—indifference and alienation, God forbid. It is seen as a defensive retreat that fails to consider the suffering and tears of others.

Were we living in Russia, say, amidst a sea of indifferent gentiles, this may have been a sensible strategy: to withdraw quietly and wait for the storm to pass. But we dwell among our own people. The present strategy will exact a heavy price on our ability to maintain ties with our brothers and sisters and certainly on our capacity to impart and embody the teachings of the Torah of life that we cherish.

It is unworthy for leadership to hide behind deafening silence in an ivory tower, leaving the public exposed to harsh criticism and a discourse that leaves no room for engagement because it unfolds on entirely disconnected planes

Beyond the fact that silence is not a sound public strategy, it also places us, those in the field, in the impossible position of confronting this bombshell within our families, friendships, and workplaces. The Charedi and Religious Zionist communities are deeply intertwined. We encounter and interact with one another in all existing spheres of relationship. It is unworthy for leadership to hide behind deafening silence in an ivory tower, leaving the public exposed to harsh criticism and a discourse that leaves no room for engagement because it unfolds on entirely disconnected planes.

***

It is precisely because I hold Torah scholars in the highest esteem and wish to protect them with all my might, alongside my awe for the immense sacrifice of our incredible and righteous soldiers and a clear understanding that there is no way forward other than consensus, that I feel compelled to commit these simple thoughts to paper. I wonder if the events of October 7th, which we all endured, were placed before us just to shake up the secular residents of kibbutzim’; it stands to reason then were also aimed at us. Perhaps everything happening surrounding the enlistment law, particularly under the watch of the “dream coalition” of the Charedi parties, is not happening without reason. Perhaps we need to stop viewing the broken vessels we stand before as just an unfortunate collection of circumstances but rather as a deliberate move from Above, aimed at refining our place within the broader nation of Israel.

 

 

2 thoughts on “Ending the Dialogue of the Deaf: We Need a New Deal

  • Amazing and from the heart

  • Haredi husbands are free (to the extent they even have free will) to be dependent on their wives who (assuming they have free will) choose to be the family breadwinners. However what they are not free to do (ethically and morally) is to be dependent on the rest of us not only for a large part of their material and medical sustenance, but, more importantly, for 100% of their safety and security. Haredim have the right to be moser nefesh for their idea of Torah. However, they have no right to force us to be moser nefesh in order to support their habits.

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