Charedi IDF Service: It’s up to Us

Although many harrowing months have passed, we all recall the social turmoil that engulfed Israel in the period before the war. The government, supported by a majority vote, tried to pass sweeping reforms curtailing the powers of Israel’s all-powerful Supreme Court. The move stirred the sleeping giant of Israel’s left-wing elites, who mustered all their power and resources to thwart the move in defense of the Jewish State’s fragile democracy.

Charedi politicians and newspapers, grateful for a nemesis on which to focus resistance, voiced a solitary outcry against the court’s insolence. The rest […] remained silent

October 7th suspended the infighting in favor of war against our bitter enemies. But when the Supreme Court weighed in on the delicate social issue of Charedi conscription, threatening the demise of a flimsy coalition by ruling that every Charedi boy must enlist, it would have only been natural to expect a backlash. But it never came. Charedi politicians and newspapers, grateful for a nemesis on which to focus resistance, voiced a solitary outcry against the court’s insolence. The rest, even those who obviously disagreed with the court’s abuse of power, remained silent.

Because this time, it’s not about the court.

Where Are We?

Long months of war have brought hardship alongside heroism. Many hundreds have lost their lives in battle. Many thousands have been seriously injured. Countless families have experienced the bitter anguish and sleepless nights of fathers or sons (and often both) being away for months at a time. Some have crumbled under the strain, and many have resorted to psychological therapy and medication to treat the symptoms—bedwetting, insomnia, attention deficit, depression—of ongoing anxiety.

These are not theoretical cases. I know several personally. I have spoken with parents, children, and wives, strong in spirit even as they suffer the harsh realities of war. I have visited young widows, so proud and sad, whose children will never know their father. Some soldiers are profound Torah scholars, utilizing every free moment for Torah study even as they risk life and limb to defend us. They pray, make siyumim upon completing Talmudic tractates, pay attention to every halachic stricture, and fight with courage and valor.

These, and many like them, are not enemies. Anything but. They love the Torah and its talmidim with all their hearts. Yet, they look upon Charedi society with confusion and frustration, asking a simple question: Where are you?

These, and many like them, are not enemies. Anything but. They love the Torah and its talmidim with all their hearts. Yet, they look upon Charedi society with confusion and frustration, asking a simple question: Where are you? Where is your sense of brotherhood, partnership, and shared responsibility? These are not ignoramuses burning with an insatiable hatred of Torah scholars, as some apologists want us to believe. After sacrificing so much on our behalf in the current war, their argument deserves to be heard.

So, let’s ask ourselves the same question: Where, indeed, are we? How do we withstand the claim of “Shall your brothers come to war while you remain here?” (Bamidbar 32:6). In all sincerity, we first need to concede the honest truth: it’s not about Torah study, and it’s not about the concern for our spiritual wellbeing. We often band these claims around, and they are not empty assertions. Yet, they are not the reason why we avoid the draft.

Charedi ≠ Israeli

To somewhat elaborate, it isn’t about Torah study because there are literally thousands of Charedi boys who are not engaged in full-time (and barely part-time) Torah study yet escape army service by enrolment in a “yeshiva” institution that allows them to work, study, or engage in other activities. The very raison d’être of such institutions is evading the draft. Recently published figures demonstrate that surprisingly high numbers of registered yeshiva students are at work on the books, not to speak of those doing so off the books. To simplify matters, let’s limit the conversation to these several thousand young men: are we ready for them to enlist?

And it isn’t about the spiritual condition of boys, either. In fact, for many of them, army service would only enhance their spiritual level. First, they would become functional and productive, waking up early for davening by military order, combining daily Torah study with rigorous training, and attaining achievements and a sense of fulfillment. Second, the army, post-October 7th, is prepared to go even further than the current Netzach Yehudah arrangements and plans to establish a Charedi brigade that will function under the watchful guidance of a civilian, rabbinic organization that will ensure Charedi standards are strictly enforced. And third, warnings about boys going “off the derech” remain speculative. Religious Zionism has made huge progress over the years with the formation of religious units and the rise of high-ranking religious soldiers. A significant distance remains, and the IDF has a way to go toward building trust with Charedi society, but if we don’t try – and we have never made concerted and proactive attempts – we’ll never know.

Is it possible to look Israel in the eye and not realize that military service is also a necessity, no less and probably far more than necessities for which we are ready to take risks?

In addition to these arguments, we all engage in a variety of activities and pursuits that involve a fear of spiritual decline – from kiruv work among non-religious Jews to jobs in workplaces far from Charedi enclaves. Despite the concern inherent in such activities, we are prepared to perform them because we perceive them as a need, whether public (in the case of kiruv rechokim) or private (in the case of employment), and try to assuage the attendant concerns through educational and practical measures. Is it possible to look Israel in the eye and not realize that military service is also a necessity, no less and probably far more than necessities for which we are ready to take risks?

To tell the truth, there is one uncomplicated reason why Charedi boys don’t serve in the army: We don’t serve because we are Charedi. It’s really as simple as that. All the rest, the voluminous and generally unpersuasive apologetics printed and published in pamphlets and magazines, are commentary, footnotes to the equation Charedi ≠ Israeli whose inescapable outcome is that Charedim do not serve in the IDF.

For multiple decades, the Charedi-rabbinic establishment rallied against Zionism. Despite these attacks, including promises that the movement was doomed to end in tragedy and disillusionment, Zionism succeeded. It managed to establish a modern and efficient state, to ingather millions from the Jewish diaspora, and even to facilitate the establishment of the largest Torah center the world has (probably) ever seen. It is hard for us, for Charedim, to contain Israel, to wrap our heads around its secularism and its success, to consider its messianic dimensions. On trips to Israel, diaspora Charedim will often reference Eretz Yisrael rather than Isarel. As the miraculous realization of Zionism, Israel gives Charedim a headache.

Over generations, we have therefore told ourselves the story that Israel is “them” and not “us,” that we have a different and distinct story, a Jewish rather than an Israeli one. This differentiation cannot go hand in hand with army service. Army service implies a deep Israeli identity, almost by definition. And Israeli identity alarms us for fear that boys will be lost to Charedi society – not to secularism, but simply to being Israeli, which negates being Charedi.

On this matter, however, I want to make three short and important points.

A Stain on Judaism

First, many Charedim have already adopted a strong Israeli identity. Returning from their Bais Yaakov high schools, my daughters’ antiquated MP3 players are full of modern Israeli music. MBD, out; Hanan Ben Ari, in! This joins many other phenomena that testify to young Charedim’s strong identification with Israel. The passage of time, the sheer size of Charedi society, and the Internet age that has rendered community walls porous and absorbent have made us (and especially our youth) much more Israeli than we like to concede. Army service, of course, takes this identity to another level, but let’s not pretend we aren’t what we are.

Second, at a time when the entire world knows that anti-Israel (or anti-Zionism) is simply the modern version of antisemitism, perhaps it’s also time for us to get over our Israel phobia. Even if Israel’s “ingathering in disbelief” continues to present a theological conundrum, can we not recognize that if millions of Jews reside in the land promised to Avraham, this means that we ought to get involved? Is there much about Israel that needs major improvement? Sure! But by contrast with 1948, today, we boast a strong and confident society deeply imbued with Torah values. If we set ourselves on the great task ahead, we can surely bring tremendous elevation and kedushah to every aspect of the Jewish State – including the army.

If we set ourselves on the great task ahead, we can surely bring tremendous elevation and kedushah to every aspect of the Jewish State – including the army

And third, we need to make an urgent reappraisal of the cost-benefit of abstaining from army service. Post October 7, it seems the cost – not only to Israel’s social fabric but even to Judaism itself, to the sanctifying or its opposite, chalilah, of Hashem’s Name – has become excessive, exorbitant, inordinate. Our primary responsibility is to Judaism rather than Charedi’ism. As representatives of Torah Judaism, the scorn and derision hurled at us for our refusal to rethink our position, not by our traditional rivals on the secular left but even by traditional and religious friends, reflects on Judaism itself.

In these very days and weeks, large Charedi groups, including major Chasidic communities, have decided to switch to the Charedi-State (Mamah) educational system. In other words, the financial woes that Charedi school networks have recently experienced are enough to overcome the fear of giving “Israeliness” a foothold in transitioning institutions to a state education model. Other Charedi groups have strongly critiqued the move, and I do not mean to weigh in on the issue but only to point out that the stakes of military service are far higher than budgetary concerns. The moral stain on the fabric of Charedi society will be hard to cleanse. Whether we like it or not, a stain on us is also a stain on Judaism.

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For the great majority of Israel, no demand has been voiced that every Charedi boy should enlist in the IDF. At a time when we urgently need more boots on the ground, when both regular and reserve duty is set to be augmented, Israel expects us to participate – to acknowledge we’re part of the story, brothers in arms. We need to be at funerals, at shiva calls, at volunteer centers, and at Chesed organizations. But we also need to be in the army, sharing privilege and burden alike.

The place to begin is with those boys who are not engaged in Torah study. They are not dropouts. They are great boys who can attain high achievements, and there is no justification to keep them out of the army

The place to begin is with those boys who are not engaged in Torah study. They are not dropouts. They are great boys who can attain high achievements, and there is no justification to keep them out of the army. Indeed, many Gedolim of previous generations said that those who are not full-time learners must enlist in the army, and refraining from doing so endangers the entire Torah world (see my previous article on this for citations). How prescient.

True, there is a minority voice, sounded most forcefully by Israel’s Supreme Court, that demands absolute equality. But as noted above, it isn’t about the court. It’s about us. Or, to paraphrase R. Elazar b. Durdaya, “The matter depends solely on us.”

Photo: Netzach Yehuda