The Labor Pains of Charedi IDF Service

The following is an approximate translation of a song that was popular twenty-five years ago on the Charedi street:

He had a Torah home, a family blessed and kind,
A wife, sweet children, hearts so pure, aligned.
That summer, they had dreams they longed to chase—
A course in tech; he smiled and gave them grace.

Two months passed by, the screen now lit their days,
A caring dad was he, gentle in his ways.
But barely had the second sunset died—
And no one saw him. No one turned or tried.

In the late 1990s, as computers began making their slow and tentative entry into Charedi homes, a wave of panic spread through the Charedi public. The song above was part of a broader campaign against the growing presence of computers in the Charedi household.

The question was no longer whether a computer existed in the house, as in the olden days. Today, it was assumed that every Charedi home had one and that every computer was connected to the internet

Over two decades have passed since then. Recently, a friend of mine enrolled her daughter in one of the most prestigious seminaries (high schools) in Jerusalem. When signing the school regulations, she shared, the parents were required to present documentation attesting to the level of internet filtering used in their home. The question was no longer whether a computer existed in the house, as in the olden days. Today, it was assumed that every Charedi home had one and that every computer was connected to the internet. The only remaining question was the degree of filtering in place.

It is no secret that seminary girls regularly use email for correspondence; that educational institutions place orders on AliExpress; and that teachers exchange recommended teaching materials across various websites. Who says nothing changes in the Charedi space?

 

Changing Trends

Charedi society is characterized by conservatism. The very term ‘Charedim’ implies caution and fear of external influence. This conservatism has deep roots and multiple sources, and the community has traditionally made great efforts to surround itself with protective walls—barriers designed to shield it from foreign winds. By and large, this has been a success story. Thanks to these barriers, our boys and girls are mostly preoccupied with their studies and social lives, not with uploading ‘stories’ to social media every spare moment of the day. Our children ride bicycles and play in courtyards rather than gazing incessantly at screens.

And yet, alongside this success in curbing smartphone use among the younger generation, a difficult question arises: Do these walls truly preserve the spiritual flame among our youth? Is safeguarding the status quo enough to ensure the spiritual, ethical, and social flourishing of the community?

The example of the computer is but one instance of fierce opposition in the early stages that gradually gave way to a kind of silent acquiescence. The same holds true for the Internet. According to the 2024 Statistical Report on Charedi Society in Israel, there has been a dramatic rise in internet usage among Charedim, climbing from 28% in 2008-2009 to 70% in 2022-2023. In other words, despite near-total opposition within the community, there has been a significant increase in Internet use among both Charedi men and women.[1]

The same can be said for the matriculation exams (bagrut). Over the years, there has been a substantial rise in the number of Charedi students taking at least one matriculation exam, even if they do not qualify for a full certificate. The rise, from approximately 24% in 2008-2009 to 45% in 2021-2022, was driven mainly by Charedi girls, such that the overwhelming majority of Charedi girls today take at least one bagrut exam.[2]

We find the same trend concerning academic education: In 2003, the number of Charedi students pursuing a bachelor’s degree stood at just 3,575. Today, the number has reached 14,332.[3] Naturally enough, 69% of all Charedi students in institutions of higher education are women, despite persistent efforts by seminaries and rabbinic leadership to prevent seminary graduates from pursuing academic studies.

How can we explain these de facto transformations within our own communities? How does the trajectory move from staunch resistance to external ideas and products to eventual acceptance

How can we explain these de facto transformations within our own communities? How does the trajectory move from staunch resistance to external ideas and products to eventual acceptance, if only partially? In what way can we understand these trends, which begin with sweeping prohibitions and end with the adoption of the very behaviors once banned?

 

Resistance as a Stage of Birth

At the start of last winter, I visited the Dead Sea. I entered the salty water and noticed something curious. My legs, submerged beneath the surface, did not feel cold. Nor did I feel chilled in my head and upper body, which remained entirely above water. But at the waistline—the boundary between water and air—a battle was taking place. One moment hot, the next cold.

Stern-faced teachers would send home rebellious students who dared to adopt this fashion. And today? No one bats an eyelid

I tried to make sense of the sensation, and from this encounter in the Dead Sea, I was able to glean, in some small way, insight into the trends within our own communities. Charedi society is deeply conservative. Any new change or product is met with sweeping resistance. I recall, during my high school years, the fierce opposition to flat shoes. Yes, yes—some younger readers may raise an eyebrow in disbelief, but women approaching forty will surely remember the arrival of a new trend: flat shoes, nicknamed “pita shoes.” Stern-faced teachers would send home rebellious students who dared to adopt this fashion. And today? No one bats an eyelid. Pita shoes are now part of the seminary teacher dress code. No one objects to them anymore.

A friend of mine told me that this past year, she found herself corresponding via email with the secretariat of her son’s Talmud Torah and her daughter’s seminary—both well-established, mainstream institutions in Jerusalem. Email correspondence between educational institutions and parents signifies the adoption of not one but two former subjects of fierce resistance in the Charedi world: the computer and the Internet.

In most instances, this resistance eventually ends not with a bang but with a whimper: silent acquiescence, followed by partial adoption of the very thing that was once so vehemently opposed

As noted, the almost instinctive reaction of rabbinic leaders and their emissaries—including educational institutions—is sweeping opposition to any new external influence in the spirit of “anything new is forbidden by the Torah.” Conferences will be organized, regulations revised, songs written—and in some cases, even protests held in the streets. And yet, in most instances (though not all), this resistance eventually ends not with a bang but with a whimper: silent acquiescence, followed by partial—and sometimes full—adoption of the very thing that was once so vehemently opposed.

Resistance takes place at the point of contact when the ‘foreign wind’ is still new within the camp. At that stage, it is met with unequivocal and collective resistance. But once the wind enters, new coping mechanisms are born, new frameworks emerge to address the changing reality—and the war begins to subside.

This resistance phenomenon during the destabilizing entrance of something new is familiar to us from human development. Birth, the passage from pregnancy to infancy, is accompanied by great pain. We are also familiar with the phenomenon of the ‘terrible twos’—the transition from infancy to early childhood, during which the toddler seeks to define himself, resists everything, and insists on asserting his will. A similar phenomenon exists in adolescence: the shift from childhood to young adulthood.

Every transition between stages—even when it marks growth or progress—is accompanied by pain and the need to recalibrate the system. But it’s crucial to remember that this challenge is temporary. The disorientation, the fear, the pressure to find a new equilibrium—they are real, but they pass. Pain invites us to grow.

My claim is that resistance is not only natural but necessary for a community undergoing change

My claim is that resistance is not only natural but necessary for a community undergoing change. It serves as a vital stage in recalibration. But in truth, it is only the first step to adaptation, accommodation, and even, in time, acceptance of the very thing it sought to repel.

 

Each Generation and Its Tools

Throughout history, the great leaders of each generation transmitted Jewish tradition through vessels suited to their time. A clear example of this is the leadership model of Rabbi Yisrael Baal Shem Tov, founder of the Hasidic movement. The Baal Shem Tov observed the spiritual decline of his era and introduced remarkable innovations tailored to the needs of his generation. He emphasized attachment to God as something accessible to every person and in every place—not solely reserved for Torah scholars. He elevated devotional experience above intellectual mastery (unlike the Maimonidean path), and he broke down the dichotomy between sacred and secular by introducing a unique blend of “In all your ways, know Him.”[4]

In truth, the Baal Shem Tov and his disciples presented a new model of Jewish life, born out of their deep understanding of the generation and what it needed to reconnect with our Father in Heaven.

Another compelling example is Sarah Schenirer, the visionary founder of the Beit Yaakov movement and the initiator of formal Charedi education for girls. Schenirer saw the decline in religious commitment among the young women of her generation. Many Jewish girls were attending non-Jewish schools and drifting away from their faith. (In Kraków alone, during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, some 400 Jewish girls converted to Christianity.)[5]

At first, Schenirer’s proposal to establish a Jewish educational institution for girls was met with fierce resistance. Rabbinic authorities in Hungary and beyond strongly opposed her initiative.[6] The Minchas Elazar of Munkacs even referred to the school network as “the house of Esau.”[7] And yet, over time, her vision gained rabbinic recognition, and today Sarah Schenirer is universally honored as the founder of a blessed and influential educational revolution.

What did the Baal Shem Tov do? What did Sarah Schenirer do? Both looked deeply at the condition of their generation, recognized that the tools of the previous era no longer sufficed, and acted accordingly

What did the Baal Shem Tov do? What did Sarah Schenirer do? Both looked deeply at the condition of their generation, recognized that the tools of the previous era no longer sufficed, and acted accordingly. It is crucial to remember that both faced intense opposition in their early days. The creation of a new Jewish model posed a direct challenge to established leaders and traditions. Yet, in hindsight, their paths were embraced by the Jewish public and are now considered respected, even celebrated, components of mainstream Jewish life.

Jewish history has not only seen innovation in matters of social leadership and communal frameworks. For generations, Torah scholars have engaged in halachic debate and creative legal reasoning to address the challenges of their time. The great sages of each era examined new realities and worked to provide halachic responses, sometimes original and groundbreaking, capable of reconciling enduring Torah values with evolving societal needs.

A good example is the pruzbul, a legal mechanism instituted by Hillel the Elder to overcome the reluctance to lend money before the Shemittah year. Another is the sale of chametz to a non-Jew before Pesach. These were not acts of legal laxity, but careful reframing of halachic principles to permit, under strict conditions, what the Torah had otherwise prohibited. The Jewish legal tradition has never remained frozen in time. Often, what was banned in a previous era has, through halachic development, become permissible (and even desirable) in a later one.

With great humility and from a place of deep connection to Torah and Jewish tradition, I would like to suggest that this is the lens through which we should approach the question of Charedi military enlistment.

Allow me to explain.

 

The Charedi Challenge and the Military Need

Throughout Jewish history, the majority of Jews worked for a living, even as they remained devoted to Torah study.[8] The concept of a “society of learners” is a relatively new model, developed in Israel in the early 1950s. What began as a small group of ascetic Torah scholars has, over time, become the standard model for the Charedi (Litvish) world.

But is this model supposed to be eternal? Are we to assume that from now until the coming of the Messiah, the destiny of all Charedi young men is to sit and study Torah exclusively? Reality suggests otherwise. Whereas in the past, a Charedi youth who left the yeshiva was seen as having cast off the yoke of Torah and mitzvot, today we witness a growing phenomenon of God-fearing, observant Charedi young men who are active in the workforce, enrolled in institutions of higher education (or in designated programs like Kodkod), and working in a range of professional fields. Not everyone sits and studies Torah all day. The yeshiva world no longer serves as the same impermeable defense against outside influence that it once did.

Perhaps the time has come for a new Baal Shem Tov, or a modern-day Sarah Schenirer, to rise with clear-eyed vision and build a renewed framework, one capable of addressing the spiritual and societal challenges we now face

Given this shift, what model can our generation offer to a young man who does not find his place within the four cubits of halacha? What will be his anchor—his way of preserving a vibrant Jewish identity and remaining a meaningful part of the eternal Jewish people? Even if the ‘Noah’s ark for all’ model was a necessary response to the post-Shoah crisis, we must nonetheless ask: does it still serve the needs of today’s youth? Does it continue to offer a deep and lasting connection to God and His Torah? Perhaps the time has come for a new Baal Shem Tov, or a modern-day Sarah Schenirer, to rise with clear-eyed vision and build a renewed framework, one capable of addressing the spiritual and societal challenges we now face.

Indeed, there may be a meaningful alignment between two present-day needs: the growing need among Charedi youth for a stronger, more relevant Jewish identity and the national need to increase the ranks of active-duty soldiers.[9]

I am not blind to the discomfort (if not outright resistance) that these words may provoke in certain readers. And yet, we must ask ourselves: how would we have responded had we been present when Hillel the Elder instituted the prusbul, or when Sarah Schenirer introduced her revolutionary idea to found a school for Jewish girls aimed at providing them with structured education? It is likely that both Hillel and Schenirer would have faced intense resistance, even public condemnation.[10] Posters and proclamations would have denounced their initiatives in harsh terms. This resistance would not necessarily have stemmed from deep-seated ideological opposition, but rather from a broader characteristic of the Charedi world: our instinctive resistance to change.

Such was the case with computers, with the internet, with academia, with shifting fashions—and such is the case today with the idea of a Charedi military unit. We are Charedim: we worry, we fear, and we resist.

In this regard, it is worth reflecting deeply on the words of Rabbi Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, the Seridei Eish:

Merely opposing secular education is not enough,” argued R. Yisrael Salanter. “A new spiritual movement, by its very nature, seeps through cracks and gaps. The battle against it using bans and prohibitions will not succeed, for one cannot imprison a spirit through force alone. Suppressing a spiritual drive, in and of itself, brings more loss than gain. The only true defense against the danger of a foreign ideological movement is to give rise to a spiritual alternative—a living, fresh stream of thought flowing from the depths of the Jewish soul.[11]

The great leaders of Israel throughout the generations did not rest on inherited formulas. They looked directly at the condition of their generation, recognized the new challenges that had not existed in the past, and developed new frameworks and tools in response.

There is no doubt that we are living in a historic moment. Many young men no longer find meaning in the yeshiva benches. The army is in urgent need of reinforcement. Quietly, many yeshiva students are looking for ways to contribute to the survival of the Jewish people. In such a situation, a campaign of bans and prohibitions against Charedi enlistment will not succeed—as the Seridei Eish warned.

We must engage this issue seriously and find halachic and societal solutions—ways to chart a new path in the service of God, to respond meaningfully to the spiritual needs of today’s generation. Where is the leader who will listen to the murmurings of the younger generation, to their longing for a renewed ideology, and will have the courage to build a new model—just as the Baal Shem Tov and Sarah Schenirer once did?

Yes, such a path will be met with loud resistance, as is the case with every new idea that knocks on our door. But there can be little doubt: we are already in the throes of labor.

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[1] The Israel Democracy Institute, The Haredi Society in Israel – Annual Report 2024: https://www.idi.org.il/haredi/2024/?chapter=57496.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Dr. Biti Roi, Key Conceptual Foundations in Hasidic Thought, Kogod Center for Jewish Thought and Contemporary Philosophy, Shalom Hartman Institute.

[5] Rachel Manekin, Something Entirely New: The Development of the Idea of Religious Education for Girls in the Modern Era, Masekhet, 2004.

[6] See: Pearl Benisch, Carry Me in Your Heart, Feldheim, 2006.

[7] Prof. Naomi Seidman, Sarah Schenirer and the Bais Yaakov Movement: A Revolution in the Name of Tradition.

[8] “Israeli Society and the Society of Learners” – Roundtable Discussion, Shalom Hartman Institute website.

[9] Yossi Yehoshua, “The IDF Demands 7,000 Additional Soldiers Immediately: ‘This Is Not Politics—We Need a Large Army,’” Ynet, February 23, 2025.

[10] See Sotah 3:4. This source presents the traditional argument against Torah study for women. However, it seems that in recent generations, this position has softened, as Jewish girls today are widely engaged in Torah learning.

[11] Rabbi Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, in his essay “Rabbi Yisrael Salanter” in the book Lefrakim.