The New Civic Awareness of Charedi Women

“After the outbreak of the ‘Iron Swords’ war, the main question asked by thousands of Charedi women was: ‘How can we help and contribute?’ Within some 30 hours, over 1,500 motivated women joined the ‘Iron Sisters’ initiative with a desire to lend a hand” (From the “Iron Sisters” website).

The volunteer project “Iron Sisters” was established by Charedi women who wished to assist their sisters affected by the war. The initiative, boasting over 2,000 volunteers, reflects Jewish solidarity among thousands of Charedi women. These women chose to be part of the support network proactively and thus joined the Jewish nation in fighting for its political independence. In addition to this project, organizations abound of Charedi women choosing to assist in one way or another. These organizations range from the “laundry brigade” (volunteering to do laundry for evacuees from the north and south) to those with fixed places on Mount Herzl under the weeping willows.

I argue with reservation that in addition to the genuine desire to assist the people of Israel in their time of need, there is an additional motivation that drives the support and volunteering networks: to be part of the Jewish-Israeli collective

We have no x-ray machine capable of revealing the motivational factors that move hearts and minds. However, with caution and much reservation, I would like to discuss the phenomenon of Charedi volunteering through my personal experience or what I have learned from others. Following this, I will provide a sociological explanation for this volunteering phenomenon, which makes no claim to speak for all but conveys a certain voice, one that some might identify with and find interesting. I argue with reservation that in addition to the genuine desire to assist the people of Israel in their time of need, there is an additional motivation that drives the support and volunteering networks: to be part of the Jewish-Israeli collective.

Taking Part In What?

The motivation “taking part,” lihiyot helek, arose within me when, in one of the early days of the war, a colleague approached me at work. Nothing felt normal for her, and she asked me if I could share the sentiment: Was I simply living “normally”? Her husband was serving in the north, and she was caring for two young children. Feeling distressed, she found temporary shelter at her parents’ home. Her question called me to order and demanded a response. It required me to decide: do I enlist in the effort to be part of the collective fighting for a grand idea in which I believe, or do I abstain? Should I assist on a technical level alone or allow myself to become involvement in a deeper and more connected place?

Questions like these and others have repeatedly confronted me with the necessary balance between separation and integration—between the desire to be a part of something larger that transcends the boundaries of sectarian belonging and the need to remain separate to protect what is important to me. Following this, I wondered if there could be any perspective that examines the relationship between Charedim and Israeli society solely from an ideological standpoint.

Women who volunteered to establish and participate in multiple initiatives during this war are motivated, of course, by the idea of chesed. Our education primes us for performing acts of kindness, proudly bearing the crown of Ruth, who paid a high price for her kindness. The proliferation of charity organizations in the Charedi sector and the genuine desire to contribute have created countless chesed opportunities. Charedi high school girls ending their week in camps of Ezra Le’marpeh or some housing complex of Alei Siach is an all too common phenomenon.

Conventional volunteering in the Charedi sector does not carry any civic tone. It is disconnected from the political arena and is neither obligatory nor institutionalized

Conventional volunteering in the Charedi sector does not carry any civic tone. It is disconnected from the political arena and is neither obligatory nor institutionalized. Volunteering operates in parallel with the education system; it is not integrated within it. The nature of volunteering is not shaped in the corridors of the Knesset, nor has it been brought up for discussion with public leaders. Volunteering is perceived as a social contribution rather than a civic duty.

As such, those whose voluntary work is outside of some formal volunteer framework might experience a sense of “civic debt” that remains unpaid. I encountered this with one acquaintance who is very involved in acts of kindness outside any official volunteer project and system. She told me about the discomfort she feels when going to console the families of fallen soldiers. “In the end, I sleep better without worrying about my husband’s or son’s fate,” she told me. She held herself without regard for the many acts of kindness she was occupied with.

In this context, it is essential to note the correlation between Charedi conservatism and a person’s sense of civic duty. The Charedi education system does not speak in terms of civic duty but rather in terms of communal responsibility. The isolationist impulse, which remains a cornerstone of Charedi being, is in tension with civic engagement. Consequently, the sense of civic duty often develops outside the walls of the Charedi “seminary” (high school). Several factors affect this, including the atmosphere at home and the level of involvement in a non-Charedi workforce.

Charedi Women: Still in Isolation?

I have elaborated in the past on the involvement of young women in the workforce and its effects on Charedi isolationism (“The strange trap of seminary education”). On the one hand, girls are educated to see isolationism as a strategic necessity for protecting the values we hold, dearest. On the other, they are encouraged to enter the workforce in positions that extend far outside the community boundaries. Indeed, Charedi women today are an integral part of the driving forces of the Israeli economy. You’ll find them on Google campus and in research labs at Hadassah. So deeply have they become integrated that it no longer raises eyebrows – just like meeting an Arab doctor no longer comes as a surprise.

“This situation created great embarrassment for me,” my friend shared. “Just moments before, I actively participated in the family group discussion planning our family Chanukah party. Nobody in my family had been drafted, and the party was planned as usual. What a shameful disparity.”

A friend shared that she encountered a colleague crying in the coffee room one day during Chanukah. The colleague explained that she was spending the holiday alone because her husband wasn’t released from the army, and she had no family in the country. A lone soldier, in military parlance, alongside a lone woman. “This situation created great embarrassment for me,” my friend shared. “Just moments before, I actively participated in the family group discussion planning our family Chanukah party. Nobody in my family had been drafted, and the party was planned as usual. What a shameful disparity.”

This embarrassing incident exposes cracks in the isolationist perception created by the reality of Charedi women working in settings outside the community. When you encounter a work colleague feeling the pain of loneliness while you are embraced in the arms of extended family, the moral question becomes impossible to ignore. And these encounters take place daily. We share coffee rooms with those who voted for non-Charedi parties, work shoulder to shoulder with settlers from the Shomron, and manage mixed teams of supporters and opponents of the judicial reform. All of these provide genuine and open encounters with Israeli society, reigniting questions concerning the appropriate degree of isolation from the collective state.

A friend of mine testified to the emotional need she felt to allocate a significant portion of her salary for the benefit of a colleague who single-handedly cares for her two children and was forced to cut back her work hours. “The fact that she alone sacrificed herself for our common goal seemed absurd. We share the duty to protect the country,” she said. Being deeply involved at work while disengaging from the civic framework just doesn’t work.

Responding to the Charedi Paradox

When discussing the principle of isolationism, it is essential to remember that it was not created in a vacuum. It relies on a sober understanding of the space in which we live and is designed to ensure that our way of life, which we hold dear, remains unharmed. However, we must create gates within the walls of isolationism to lead lives that intersect with contemporary reality. While initially, at the inception of the State of Israel, we may have settled for an insignificant side gate, the passage of time forces us to find larger and more numerous gateways.

Women in Charedi society are pursuing higher education in colleges and specialized academic tracks tailored for the Charedi sector, leading almost inevitably to work outside the community. These developments have paved the way for sharpening the sense of connection to the collective and, naturally, to the sense of civic duty. This duty is not necessarily expressed in the need to serve or participate in formal state institutions but instead oscillates along the axis between emotional solidarity and practical participation.

Ignoring the changing state of affairs would cause us to miss an opportunity to recalibrate the necessary balance between isolation and integration thoughtfully and sensibly

Our need as Charedi women to take part in Israel’s collective should be seen as a growing trend and as not a passing episode. It requires adjustments on educational and community levels. Ignoring the changing state of affairs would cause us to miss an opportunity to recalibrate the necessary balance between isolation and integration thoughtfully and sensibly – a balance that must consider the need for deep involvement alongside protecting Charedi values.

We need good anchors to keep us connected even as we step outside the community walls and engage with greater Israel on technical, emotional, and identity levels. These anchors, including educational, Torah study, and social frameworks, are key to providing a positive response to the special challenges of our times. Some already exist. We need many more.