A Parable (For Haredi Hearts Only)

משל

Barbershop Alley

There was this barber in Baltimore.

All the yeshiva guys went to his shop for haircuts.

A quiet guy. An Israeli that rarely smiled, though not out of anger.

He left Israel decades ago, driven by a broken heart. Driven by God.

On Fridays his shop was like a little beit medrash, bachurim discussing various sugya-topics, among them the Oriole’s chances that season and the kashrut of Dunkin Donuts. The shop straddled a largely Orthodox neighborhood and a neighborhood one didn’t walk thru, especially at night.

Late one afternoon, around sunset, Uri the barber was in the alley behind his shop; propped up by a dumpster, his mind afloat across the grey ocean, drawing on a cigarette. Out of nowhere, he was surrounded by four teenagers. They demanded his money. One brandished a small knife.

Then again, out of nowhere, five yeshiva guys about to turn the corner into the alley.

“Wait,” whispered the first one as he half rounded the corner and then pulled back. He put his finger to his lips, “Shh, Uri’s in trouble. Four guys have him surrounded.” “Don’t stand by the blood of your brother,” whispered the smallest bachur. “All Jews are responsible for one another,” nodded the guy next to him. “But do we have to put ourselves in danger?” queried another. “It’s a machloket,” said the largest. “The Rosh Yeshiva said technically it doesn’t apply to them.”

Time stood still.

“I’m calling 9-1-1.”

“No, they’ll hear you.”

Motioning across the street, Yanki said, “I’ll call from over there.” With a tear in his eye, a voice  murmured, “Shir hamalot-a song of ascents, from the depths I have called out …” “Wait,” said another, “I saw a police car outside Dunkin Donuts.”

Dovi choked out, “Too far, Uri’s in danger, no time.”

Yet another said, “But what about …”

And so they silently returned to the beit medrash; implored everyone to learn in Uri’s merit, said Tehillim, and sat down in front of their shtenders, until …

נמשל

Gaza Alley War

Today, the word Miluimnik is uttered with reverence.

A miluimnik is a reserve soldier in the Israeli army.

On Yom Kippur, our prayers paint a vivid and stirring image of the Kohen Hagadol, the High Priest, clad in white, carrying out his duty and responsibility on behalf of the entire nation. Indeed, he puts his life in danger for the good of the nation. Today our Kohanim wear green. Today, when tens of thousands of reserve soldiers in their 30’s, 40’s, and 50’s leave their wives, children, and businesses behind to defend the Jewish people against the blood-thirsty Islamist armies hellbent on killing us all, they are nothing less than Kohanim in green.

Today our Kohanim fight and put their lives in danger—and give limb and life—to protect the Jewish nation. Today, our holy Kohanim do what they meticulously trained to do, not in the Temple, but in the alleys of Gaza. Today, our Tribe of Levi serves the people of Israel, not from a seat in the beit medrash, but from the seat of a tank.

“Ashrei ayin: Fortunate is the eye that beholds all this.”   (Yom Kippur prayers)

Today, and for months and years to come, the Jewish army will need far more soldiers—10’s of 1,000’s more—than can be mustered solely from the non-Haredi Jewish and Druze population. This may sound absurd, but there is nothing I desire more in this time than to serve in the IDF. I’d be honored to sweep the floors and clean the bathrooms of our holy Kohanim.

Yoni, our 38-year-old son-in-law, has worked hard to join the ranks of the IDF and will finally do so this week. His wife and children couldn’t be prouder. “Abba,” he said to me after receiving the phone call confirming his draft date, “If I can keep a miluim guy at home who has already served hundreds of days away from his family, I’ll be happy to do whatever they want.”  As if to highlight his sentiment, last week at a Knesset committee hearing, Otniel Rosh Yeshiva Rabbi Benny Kalmanson said that families of officers and miluimnik-reserve soldiers were “falling apart.” He told of one company commander that had to turn over command to a junior officer because he had to go home to “save his marriage.” The crushing weight on these families, in addition to the families of 846 soldiers that have given their lives, and 3,555 that have been moderately or seriously wounded, is unbearable.

Over the last week, Jewish soldiers who thought they were going home, have been told that their leave has been cancelled. At any moment, the battle may come roaring back. And miluimnikim, thousands of our utterly exhausted priestly reservists, have been told that once again they need to prepare their ceramic and kevlar vestments, and be ready to leave their wives alone with the children, leave their children alone without a father to hold their hand, leave their already struggling businesses behind, and once again prepare to enter battle with the kidnapping, torturing, burning, raping, and beheading devils of Jihad.

“And God said to Cain, ‘Where is Hevel your brother?’ And he said, ‘I don’t know. Am I my brother’s guardian?’” And (God) said, ‘What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood is crying to Me from the ground.’” (Bereshit 4:9-10)

One Rosh Hashanah, almost three thousand years ago, the holy Elisha, disciple of Elijah the Prophet, offered the Shunamite woman his blessing for life. Who wouldn’t want such a blessing on the day of judgement? Nonetheless she demurred, confident that she was connected to something higher than the blessing of any man. בתוך עמי אנוכי יושבת , “I dwell amongst my people.”

When Yoni told me he would soon be donning the holy green robes of the IDF, he said—

בתוך עמי אנוכי לוחם

“Amongst my people I am a soldier.”

“At this time, and in this season; it is revealed and known before the throne of Your honor, that we are lacking…” (Yom Kippur prayers)

Postscript:

Dear Haredi Roshei Yeshiva, Tzadikim, and Gedolim,

If for some reason you are unwilling to teach the young men in your yeshivas and communities that they need to fight alongside their fellow Jews in this brutal war that threatens every man, woman, and child in Israel, then at the very least, please consider telling them the following.

• Tell them that since October 7^th the agriculture industry in Israel has lost almost its entire work force. Just like tens of thousands of miluim families are buckling under the weight of hundreds of days of service, farmers and farms throughout the country, particularly in the south and north, are watching tons and tons of produce die on the vine or go unplanted. Thankfully there are thousands of weekly volunteers, but it’s not enough. Tell your yeshiva students that you are creating a system so that every week a thousand bachurim volunteer on farms. Tell them they will be fulfilling the holy mitzva of ואהבתה לרעך כמוך, and the holy call of נושא בעול עם חבירו . Please dear Roshei Yeshiva. Your help is desperately needed. Your people need you.
• Tell your students, followers, and Hasidim that you are asking the Haredi members of Knesset to request an immediate 20% cut in all funding to the Haredi community. Tell them that those funds will be diverted to wounded soldiers and their families. Inspire them, lift their vision, and tell them this is a הוראת שעה form of tzedakah and that given the current overwhelming needs of Klal Yisrael, that it’s appropriate that “our tzibbur” give not just ten percent, but twenty. Tell them of the great Kiddush Hashem this will be.
• Tell them that the bracha of בתוך עמי אנוכי יושבת is a far greater segula and source of life-giving blessing than they can get from visiting any Tzadikim, alive or dead.

You can tell them these things.

Can’t you?