Missed Opportunity

“But Moses said to the people of Gad and to the people of Reuven, “Shall your brothers go to the war while you sit here?”  Bamidbar 32:06

The late author, academic and ambassador for the Jewish People, Elie Weisel was born and raised in Sighet, Transylvania, into what today is called, with less than complimentary innuendo, a Chassidic “ultra-Orthodox” Jewish family and community. Ultra-Orthodox Jews refer to themselves as “Charedim,” meaning those who tremble before God. Their faith, their awe, their fear, is so great, they contend, that they literally tremble when contemplating the Creator of all that exists.

The year is 1974. Each Wednesday our small class, 12-15, graduate students enrolled in the Hornstein Program at Brandeis University, would brown-bag lunch together and often host a speaker (not sure what he or she would eat), especially someone of note from within the broader Jewish community.

One Wednesday Elie Weisel was that speaker. His subject, as I vaguely remember, was the condition then of the Jewish world. When he finished his presentation, he took our questions. One student queried, possibly a bit presumptuously: having grown up in the ultra-Orthodox Jewish world but choosing to abandon it, what was his attitude now towards ultra-Orthodox Jews?

His response surprised us all. True, he said, he was no longer Orthodox, but he retains great respect for ultra-Orthodox Jews. For without ultra-Orthodox Jews, modern Orthodox Jews would be less observant, and if wasn’t for modern Orthodox Jews, Conservative Jews would be less observant, and if it wasn’t for Conservative Jews, Reform Jews would be less observant. I think he stopped there. (Of course, this was before many American Jews came to define Judaism as “whatever.”)

Elie Wiesel’s point, of course, was that even if one personally rejects the beliefs and lifestyle of the ultra-Orthodox community, that community plays an important role, albeit indirectly, throughout the greater Jewish world.  Its enormous repository of Jewish knowledge, its unapologetic pride in being Jewish, and its steadfast and resolute commitment to Jewish survival sit at the center of the complex matrix of contemporary Jewish life…whether one recognizes this or not.

Therefore, given these estimable qualities, the across-the-board, longstanding refusal of that community, with its many factions, to join the rest of Israel’s citizenry serving in the country’s military, is somewhat puzzling.

The reason, or excuse, offered by the Charedi world for this refusal is that their fervent and unbroken religious studies and prayers are necessary for the protection of the State of Israel.  These act as a religious Iron Dome.

It is safe to say that the overwhelming majority of Israelis outside the Charedi community believes otherwise.  They are convinced that the Charedi leaders and their minions tremble not only in the presence of the Creator, but also out of fear that sending Charedi young men to join the IDF would result, later if not sooner, in massive religious defection. If this were to happen, the consequences would be horrendous.  It would weaken participation in and support for thousands of Charedi educational and other communal institutions; it would weaken the Charedi economy and undermine its power structure, and it would weaken its political leverage vis-à-vis the government of Israel. In short, it would threaten the very existence of the Charedi world.

And if the interpretation held by secular Israelis is accurate, then something is truly amiss in the Charedi world.  For in spite of its strengths, it suffers from great insecurity; it feels vulnerable and even victimized.  But unlike in the past when the threat to Charedi life came from the outside, from the gentile world, today in Israel the threat comes from within, from among the Jews themselves.

Although no reliable data is available to offer an accurate picture of the number who drop out of the Charedi community, it is believed to reach into the many thousands.  The difficulty in knowing more precisely is that the drop-out phenomenon, what Orthodox Jews refer to as “losing the way,” is never openly discussed among Charedi Jews due to the emotional pain and embarrassment it engenders, and also because many of those who have “crossed over” prefer not to draw attention to themselves. Every Charedi Jew, man or woman, even one, who exits the community, who ceases to be religiously observant and blends into Israel’s secular majority, is considered a great tragedy, an irreparable loss, especially to that person’s family.

But would this have to be the inevitable outcome of largescale Charedi induction into the IDF?  Not only need it not be inevitable, but the refusal of the Charedi community to send its young men for military duty (never, of course, its young women) is not recognized by its venerated leaders for the missed opportunity it actually is.

Take the fact that even today there are a few thousand Charedi IDF soldiers, serving in various military roles. Some, like Netzach Yehuda, are their own separate fighting units. Others, particularly young men who were born and raised in Israel’s Chabad community, may also choose to integrate among disparate units. And, of course, there are the many thousands of Religious-Zionist soldiers and officers who have served valiantly and heroically, a high percentage having suffered permanent injury or lost their lives in defending their homeland.  Are young Charedi men who volunteer to enlist in the IDF already halfway out the door of the Charedi world? Some probably are. However, this is not to be assumed as the normative case.  While some undoubtedly use the army as a route out of Charedi life, others are quite principled and secure in who they are.  They are able to maintain their daily piety through prayer and study, retain their belief, and still contribute materially to the security of the state.

And it is exactly here that today’s Charedi leadership, the “Gedoli HaDor,” need to take a second look.  Rather than keep the wagons in a circle, they should see military service in the IDF as an opportunity.  The long-standing status quo of adamant refusal continues to be a lost opportunity.  Assuming that the IDF is willing to meet Charedi soldiers half-way and institute certain logistical compromises to accommodate their needs without jeopardizing the standards of military discipline and training, the potential for positive influence by large numbers of qualified Charedim serving in Israel’s military is tremendous.

Charedi rabbis might consider offering special pre-enlistment classes, modeled after those available to Religious-Zionist enlistees, to help prepare their students for the practical and spiritual challenges that will lie ahead.  At the same time, Charedi soldiers would be taught in advance of their enlistment that once in the service it would not be in their interest to actively preach religion to their fellow soldiers.  Their influence, as is the rule of thumb for soldiers from the Chabad community, or the Religious-Zionist community, would come only by way of example, by serving as role models of combined serious religious and Zionist commitment.

If the Charedi leadership would relent and this would come to pass, it would engender a sea-change within Israeli society.  Secular Israelis resent that many Charedim (generally from the “Lithuanian” school, not so most Chassidim) abjure gainful employment and live off of government subsidies and charity. They resent comparatively smaller matters like Charedi men who cause a disturbance at take-off time on a flight because they refuse to be seated next to a woman. And they resent what they perceive to be, real or not, the general aura of exclusivity that surrounds the insular Charedi community and its projection of Jewish superiority.

But, by far, the most burning cause of resentment and antagonism on the part of secular Israelis is the refusal of Charedi men to take their part in the burden of physically defending the country. “Shall your brothers go to the war while you sit here?”  Universal military service that includes Charedi men would not only lift the spirit and morale of Israel’s active military but would have an immediate salubrious effect on Israeli society overall.  As Eli Weisel would have recognized, the ultra-Orthodox can make a significant contribution to Jews outside their own community. But in Israel, this remains a long overdue and missed opportunity.