To MK Aryeh Deri, a leader of the Haredim who do not serve in the IDF
I want to describe to you what our Sukkot festival preparation looked like this year. My husband, a 54-year-old physician, is somewhere in the north, unreachable by telephone most of the time. Since Simhat Torah 5784, he has served for eight months in all. He was with the 98th Paratroopers Division in Khan Yunis, Jabalia, the bases in Israel’s central region, and now in the north.
My son, who is in a reserve unit of soldiers who were in the Golani Brigade during their regular service, is also somewhere in the north. The sector is wide. You are certainly aware of this; after all, you sit with those who decide to which of the front lines my husband and sons will be sent.
My younger son is a regular soldier in the Nahal Brigade, fighting in Rafah. He has been there for most of the past six months. He called as we were eating the pre-fast meal before Yom Kippur. They were given their telephones because one of the soldiers from the Armored Corps brigade to which they were attached was killed. That is the procedure. When someone is killed, they let the soldiers call their parents. My sons did not fast on Yom Kippur. One cannot fast in combat. The lulav and etrog are waiting for them at home.
But according to you, it would be better for my sons and their friends to leave the front and sit in yeshiva. After all, a day of Torah study makes days of combat unnecessary.
According to what you yourself have said publicly, you are supposed to call upon the heads of the hesder yeshivas and the entire national-religious community to urge their sons to leave the front and return to their yeshivas.
According to what you yourself have said publicly, you are supposed to call upon the heads of the Haredi yeshivas to open their doors and invite all of the soldiers who are fighting, religious and secular, to sit and learn; to invite the pilots, those who intercept the UAVs, and who staff the war rooms, the soldiers of the Intelligence Directorate, those serving at sea, in the air, and on the ground, to cease all of their military work and go to yeshiva.
According to what you yourself have said publicly, the war can be won easily, with no price in dead or wounded soldiers, with no tormented, sleepless nights. We will disband the IDF tomorrow, and we will all go and study Torah.
Obviously, you do not mean that – neither you nor any of the Haredi ministers or Knesset members, neither the power brokers nor the rabbis nor the most revered sages of the generation.
After all, you all expect, rightly, that the pilots and soldiers of the Air Force will stand against the missile attacks from Iran and do everything in their power to intercept UAVs. You all expect, rightly, that the troops of the Infantry, Armored, and Artillery Corps will clear out the villages in Lebanon that threaten the communities in the north, that the soldiers of the Intelligence Directorate will give you the most precise information, that the Artillery Corps and the Navy will provide cover, that the Transportation and Logistics units will move the required equipment, that the medics and physicians will accompany everyone who goes in.
Like all of us, you are horrified by what has been found in the villages across the border and by the thought of what would have happened if Hezbollah’s Redwan Force had joined Hamas on Simhat Torah 5784.
Like all of us, you are terrified, and you expect the IDF to do everything in its power to ensure that there will never be another pogrom in the State of Israel.
Like all of us, but with one difference: You are unwilling to take part.
I am certain that your ancestors, the Torah scholars of Morocco, like mine, the Torah scholars of Poland, would never have imagined a situation in which the Jewish citizens of a Jewish state refused to enlist in its army — the very army that protects them. I am certain that your grandfathers would never have imagined a situation in which a Jew expected his fellow Jew to send his sons to fight and endanger themselves for him while he sat in safety, fighting to avoid taking part in the effort to protect life. Mostly, they would never have imagined that anyone would do so in the name of the Torah.
Had they heard of a Torah-observant community that shouted “We will die rather than enlist,” while its leaders dared to sit in the government, sending soldiers of their own people and country to fight, they certainly would have torn their clothes and put on sackcloth in mourning for the Torah that had been so distorted.
I ask myself how a Jew can send his brothers into combat even as he fights to keep himself and his children from taking part in it. How can those who are devoted to the Torah ignore the commandment “Do not stand idly by when your neighbor is in danger”? Or the commandment to return our brothers’ lost items — which, our sages taught, includes bodily harm? Or the commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself”? Although what I am about to say terrifies me, I can find no other explanation: You do not see us as “neighbors,” as fellow Jews. I fervently hope that I am wrong.
The burden of proof is upon you, the leaders of Haredi society, the yeshiva students and their families. To answer it, you need only do one thing: Stand up and send your sons to the enlistment centers. Accompany them with worry, love, and tears as we do, and tell them, as we tell ourselves and our own sons: fulfill the Torah’s commandment to protect your neighbors and your people from the enemy. If you do this, perhaps we will merit the fulfillment of the prayer: “Bestow on us the blessing of Your festivals for life and peace.”