When her son received word after Oct. 7 that his unit was being deployed, Clara understood that sending her child to the front line was the price — and privilege — of living in Israel. In a small country with a citizen army, everyone is called to serve.
Driving from their home in Jerusalem to an army base in the south of the country, Clara and her son passed through a haredi neighborhood. Yeshiva students had set up a makeshift hospitality table at an intersection. Seeing a soldier in uniform, they rushed over to the car with sandwiches, homemade desserts and soft drinks. At a moment of national crisis, it was a small gesture of goodwill from those who do not serve in the army toward those who do.
Clara, who identifies as Religious Zionist, politely declined. “I know they think they are being helpful,” she told me when my Modern Orthodox synagogue’s mission visited her community on a recent trip to Israel. “But really I just wanted to get out of my car and punch them in the face. My son is putting his life on the line for our country while they sit around cashing their government checks without a care in the world.”
Who could argue with her?
In a nation racked by division, there is perhaps none more divisive than the refusal of the ultra-Orthodox to follow the laws requiring them to serve in the army or participate in national service. The cherry-picked Talmudic sources the haredim summon to justify their intransigence don’t withstand even minimal scrutiny. The robust “hesder yeshiva” model in which students from mostly religious Zionist backgrounds combine rigorous Torah study and military service belies the argument that the army and the yeshiva are anathema to one another. And even if in peacetime one accepts a case for some form of accommodation for Torah scholars, in a war in which the army is desperate for more personnel, what possible exemption could there be?
While the tension is naturally felt more acutely among the citizens of Israel, Diaspora Jews feel it, too. Modern Orthodox communities have seen a dramatic uptick among young Americans who are making aliyah and enlisting in the IDF. The overwhelming majority of my synagogue members have relatives and friends who are on active duty or serving in the reserves. Meanwhile, thousands of haredim are taking to the streets to protest new draft bills that would limit the exemption for young ultra-Orthodox men enrolled in yeshiva study. When our synagogue delegation met with a haredi soldier tasked with recruitment of yeshiva students, the prevailing sentiment among our members was: Good job. Now if only you could add a few zeros to the total number of your recruits.
American Jews in particular are allergic to injustice. Equality before the law is sacrosanct. To most, that an entire class of people would be accorded special treatment seems preposterous. Where is the fairness in a system that allows haredim to sleep soundly under the blanket of protection provided by the IDF without ever lifting a finger to support those who provide it?
Some members of my congregation have told me that — since the war in Gaza began — they are no longer comfortable watching their philanthropic dollars support the ultra-Orthodox in Israel. All of the inequities notwithstanding, American Jews should resist the impulse to punish all haredim by withholding their charity dollars across the board. Rather than paint the entire haredi community with one brushstroke, American Jews ought to be more discerning.
Surely, enabling yeshivas that have institutionalized draft-dodging serves no noble end. But there are also many deserving charitable causes in the haredi world of which Modern Orthodox communities like mine have been historically supportive. Whatever we think about the question of army service, we American Jews should continue to contribute that much-needed support. Some of these organizations encourage the integration of haredim into the army; some provide financial assistance to widows and orphans or those struggling with disabilities; others help at-risk youth or support the elderly.
Part of what it means to belong to a Jewish people is the willingness to help those with whom we disagree. When Jews are in economic distress — even if that distress is self-inflicted — the obligation of tzedakah is not diminished. Would a day school withhold a scholarship from a prospective student because the family’s financial needs were caused by a bad business decision? Some 30% of Israeli children are living below the poverty line, including the majority of children in haredi households. American Jews should support them irrespective of their religious or political affiliation.
Time can have a way of shrinking cultural divides. Given the growing number of haredim who have a direct connection to someone serving in the army — whether it’s a neighbor, friend or family member — there is every reason to believe that the gap between haredim and non-haredim could narrow. There are already signs that change is coming to the haredi community. After Oct. 7, thousands of haredim volunteered to join the IDF. Military units like Netzach Yisrael and Nahal Haredi, which were created to integrate such enlistees, are helping move the needle. (Another such unit is reportedly facing U.S. sanctions over its human rights record.)
But cultural changes like these can’t be willed into existence by legislators or judges; they will take time. In the interim, American Jews should be thinking about how to build bridges with the haredi community. We Jews are a small people with quite enough adversaries in the world. The haredim are not the enemy. One can believe in one’s heart that their leadership decisions are entirely misguided without concluding that the whole lot of them ought to be written out of the script. The next chapter of the Jewish story will surely include Jews of many different persuasions.
To paraphrase Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, the pioneering chief rabbi from prestate Israel, in response to a question from a distraught parent about how to approach children who had veered from “the path” of piety: The answer isn’t to love them less; it’s to love them more.
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