For over a year now, I can’t stop writing. While for the first half of the war, my articles were invariably tied into the theme of unity—highlighting many of the charedi community’s incredible initiatives toward the war effort—since Pesach, the predominant theme has been charedi IDF service, or lack thereof. I’ve shared correspondences I’ve had with charedi rabbonim and roshei kollel, delved into some of the Torah sources on the topic and profiled hesder students—serious bnei Torah—who gave their lives. Most recently, I’ve shared an insider’s perspective from the charedi unit I was drafted into this summer, through the IDF’s Shlav Bet program. My goal, in doing so, is not to declare that charedim need to enlist in the army writ large, but to lift the veil from the fog created by inconsistencies, hypocrisies and misuse of Torah sources endemic to the charedi position. If honest dialogue—instead of fear-mongering, gaslighting and name-calling— can be had, I trust that people can draw their own conclusions.
My correspondence with charedi rabbonim, in the past year, has left me with severe doubt whether the charedi position on army service is meant to facilitate avodas Hashem, or whether it’s meant to facilitate the sustenance of the socio-cultural phenomenon of today’s Israeli charedi society. Unfortunately, those two do not necessarily overlap. One of the primary reasons for that doubt is that I have yet to see an in-depth Torah article or kuntress grounded in Torah sources to explain the charedi position. To be clear, I have asked a number of prominent rabbonim to provide one. This is not my experience alone. In a recent “Headlines” podcast, the host shares how no charedi rabbonim he asked were willing to discuss the basis for charedi exemption from IDF service.
The main reason I’ve been given as to why no such articles are written is because it will primarily draw pushback from those in favor of IDF service. I wonder what happened to “milchamta shel Torah—the tradition of debate in Torah study?” Isn’t disagreement in Torah a welcome phenomenon? And shouldn’t one be able to defend their position with Torah sources?
For a community that prides itself on full-time kollel learning as an ideal for everyone, and which produces sefarim on topics relevant for one day, every few years—such as ערב פסח שחל להיות בשבת—this is an astonishing absence. By contrast, the dati leumi world is producing dozens of learned articles containing in-depth analysis of the sugyas relevant to IDF service.
In light of this, when David Shulman reached out to me asking if I would consider sharing a guest post on my Substack, “View From Jerusalem,” to provide insight into the charedi position, I was heartened to see someone making a serious effort to delve into these sugyas. What follows is Rabbi Shulman’s essay itself, followed by an in-depth response I received from Rabbi Tzvi Goldstein.
Before you dive into their essays, permit me to share two observations worth keeping in mind. One, Rabbi Shulman’s positions are not representative of the mainstream charedi leadership’s positions, certainly not Israeli charedi leadership. Yet, Rabbi Shulman attended mainstream, high-level charedi yeshivas for high school and beis medrash (Shaar HaTorah in Queens and Beis Medrash Govoha), his kids go to yeshivish schools and he davens at the Lakewood Kollel in his New York/New Jersey area yeshivish community. As such, his essay is fascinating—in and of itself—for providing a peek into what the average American yeshivish person might be thinking to themselves, yet won’t say out loud.
Speaking of which, note that “David Shulman” is a pseudonym. He is not anonymous to me; in fact, one of his children was in school together with a relative of mine. I don’t love the idea of people publishing anonymously, but truthfully, I can well understand his need to do so. The social and cultural consequences (school acceptance, yeshiva acceptance, shidduchim, etc) for giving voice to non-standard charedi positions can be devastating. As an aside, this is the other primary reason why I doubt whether charedi rhetoric on this topic is in service of Torah or in service of preserving charedi culture which, again, are—unfortunately—not always one and the same.
Without further ado:
David Shulman (pseudonym) attended Yeshiva Shaar HaTorah in Queens and Beis Medrash Govoha in Lakewood. Today, he lives in a yeshivish community with his wife and children, and in his spare time, blogs about current events and matters of hashkafa. He can be reached at [email protected]
Guest Post: Insight Into the Mind of a Charedi (1)
Intro and Halachic Considerations
Introduction
Much of the confusion surrounding the charedim stems from the unnecessary blending of various topics. In reality, this discussion needs to happen on three different core levels, each one with its own respective complexities. Without examining each one individually though, it becomes challenging to form a well-informed opinion or identify specific points of agreement or disagreement. As a result, one may be left to choose a side based solely on a general sense of what feels right, which is hardly a solid basis for forming an opinion. This article aims to delineate the different topics, so that readers—on both sides of the aisle—can understand their stance on each and make informed decisions.
I will share my personal opinions along the way, but if someone disagrees with a specific point, recognizing that disagreement itself can help individuals align themselves appropriately and thoughtfully with their respective camps.
The three general topics are: (1) halacha, (2) hashkafa and (3) politics. Each of these areas, in turn, requires its own thoughtful consideration. We’ll aim to unpack each one to gain a clearer understanding. Although some of these topics overlap, we’ll do our best to separate them in a clear and coherent way.
- Halacha
From a halachic perspective, there are three key issues that fuel the debate: (a) milchemes mitzvah (obligatory war), (b) the laws of shecheinim (neighbors), which dictate that everyone in the city must contribute to communal protection and (c) concerns related to shmad (religious coercion) and the preservation of Torah.
1a. Milchemes Mitzvah
The Rambam includes in the ingredients of what makes a war a “milchemes mitzvah”—the idea of “saving Israel from an oppressing (attacking) enemy,” which classifies it as an “obligatory war.” We can debate whether this applies to our current situation—there are arguments on both sides. Frankly, there’s not much in the Shulchan Aruch on the topic—aside from a brief reference in hilchos Shabbos—and I’m unsure how most people can feel confident in their conclusions on this issue.
There’s a debate over whether a Jewish king is required (based on the phraseology of the Rambam), which is debatable, and the question of whether the enemy needs to be actively attacking at that moment (a distinction mentioned explicitly in the Gemara), whose parameters are rather vague. Since this isn’t something we’ve had to address during this long galus until pretty recently, there aren’t many halachic authorities who have delved into the details—leaving us in a bit of a gray area. Personally, I find the arguments about needing a king or that we aren’t in a situation of active attack to be speculative, and I wouldn’t be surprised if milchemes mitzvah did still apply in our situation. However, other reasons have been presented—some strong, others less so—and I’m far from being in a position to issue a halachic ruling.
(Anyone interested can and should read the sefer תורתו אומנותו by שלמה בניזרי who brings many of the relevant sources (not necessarily good conclusions; leave that to yourself to determine after reviewing the sources on your own). I’d humbly suggest that everyone who does go through the sugya, should do so trying to come out not like your specific community’s priors, in order to reach the most objective conclusion.)
That said, I’d like to highlight one key point: to my knowledge, there’s no halachic exemption for those living outside the specific city under attack when it comes to milchemes mitzvah. While I don’t claim to have all the answers, this does raise an important question—Why aren’t we calling on able-bodied individuals in the United States to contribute to the war effort? For some reason, it appears that milchemes mitzvah isn’t the primary focus. This may be because the IDF seems to have the situation under control from a hishtadlus perspective (as far as this topic is concerned; see 1b) in which there is no requirement to run after others, or there could be other reasons at play.
But it’s also the case that when we boil down the concerns people raise about the charedim, they seem to be more concerned about the morality of the neighborly laws anyways, and not about the technicalities of if this, actually, qualifies as a milchemes mitzvah. This, to me, ends up obfuscating the issue as we get mired in intricacies of a topic we know little about. So, let’s shift our focus to what I, anyway, believe to be the real issue at hand.
1b. Hilchos Shecheinim
This issue is more straightforward. It starts with a Mishna and Gemara in Bava Basra 7b-8a and is explicitly stated in Shulchan Aruch (Choshen Mishpat 163): “Everyone in the city is obligated to contribute to communal needs, including its protection.” Yes, everyone. The concept of שוויון בנטל (sharing the burden) is not just a slogan—it’s a clear halachic requirement. There’s no need to appeal to morality or logic for those who don’t immediately accept them; this comes directly from God’s Torah, which has guided us throughout our history: everyone in the city must “share the burden.”
That being said, there is a special exemption for a select few, those categorized as רבנן, or—as the poskim refer to it—תורתם אומנותם—“those whose occupation is Torah study,” the reason being, their Torah protects them. This is also a well-established halacha (ibid. seifim 4-5, sourced in the Gemara and Rishonim). Anyone who dedicates their entire life—day and night—to studying God’s word, giving up worldly pursuits and making Torah their profession, is exempt from civic duties pertaining to protection. That much is clear.
What’s less clear is exactly who qualifies for this exemption. Not every yeshiva student necessarily meets these criteria. Firstly, it is unanimous that the exemption applies only to those who are truly sitting and learning diligently and are (at least, on their way to becoming) talmidei chachamim. It also involves meticulousness in observing halacha and having a deep sense of yiras Shamayim (see Beis Yosef ibid., which—in my opinion—is sourced in the Gemara, as elaborated in Toras Chaim 8a).
There is some debate among the Rishonim about who exactly is considered תורתו אומנותו. Ritva and Meiri argue that only those who never engage in work qualify for this exemption. However, the consensus—expressed by the Ramban, quoting the Ri Migash—in the name of the Rif (and cited by the Ran, Nemukei Yosef, Tur etc.), as well as the Rosh (end of siman 26)—and reflected in Shulchan Aruch and accompanying poskim (see also Shach), is that even someone who works but devotes his every spare moment to studying Torah is included. The Ritva adds that this exemption applies not only to established rabbis but also to Torah students, and there’s no reason to believe anyone disagrees with this, even if they don’t mention it explicitly.
While it’s often difficult to practically determine which individuals qualify as honest and true תורתם אומנותם—talmidei chachamim, we do have two major takeaways: (1) those who don’t meet this exemption are—according to halacha—shirking their responsibilities to their neighbors in violation of a clear Mishna and Shulchan Aruch in hilchos shecheinim (neighbors). (2) Those that do qualify are squarely and fairly exempt, and to remove those select few from “their posts” would be a סכנה, as they are the נטורי קרתא—“protectors of the city,” as discussed in the Yerushalmi (Chagigah 1:7) amongst many other sources.
From what I gather, most people in the Dati Leumi community would have little issue with everything mentioned so far. They wouldn’t object to exempting those who genuinely qualify, even if the percentage of those qualifying is higher than they might assume (I wouldn’t be surprised if it falls somewhere up to even 30%). The real concern lies with the majority who may not qualify—What justification do they have?
However, there is another factor to take into account, and that is the spiritual dangers of Klal Yisroel. This is a bit more complex, so let’s break it down:
1c. Shas Hashmad
In the charedi world, there exists a small but vocal minority that believes serving in the army poses a risk of shmad (religious coercion). This group has representation in the government through Eitz and holds significant influence in America—particularly under Reb Malkiel. If their perspective is accurate, the implications are much more serious.
Personally, I do not share this belief, and to my knowledge, most charedim align with my view. The majority of Israeli charedim belong to parties like Gimmel and Shas, which are more moderate and recognize that circumstances have changed over the past 50 years. They believe the army genuinely seeks their manpower, rather than attempting to “shmad” them.
However, the minority does harbor such concerns—and while I disagree—their worries are not entirely unfounded. Some government officials and journalist mouthpieces still hold this “shmad” viewpoint, and, although, I believe they are in the minority and not worth excessive concern, I can understand the more extreme perspective of considering this shmad—especially in a political landscape where parties wax and wane.
Additionally, the army has yet to fully demonstrate its reliability. The Nachal Charedi program, which aimed to accommodate charedim by removing the greatest risk—separating the boys and girls—unfortunately, was a failed experiment. It’s true that the already vulnerable charedi “dropouts” were the ones subjected to this experiment, and their emergence even weaker than before doesn’t provide much insight into what might occur if we expanded the program to include a broader range of charedim and fostered a more charedi environment. However, in the end, they have little to show for themselves to appease those who believe this constitutes a situation of shmad.
In the mainstream charedi community, we no longer view the situation as a halachic “shmad” crisis (which requires “ill-intent,” see Chidushei HaRan to Sanhedrin 74b)—especially since many government officials are willing to accommodate our needs. Given this context, the focus shifts back to the issue of hilchos shecheinim. Thus, with the right accommodations, we can and should find a compromise and share the country’s burden without jeopardizing our core values or disrupting what is currently working for our mesorah—as the United Torah Judaism party is currently working toward.
But, let it be clear, just because it’s not a shmad per se, this doesn’t mean that just everything goes. Our values are central to who we are, and they are not something we can just toy around with. What we would need is a compromise that would respect our principles, and like it or not, we won’t just dismantle our system to satisfy those who neither share nor respect our views.
For instance, if a full draft were instituted based on the first principle in hilchos shecheinim (that everyone must share the burden), how would we ensure that the second halacha that exempts true talmidei chachamim is upheld? While the current yeshiva system allows a problematic loophole where anyone can claim exemption, the truth is that it is difficult for an outsider to distinguish between those who deserve it and those who don’t—something only an insider can accurately determine. The last thing we want is for the government to make that call.
As it stands, the system allows for talmidei chachamim to remain in yeshiva, but also allows many undeserving others to stay. But if we dismantle it, we risk violating the other halacha that talmidei chachamim are truly exempt. Who’s to say which halacha takes precedence? Charedim could understandably and rightfully argue that forcing talmidei chachamim out of their learning could endanger our physical protection—a risk we can’t afford to take.
Again, I don’t claim to have all the answers, and finding a compromise here won’t be easy. However, several potential solutions are on the table in the Knesset that address these concerns, and we can hope the right balance is found.
It’s also worth noting that the involvement of the chachmei haTorah in making decisions like these is explicitly mentioned in Shulchan Aruch (Choshen Mishpat, siman 2).
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Guest Post: Insight Into the Mind of a Charedi (2)
The Charedi—Dati Leumi Hashkafic Divide
- Hashkafa
Previously, we examined some of the halachic issues in regard to charedim in the army, but now we need to discuss the hashkafos and what exactly it is that the charedim are trying to uphold—a slightly more delicate part of the discussion. Hopefully with this, we will gain a better understanding of the charedi position.
When discussing the charedi community versus the Dati Leumi community, there are two core beliefs we all share—which are somewhat contradictory—and how we balance the two, i.e., how much weight we place on each belief, is what defines our respective camps. The first core belief is that Hashem created the world, gave us the Torah and wants us to follow His laws and grow closer to Him. And, contrary to what some charedim might think, this is something the Dati Leumi community deeply believes and even cherishes.
The second core belief is that we live in this world and must contend with its realities. To the surprise of the Dati Leumi community, charedim believe in this too, which is why we’ll use top-tier doctors and the like.
Practically, these two beliefs are often in tension. While it is true that everything we do is in the service of God,—including “the mundane,”—achieving closeness to Hashem and excelling in Torah learning requires a degree of separation from this world. The statement “אין דברי תורה מתקיימים אלא במי שממית עצמו עליה—Torah endures only in one who ‘kills’ himself over it,” is neither a joke nor a metaphor; anyone with experience in learning halacha appropriately knows its truth. This applies not only to Torah, but to any measure of “closeness to Hashem” in general—as the Rambam famously writes in regard to the work necessary to truly love and fear Hashem, האהבה כפי ההשגה—“One’s love for God is proportionate to how much one understands God.”
Yet, at the same time, we are also bound by the countless responsibilities in this world that pull us away from that goal. Even charedim acknowledge that these obligations can’t always be avoided. After all, we do live in this world, not the next, and life in this world involves eating, sleeping, caring for oneself, marriage, raising children, earning a living and fulfilling communal obligations—the list goes on. While all these things are important and necessary—and, indeed, maintenance of the machine is also a form of avodas Hashem—the reality is that they, inevitably, detract from the single-minded focus required to master Torah and intimately fear and love Him.
The divide between the two camps—and, perhaps, how we can strengthen each other in our respective faults—should be easier to see now. On one side, since we truly need to take care of our multitude of responsibilities, one can easily fall onto the mindset of complacency that suggests, “If these distractions exist, then so be it.” This attitude comes because these “distractions” truly are avodas Hashem and we shouldn’t diminish their importance. Furthermore, misguided deemphasis in these areas can be hurtful and dangerous (as we’ll explain shortly).
But, at the same time, we are meant to yearn for love and fear of Hashem, and we should be constantly aspiring to deepen our understanding of His Torah; this is our mission as Jews. While the majority of us are unable to commit fully to a lifestyle full of this endeavor—we have other responsibilities which place our avodah in those areas—our feelings should reflect an “if only I could” longing, rather than a sense of resignation. This thirst will create a path where no matter where one ends up in life, they will grow and find ingenious ways to expand their avodah and live a life of growth.
The Rambam famously said that he wished he could live in a cave in order to avoid all distractions and focus solely on his avodah. This does not mean he actually thought he should run away and live there; he knew his responsibilities to his family, his community and to Klal Yisroel as a whole. What he meant was that his yearning to love God fully, made him wish that he could do so. In some places, one can almost hear the Rambam grumbling about the number of responsibilities he has because of this tremendous longing.
In short, those who emphasize the values of living responsible lives and not shirking basic human responsibilities can run into the pitfall of complacency which can undermine the other part of our avodah, closeness to God and mastery of Torah (each according to their level). Coupling those responsibilities with the Rambam’s attitude—to never stop yearning—is the antidote.
On the flipside, when this powerful attitude of yearning shifts from being a part of life to an all-consuming way of life that ignores the importance of life’s practical responsibilities, it can obviously lead to significant problems. For example, the belief that earning a living is only “bedieved” (a second-best option), especially when it turns into a communal stigma, is problematic—no one wants to live feeling like they’re in a bedieved situation, nor should they.
However, there’s a big difference between an ideal or a yearning, and a “lechatchila” (the first-rate option). Hashem sets up the path of life for each individual—assigning different responsibilities to different people—and those responsibilities are non-negotiable. It’s within that framework that one should strive to grow closer to Hashem and learn His Torah. While we teach the ideal in our yeshivos, as life unfolds, we must learn how to adjust. Those who successfully integrate their values and ideals into their busy lives are the true “lechatchila” servants of Hashem—even if their lives are filled with obstacles that they must take seriously.
Needless to say, someone with such a yearning will seek to learn and grow as much as possible—carefully balancing their other responsibilities to ensure they don’t unnecessarily limit their avodas Hashem. In this way, everyone will find their place within their unique, divinely tailored lives. Some will be lucky to be able to dedicate themselves full-time to learning, diving deeply into sugyos and emerging with clear halachic rulings. Meanwhile, for a variety of reasons, others may only have a few minutes a day for learning. But as long as they are genuinely making the effort, they are certainly not, chalilah, living a second-tier life.
The problem emerges when this “ideal” becomes a rigid way of life, leading to neglect of basic human responsibilities, which, ironically, harms the heart of the charedi goal of enhancing kavod Shamayim. How many boys left the yeshiva system because they felt these other values were needlessly neglected? But more harmful is that this way of life can cause unnecessary pain and harm within the community and beyond. For instance, when any worldly efforts are devalued, the immense sacrifices the wives make to support their husbands in kollel can be disgustingly underappreciated, and safety measures and responsibilities toward child-care and communal well-being at large can be widely neglected.
To be clear, most individuals in both the charedi and Dati Leumi communities are good, sincere servants of Hashem. While I identify as charedi and live amongst charedim, I maintain strong connections within the Modern Orthodox world, and I see both the challenges and the virtues in each. And, let me be clear: we’re doing well as a people—Hashem is proud of us! When I say each side has its shortcomings, I mean that the issues that arise—whether personally or communally—are extremely reflective of these specific areas where each community struggles.
What I’ve noticed in our sub-community divide—especially since the pain of October 7—is that the legitimate criticisms of charedim for neglecting certain responsibilities have turned into this complete lack of understanding, leading to harsh, illegitimate accusations. Some are going so far as to label charedim as “evil,” “selfish” and “anti-Torah.” Meanwhile, the charedi side is shouting back, claiming we’re simply following the Torah and labeling the other side as “heretics” or “reformists.” It’s time to take a step back and breathe. Both sides have valid points and are coming from valuable, important places. This doesn’t mean we should shy away from having difficult (heated) discussions, and hopefully, these conversations will lead to necessary changes on both sides.
Through these two posts, I hope that many charedim can gain an appreciation for the other side, recognizing that they are not simply a group of kofrim. They have legitimate claims, and even if one ultimately disagrees with their perspective, that doesn’t necessarily make them haters of Torah. At the same time, I hope those outside the charedi world can better understand our perspective and see how we’re not just selfish and evil. Perhaps, we have a point or two about the preservation of the Torah, and that our weaknesses, unfortunately, stem from our valuable strengths.
That said—while I understand the strengths of my fellow charedim and where they are coming from—I do not condone the weaknesses I see within the community. While lives are being upended, charedim are continuing their daily routines with little to no understanding of the struggles their fellow Jews and their families are facing. My goal here is simply to present to those on the outside some insight into the mind of the charedim and replace the hate with meaningful dialogue.
When it comes to the army issue in particular, we must strive for a compromise. Fortunately, discussions are already in progress that take the charedi viewpoint into account. May Hashem help us find a balanced and appropriate resolution, enabling us to continue bringing the light of true Torah learning into the world, while also standing in solidarity with our brothers who are literally giving up their lives—protecting us during these challenging times.
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The conversation shifts significantly when we bring in the third leg of this discussion—Israeli politics at large—which tends to complicate everything and cast everyone in the worst light. In reality, it’s not quite that way—even within the government. Unfortunately, this isn’t written yet—hopefully soon, עוד חזון למועד.
May we hear besoros tovos, yeshuos v’nechamos.
Chaim Goldberg has semicha from RIETS, a graduate degree in child clinical psychology from Hebrew University, and he enlisted in the IDF this summer through the Shlav Bet Haredi program. In civilian life, Rabbi Goldberg teaches Torah at various yeshivot/seminaries and practices psychology. On the side, he writes for Jewish publications across the globe and at chaimgoldberg.substack.com
