The Haredi World Is Changing
In the wake of the Simchat Torah Massacre, the ultra-orthodox world has displayed a new openness to the state of Israel
This essay comes from Tzvi Kilov, a writer from Atlanta, Georgia who explores the wild frontiers of authentic Jewish thought at his Substack, Not A Jungle.
A common joke in Orthodox Jewish circles around Purim time is that the Satmar reading of the megillah takes longer because in addition to the standard custom of booing the name of the Jews’ archenemy, Haman, they also jeer every time they hear the word medina, or “state.” The Hasidic group, following the opinion of its first Rebbe, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, is famous for its staunch anti-Zionism. Satmar doesn’t wave Palestinian flags or meet with genocidal enemies of the Jews, unlike the far smaller but more widely publicized token Haredi-appearing Neturei Karta. Rather, like many Haredi groups, the Satmar maintain that the reestablishment of a Jewish state before the arrival of the Messiah is against the will of God and delays the redemption.
Which is why it is so remarkable that today, in wedding halls in Hasidic Williamsburg, the Satmar stronghold in Brooklyn, men wearing black kaftans and shtreimels are waving Israeli flags. Something has changed.
Just over a month ago, Israeli society was deeply divided, with judicial reforms by the Netanyahu coalition serving as the latest casus belli in an older and deeper culture war. The real rift between Orthodox Jews and the secular hilonim over the soul of the state—and which of the two groups would be the stewards of its future—cut so deeply that many observers worried it might presage the end of the Israeli polity. Any hiloni could tell you that Ben Gurion’s willingness to compromise with Orthodox Jews was critical to the early unity of the country. Any Haredi could tell you that the destruction of the Second Temple and the long exile that followed were caused by baseless hatred and Jewish disunity. On Oct. 6, both sides appeared convinced that despite the risks, unity was less important than triumphing over their Jewish political opponents.
Then came the atrocities of Oct. 7 and the slogan “Together we will be victorious.” The Haredi community has participated admirably and en masse in the total mobilization of Israeli society. In addition to its customary charitable participation and voluntary organizations in Israel, like the medical equipment loans of Yad Sarah and the now-famous ZAKA volunteers identifying remains in the south, the past weeks have seen thousands of new Haredi volunteers seeking to be drivers, cooks, medics, and even combat troops in the IDF. In videos of the first wave of recruits completing basic training, the religious Jews are singing the Israeli national anthem, “Hatikvah,” as pure an ode as the country has to its roots in secular Zionism. The sense of unity extends beyond those bold enough to join the IDF; when the first hostage was rescued, the Vizhnitz Hassidim danced in the streets. Contrast these images with the sometimes-violent Haredi opposition to the IDF in the past, and the sense of a profound shift becomes more potent.
Some religious Jews have taken a skeptical stance on the new openness to symbols of the Israeli state. They argue that Rabbi Yoel of Satmar and other Haredi leaders’ adamant refusal to participate in the state has worn down over the generations not because of any ideological or religious change but as something akin to political corruption. After all, much of Israel’s recent political struggle has been over the state treasury and its increased spending on religious communities. Haredi Jews now rally around the flag, they argue, because it is difficult to maintain an ambivalent or even nose-pinching view toward the state whose Knesset has come under ever more Orthodox influence and whose funds go toward ever more Orthodox causes. Skeptics wonder whether any of this will make a difference the day after. They worry that despite the current surge of religious patriotism, the majority of Haredi society will withdraw again from what secular Israelis consider their fair and equal obligations to the state.
Perhaps there is another explanation. Netanyahu has declared the current conflict a Second War of Independence for Israel, and indeed, the last time the Haredim mobilized in such numbers was in the first War of Independence, 75 years ago. It may be that on Oct. 7, Hamas did what no enemy has done to Israel since the 40s: pose a credible existential threat. In light of unthinkable Hamas atrocities and the most Jews murdered in a single event since the Holocaust, secular Jews the world over have found new ways to express their Jewishness. A Chabad Rabbi in California reports that a young man came to him after the attack, saying he could not stop crying, and wrapped tefillin for the first time. Left-wing Israeli journalist and author Omer Barak posted to Facebook that for the first time in his life, he is proud of and embracing not just his Israeli identity but his Jewish identity. Perhaps the same desire to be Jewish in any and every way possible has similarly moved many Haredim. Like their secular brethren, who felt that they were missing out on something essential, they took a chance to join one of the central facets of contemporary Jewish life, the sense of national belonging and Jewish peoplehood that the State of Israel symbolizes, if imperfectly.
One day we may look back and see that what on Oct. 6 appeared to be one party to an unending and insoluble political conflict was already poised on the brink of profound realignment. For example, Haredi society has been growing more connected to the world through internet access for years, a development with which its rabbis are generally unhappy but may ultimately be powerless to stop. A Haredi today witnesses the graphic atrocities of Hamas with an immediacy that would not have been possible during the Second Intifada 20 years ago. There are other indications of a new Haredi openness. Arutz Sheva reported on Oct. 5 that the Belzer Rebbe has started an unprecedented communal organization for maintaining relationships with Hasidim who have left the world of Belz and the religious way of life, a far cry from the hardline insularity and xenophobia that have characterized the Haredi relationship with secular Jews, even their kin. Perhaps all that was required to bring this openness to the surface in a new, relatively radical expression of Jewish unity was a tragedy and a threat.
Golda Meir, a noted atheist, once said, “I believe in the Jewish people, and the Jewish people believe in God.” Perhaps since Oct. 7, Golda and the flag-waving Haredim are on the same page. If asked whether they believe in the State of Israel, they might reply, “I believe in the Jewish people, and the Jewish people wave this flag.”