The Deafening Disconnect

As we enter the period of the Four Parshiyot, which ushers in the Pesach season—a time when we long for Geulah (Redemption) more than any other—we begin with Parshat Shekalim. This parsha mandates that every man in Israel, rich or poor, donate exactly half a shekel to the Sanctuary. Rav Hirsch explains that a half-shekel, rather than a whole, signifies that we cannot achieve our goals alone; only by partnering with others can we fulfill our fundamental needs, such as the daily Tamid offerings, the most crucial sacrifices brought by Am Yisrael.

Wags joke that the timing of Parshat Shekalim coincides with the impending Pesach expenses, urging us to get our shekels ready. But in truth, the deeper lesson is that shared responsibility for national burdens is a prerequisite for Geulah. Only when everyone participates equally and values each other's contributions can we hope to achieve redemption.

This message resonated deeply as I reflected on two contrasting events this past week. The first was my participation in an RCA Rabbis' solidarity mission to Israel, arranged by World Mizrachi, where we sought to bring a message of care to those suffering. Yet, as always, we received far more than we gave in lessons about Mesirut Nefesh, Ahavat HaTorah, and love of Am & Eretz Yisrael.

What inner strength did you discover in yourself that you didn’t know you had, and how will you use it in your life ahead

Our first stop was the Yeshivat Hesder in Maalot, near the Lebanese border. We met Rosh Yeshiva Rav Yehoshua Weitzman, who spoke about the challenges of running a Hesder yeshiva in wartime. Baruch Hashem, none of the current students fell in this war, but hundreds engaged in combat, and several alumni lost their lives. Despite constant missile fire, the yeshiva never ceased learning. From the war’s onset, students have been studying Torah 24/7 around the clock, a merit Rav Weitzman believes has contributed to their relative safety. In addition to their learning, the yeshiva has provided crucial counselling to soldiers and their families. Rav Weitzman challenges each returning soldier with a profound question: “What inner strength did you discover in yourself that you didn’t know you had, and how will you use it in your life ahead?”

We then visited Michael and Hadas, the parents of Lt. Yair Shoshan HY”D, who fell just a month ago. Their son was a revered commander, yet humble and kind, his parents never knew of many of his rewards and accolades which he hid away until after his death. He excelled in academics, mentored troubled youth, mastered piano and martial arts, and was a beacon of religious inspiration. Despite his demanding military schedule, he adhered to a rigorous daily learning regimen—including 3 pages of Gemara, a chapter of Mesilat Yesharim, another of Chassidus, and several others that I don’t remember — far more than many who study full-time. His influence extended even to army culture, where he fostered deep respect for tradition and set an example followed by others of eliminating profanity and swearing in his tough army units.

In Even Menachem and Kiryat Shmona—communities near the Lebanese border—entire populations have been displaced since the war began. We witnessed bombed-out buildings, homes ravaged by neglect, and the struggles of those striving to keep communities intact. With the evacuation officially ending on March 1, thousands face an agonizing choice: uproot the new lives they’ve begun elsewhere or return to devastated homes with little government support. Many have served in the IDF, sustaining injuries and trauma, yet receive minimal assistance in rebuilding their lives. Apparently, “supporting our troops” takes on a different meaning when it involves actual help.

The next day, we met Rav Yishai and Tzofia Englelman, a Rebbe in Yeshivat Maaleh Adumim who is slowly recuperating from severe wounds suffered in Gaza while remaining a beacon of strength for his Talmidim. We met Bazy Rubin in Efrat who struggles to keep her family together while her husband spends hundreds of days in reserve duty. I am reminded of what Shimon Apisdorf recently wrote, “ Otniel Rosh Yeshiva Rabbi Benny Kalmanson said that families of officers and miluimnik-reserve soldiers were “falling apart.” He told of one company commander that had to turn over command to a junior officer because he had to go home to “save his marriage.” The crushing weight on these families, in addition to the families of 846 soldiers that have given their lives, and 3,555 that have been moderately or seriously wounded, is unbearable.”

We then spent several hours at Yeshivat Har Etzion, learning with Talmidim and then meeting Rosh Yeshiva Rav Moshe Lichtenstein, who spoke of the challenges of Yeshiva in wartime and the many current and former students in combat. He reflected particularly on the moral dilemmas of fighting an enemy that threatens Klal Yisrael while maintaining our ethical compass. The incredibly inspiring Rav Moshe Taragin, whose son was gravely injured, described the experience of joining the painful “club” of families of severely wounded soldiers while continuing to support his students. 

We met Rav Hillel Merzbach, Military Rav to 2,500 soldiers, helping them to navigate impossible halachic and emotional challenges, and Rav Yosef Zvi Rimon, who, in addition to his heavy Rabbinic duties and prolific halachic scholarship, dedicates himself to aiding families, widows, and those seeking shidduchim. We ended our mission at Me’ahal HaGevurah, a site ensuring that fallen soldiers' sacrifices are not in vain and that Israel fights until victory. We listened to Miriam Elezri, mother of Yonatan HY’D, who was killed on October 7 defending his brethren in Ofakim while still in pre-army training.

That was one event this week. The other was observing the remarkable unity across Israel following the confirmed deaths of Shiri, Kfir, and Ariel Bibas.

Tens of thousands lined the roads in collective mourning, displaying unparalleled national solidarity—except for except for the conspicuous absence of one large group.

The disconnect from the reality that the rest of the country is facing is glaring, unfathomable, and painful

A group that largely does not share in the sacrifice and heroism we witnessed. A group that would turn out in droves if one of their leaders passed but did not find it important to join the rest of the country in this agonizing funeral. 

Without minimizing the truly admirable efforts of some individuals within their ranks who learn, pray, and assist the soldiers, hostages, and evacuees, the broader community remains insulated — detached from the reality the rest of the nation is enduring. One mainly hears from them in their efforts to ensure that whether or not they are learning, they “would rather die than be drafted”.

Even when they acknowledge the crisis, it is often through a lens of self-congratulation, crediting their Torah learning alone for the nation’s protection. This mindset ignores the heroic Torah learning within the Religious Zionist camp—learning that exists alongside military service and national responsibility. It also starkly contrasts Moshe Rabbeinu’s rebuke: “Shall your brothers go to war while you sit here?” (Bamidbar 32:6). And this disconnect is not limited to the extremist fringes. Last week, the president of American Agudath Israel speculated—albeit tentatively—that a thwarted bus bombing might have been due to the merit of 200 businessmen spending a few days learning at a Yarchei Kallah in Jerusalem. The disconnect from the reality that the rest of the country is facing is glaring, unfathomable, and painful.

As we approach the season of Geulah, we learn from Purim that it was only when all the Jews joined together to support the efforts of Esther that they were saved.  Let us hope that this year, redemption is not merely a wish for “Next Year in Jerusalem.” It is clear that true Geulah will only come when we are united—not just in words, but in action, sacrifice, and mutual responsibility.

PS Contributions to help wounded soldiers and general chesed can be made to https://www.lemaanachai.org/en/

A charity set up in Yonatan Elazri’s memory is at https://www.charidy.com/otzemc/10056

Printed in the Jewish Press and Queens Jewish Link March 7, 2025

Opposing the Hostage Deal - Profiles in Integrity

The Hostage “Deal” is at the top of everyone’s mind here in Israel. As I write this essay, it is still uncertain whether the deal will go through, but everyone is torn by the prospect of a deal with ruthless Nazi-like monsters to bring some of our precious brethern home. 

There is no one in Israel whose heart does not go out to the hostages and their families, who have undergone indescribable pain and suffering in the 470+ days since that accursed day of October 7, 2024. There is no one who would not be moved to tears of joy at seeing any of the hostages released and reunited with their loved ones. And yet, the hard reality is that the price currently on the table — the release of thousands of terrorists, including those who have killed, murdered, and raped; the granting of the ability for Hamas to claim victory and begin rebuilding; the withdrawal of the IDF from critically important areas; the agreement that two-thirds of the remaining hostages will not be released as part of this deal — is extraordinarily high and not only places Israel at great risk but makes the sacrifice of the close to one thousand of our young heroes almost pointless. It is too much to bear.

There are those who say we have to trust that President Trump and PM Netanyahu know what they are doing in accepting such a deal, and that we should trust them. That perhaps Israel is being promised some secret benefit (perhaps US help in taking out the regime in Iran?), or that the idea is to get out hostages and rely on Hamas to inevitably break the terms which will allow Israel to re-engage, after the Israel haters in the Biden Administration are gone. 

(Listen to a very interesting presentation in this vein by my friend, the esteemed Rav Dov Fischer).

I, for one, certainly don’t know.

What I can say, however, is that I am proud that I have voted for Otzma Yehudit in the last several elections, and proud that they are taking a stand to vote against the deal (while they will mostly continue to support PM Netanyahu from outside the coalition).

Please find below an excerpted version of the resignation letter published by Yitzhak Shimon Wasserlauf. He was (is) the Minister for the Development of the Periphery, the Negev, and the Galilee in the current government. It expresses beautifully just what I would want one of our elected offcials to say. I find his integrity and clear-headed stance on the issue inspiring, and hope that he and his party will have even more support in the future.

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I joined Otzma Yehudit (OY)at the age of 18. ... After OY became an independent party, it ran in the elections five times and finally passed the electoral threshold on the fourth. Nevertheless, I continued to participate in every struggle we had and gave it my all.

I wasn't promised budgets or jobs. I was promised only an ideological backbone. They promised me that we would stand for the truth.  That is what kept me going in the face of all the detractors and "pragmatists", who always had explanations for why we should continue to do what was politically expedient. When we demonstrated together and cried out, they always told us that “the issue is complex” and “what you see from here you don't see from there”.  That it wasn't black and white.

I told myself that if and when I get to this moment, I hope I won't be like them. I prayed that I would have the courage to stand in front of the mirror, in front of my values, in front of my inner truth, and that I would not be influenced with all the glory and glitter.

And now we stand at the moment. It is the moment when I stand before a test for which I have been training all my adult years — The test of truth. I’m an honest person, and I honestly say that if I weren’t a minister today, I would probably be demonstrating in front of my own house against this deal.

We hugged each other, sat together and cried.  Yet, I told him I was going to oppose a deal that would bring his daughter back.

Indeed, life is complicated — very complicated. I will cry with excitement for every kidnapped person who returns home. The day before yesterday, I went to the home of one of the parents of the hostages who will be released in this deal. I knocked on the door, and my heart was pounding . He opened the door, and we embraced. We hugged each other, sat together and cried.

Yet, I told him I was going to oppose a deal that would bring his daughter back. I explained to him how unbearable the decision was. And I also explained to him how much I wanted his daughter at home.

It was excruciating — Don’t envy us.

My conscience has been crying out since October 7th. I feel like I'm in an ongoing nightmare. I tried to be wherever I thought I was needed. I tried to provide a solution for the heartbroken. I don't know if I've done enough — probably not, because it's never enough.

But I did everything out of intense love for my people, out of the responsibility that accompanies me in my public mission.

I never asked, and in performing my role I was never interested whether the person standing in front of me was religious or secular, and what his or her beliefs were. Or whether he is right-wing or left-wing.  We are a Great Nation, and each one of us has a great soul. I can’t stand labels or sectoral divisions.  I learned so much about our people in the year and a half of this war.

I am terrified of the release of hundreds of terrorists who succeeded in murdering Jews or who tried to murder and did not succeed, who are proud of their deeds and would be happy to do so again.

Above all, I wanted to be a worthy emissary for all the strength, heroism and dedication of our fighters and our wonderful people. I'm proud of the work my ministry did during the war. We were privileged to help and do significant things.

However, this deal, as it has taken shape, is inconsistent with the dictate of my conscience.  Its long-term significance is disastrous, as it  will cost us a lot of blood, God forbid.

Yesterday, I saw the tears in the eyes of my friend Limor, whose husband Shuli was murdered by a terrorist who was released in the Shalit deal. I am terrified of the release of hundreds of terrorists who succeeded in murdering Jews or who tried to murder and did not succeed, who are proud of their deeds and would be happy to do so again.

I am afraid of the picture of Hamas's victory when they begin to rebuild Gaza and themselves, and once again turn their bayonet and wickedness on our people.

I cannot face the families the families of the heroes who fell in this war in order to achieve victory over our enemies, whose eyes long for them and are determined they shall not have died in vain. As well, I cannot look at the families of the abducted and murdered, G-d forbid, who still have no names and faces.

I must act according to my conscience, and that's what I will do.

I thank the chairman of OY, Itamar Ben Gvir, who taught me over the years to stand up for principles, to fight for our truth, and to pay the personal price when necessary.

I will announce, together with my fellow ministers, my resignation after the deal is passed by the government. I will do so with a heavy but complete heart.  And with G-d's help, I pray together with everyone for good news and the success of our beloved country.

Yitzhak Shimon Wasserlauf

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Published in the Queens Jewish Link, January 24, 2005

The Aftermath of Chanukah

As I gaze at the lights of the Menorah on the eighth night of Chanukah, I wonder: Was Bais Hillel right?

We all know about the famous machlokes (dispute) between Bais Shammai and Bais Hillel regarding the optimal way to light the Chanukah Menorah. The universal custom of the Jewish people is not just to light the bare minimum of one light per household per night but to mark the days in a special fashion. Bais Hillel, whom we follow, says that we should light in ascending order—one light on the first night, two on the second, and so on until we reach eight on the final night. Bais Shammai, however, argues the opposite—we should count down, starting with eight lights on the first night, seven on the second, and ending with one on the last night.

The Gemara offers various reasons for the two opinions, but I want to focus on how the opinions are characterized. Bais Hillel hold that we should be מוסיף והולך "Mosif Veholech"— continual growth and increase,while Bais Shammai emphasizes פוחת והולך "Pochais VeHolech" — gradual reduction.

Most people I know are drawn to Beit Hillel’s approach. Perhaps it is because we are accustomed to it, but beyond that, the idea that things continually improve resonates deeply. The recent viral song in Israel, "Sheyihiye Od Yoter Tov" by Rav Shalom Arush, reflects this sentiment. It speaks of believing not only that everything is good but that it will continue to get better. And that is what we all want to believe.

However, I don’t want to be a curmudgeon, but I have some doubts about that. Is everything really so good and getting better? While it is true that Israel has had some amazing successes in this long and terrible war, is it not wilful blindness to ignore the enormous suffering of so many? After the horrific events of October 7, close to one thousand of our brave soldiers have been killed, thousands more injured, tens of thousands of families displaced, and untold thousands have been serving interminably and watching their businesses and families suffer. Debates rage between those who think the army and the many reservists are desperately in need of more manpower, and those who believe that going to the army is absolutely forbidden and must be resisted at all costs, and there are many other struggles.

Almost everywhere I have been,
there is far more excitement the first night

Especially now, when so many things seem to be getting worse, not better, I question whether "only increasing in holiness" is an accurate reflection of reality.

Returning to Chanukah, let us be honest. For many people, who are not unusually holy and spiritual, which night of Chanukah is the most exciting — the first, or the last? Almost everywhere I have been, there is far more excitement the first night. By the time the seventh and eighth nights roll around, we remember to still light the menorah and sing Maoz Tzur yet again, maybe play some dreidel, and then it's back to business as usual. We have already gone over our Chanukah Divrei Torah, had our parties, spent time with our families, and barely can find any inspiration in yet another night of preparing the menorah, cleaning up the dripping oil, and lighting. The freshness has faded and our attention drifts elsewhere.

In other words, perhaps the dispute between Bais Shammai and Bais Hillel is whether we look at the many days of our longest holiday (Succos and Shmini Atzeres are separate) as aspirational, striving to grow in kedushah (holiness) as time progresses, or whether we face the reality of how we actually observe it.

This difference in outlook between Bais Hillel and Bais Shammai can be seen in many of their disputes, with Bais Shammai taking the more “realistic” stance, while Bais Hillel seeks to inspire us to greater heights. One famous example of this difference was in the dispute between Shammai and Hillel as to how to treat three converts who wanted to convert on the condition that they could be the Kohen Gadol, keep only the Written Torah, or learn it in its entirety while standing on one foot. We always like to think of Hillel’s exemplary kindness seeing the potential good in them while gently guiding them past their delusions, whereas Shammai rebuffed them. But if you think about it, if any of these fellows would have approached any responsible Rav today, they would have probably gotten the Shammai treatment. I heard that Rav Soloveichik זצ"ל exclaimed, “Shammai was right! I would have thrown them out and said, ‘Come back if and when you are serious!’”

And yet, we almost always pasken like Bais Hillel.

This tells a lot about how we should view what Chanukah teaches us, especially as we leave it. We could look at it as Bais Shammai did, as a time when inspiration inevitably declines, leaving us to reflect wistfully on what could have been.  Indeed, the historical Chanukah story supports this perspective. Space does not permit in this short essay, but the full story of the Hasmoneans is not a pretty one. While Al HaNissim tells us that it started gloriously with Mattisyahu and his heroic sons, and the miraculous battles in which “the mighty were felled by the weak, and the many in the hands of the few” accomplished a great victory, there was then the “Achar Kach,” which consisted of cleaning out the mess and purifying the Mikdash. “By the way, they also lit lights” seems almost an afterthought. Furthermore, the later generations of Chashmonaim were so evil that they were totally exterminated after doing enormous damage to the Jewish people, including inviting the Romans into Eretz Yisrael to settle the dispute between Hyrcanus and Aristoblus, great-grandsons who gave very little nachas to their illustrious predecessors. A sad and sorry ending to what began with great hopes.

What about our inspiration?

What are we still willing to do?

But we are called to take our inspiration from Bais Hillel. To not give in to “reality”; to seek not only to maintain our moments of inspiration but to nurture and grow it into a great flame which will motivate us to do great things. Sustaining it demands intense effort, but if we aim to achieve remarkable results, we have to persevere. 

As a tragic example, all of us were motivated a year ago to pray for the hostages in Gaza with all of our hearts and to do whatever we could to help their families and all the families of those who were murdered or displaced from their homes.

It is now a year later. Those hostages that are still alive have been there now about 450 terrible, awful days — we would not want to experience even one of those days in our worst nightmare. The war drags on and even intensifies from the accursed Houthis. The families who need help need it even more as the general interest wanes.  What about our inspiration? What are we still willing to do? Are we going to be Mosif Veholech or Pochais Veholech?

It seems to me that this is the challenge of the aftermath of Chanukah. May we continue to strive to grow personally and not let our motivation to help others—who may be in even greater need—peter out as we get back to “reality.” Let us look forward to the time when we will be able to unreservedly “give thanks and praise to your Great Name,” and have our inspiration grow only greater and greater.