In this week’s Sidrah, Matos, the tribes of Reuven and Gad approach Moshe with what must have seemed to them like a reasonable request. The land east of the Jordan was particularly well suited for their livestock. Why not allow them to settle there rather than receive their inheritance together with the other tribes in Eretz Yisrael?
Moshe’s immediate response (Bamidbar 32:6) is devastating:
הַאַחֵיכֶם יָבֹאוּ לַמִּלְחָמָה וְאַתֶּם תֵּשְׁבוּ פֹה
“Shall your brothers go to war while you sit here?”
Moshe does not begin by discussing military manpower or asking whether the other tribes can manage without them. He raises a much more basic moral question: How can you allow your brothers to place themselves in danger while you remain safely behind?
That question is impossible to read today without thinking about the crisis tearing Israeli society apart.
The issue is not whether Torah study is important. Its importance is beyond dispute. Torah is the heart of the Jewish people, and Israel must nurture great Torah scholars, Rabbanim, Dayanim, teachers and serious students who will preserve and transmit our spiritual inheritance.
The question is whether Torah supports the wholesale exemption of an entire and rapidly growing community from the burden of defending the Jewish people. Can it truly be maintained that virtually every young man enrolled in a Haredi yeshiva is exempt by Torah law, even during a prolonged national emergency? Can the declaration that “we will die rather than enlist” really be defended as the authentic voice of Torah?
And what of the thousands who are not learning full-time, or who are barely learning at all? Should they also be exempt simply because they are part of Haredi society?
I find that very difficult to accept.
The Argument from Shevet Levi
One of the main sources cited in support of exemption is the Rambam’s description of Shevet Levi. The Levi’im were separated from ordinary national pursuits so that they could serve Hashem, teach His ways and serve in the Mikdash. They did not receive a territorial inheritance and did not participate in war in the same manner as the other tribes.
The Rambam then adds that anyone whose spirit moves him to separate himself from worldly concerns and devote himself entirely to knowing and serving Hashem may attain a similar spiritual status (Hilchot Shemittah VeYovel 13:12–13).
These are magnificent words. But it is a very large jump from the Rambam’s description to a blanket exemption for every Haredi young man.
The Rambam is describing an exceptional person who gives up personal ambition and worldly calculation in order to devote himself wholly to Hashem. He is not describing an automatic status granted to every member of a particular community, regardless of whether he is actually learning seriously or living with that level of self-sacrifice.
More fundamentally, it is not clear that the Rambam intended to exempt even Shevet Levi from a war necessary to defend the Jewish people. The Mishnah states that in a Milchemet Mitzvah, everyone goes out, even a bridegroom from his chamber and a bride from her canopy (Sotah 8:7). The Rambam codifies this in Hilchot Melachim 7:4.
Important Torah authorities have therefore understood Shevet Levi’s special status as relating to ordinary national warfare, territorial conquest, division of spoils, or exemption from certain taxes and civic responsibilities. That is very different from saying that they could remain uninvolved while the entire nation faced mortal danger.
At the very least, the claim that the Rambam clearly and indisputably exempts today’s yeshiva population from defensive war is much weaker than is often suggested.
(Moreover, one may reasonably question how consistently the Shevet Levi argument is actually applied. When matters of great importance to the Haredi community arise, there is no hesitation to leave the beit midrash and engage vigorously in practical hishtadlus. Enormous efforts are made to bring out the vote for Haredi parties, fundraising (even by senior elderly Roshei Yeshiva), organizing mass demonstrations against proposed legislation and to secure the release of arrested yeshiva students. On a personal level as well, people understandably work hard to find the best doctors, suitable apartments, and appropriate shidduchim.
Except for a very small number of exceptional individuals, the Haredi world does not generally maintain that one should simply remain in the beit midrash, learn Torah, and trust that Hashem will arrange everything else without human effort. On the contrary, it strongly believes in taking practical steps to secure the things that matter.
One must therefore ask why, when the issue is the physical security of our brothers and sisters, and the country is convulsed by a frightening national emergency, the argument suddenly becomes that yeshiva students must remain exclusively in the beit midrash and that their Torah learning alone will protect everyone else. Why is vigorous hishtadlus considered necessary in virtually every other area of communal and personal life, but not when Jewish lives and the security of the nation are at stake?
There is much more that could be said along these lines, but that would take us beyond the present discussion.)
Torah Study and National Survival
There was a powerful historical reason for the original limited yeshiva exemptions.
After the Holocaust, the Torah world lay in ruins. The great yeshivot of Europe had been destroyed together with their Rabbanim and students. Rav Yitzchak Herzog and the Chazon Ish, among others, pleaded for the preservation of the small surviving remnant. At that time, drafting a few hundred remaining students was feared to endanger the rebuilding of Torah scholarship itself.
That was an extraordinary response to an extraordinary catastrophe. It does not follow that the same argument justifies exempting tens of thousands of young men generations later, when the Torah world in Israel has grown beyond anything they could have imagined.
Nor does military service necessarily mean the end of serious Torah learning. The hesder and broader Religious Zionist yeshiva worlds demonstrate that every day.
Their batei midrash are filled with serious and sometimes extraordinary Torah learning. Their students learn intensely, leave the beit midrash to defend the country, and then return after months of exhausting and dangerous service. Their Roshei Yeshiva have produced major works of halacha and Torah thought.
Since October 7, Religious Zionist communities have paid an almost unbearable price. Yeshiva students, graduates, Rabbanim and fathers of large families have served repeated reserve deployments. Some have fallen. Others have returned wounded in body or spirit. Their wives have held families together alone for months at a time.
A close friend of mine, a Rav and businessman with five young children, recently marked his 1,000th day of service since October 7. While he was away, his wife and children continued to carry the burden and worry about him from afar.
It is impossible to look honestly at such sacrifice and claim that military service and greatness in Torah are incompatible. These religious soldiers have also had a remarkable effect on comrades from nonreligious backgrounds, who have seen their faith, courage and self-sacrifice up close.
Their Torah is not second-class Torah. Their mesirut nefesh is not a concession to secular values. It is Torah lived under fire.
But these families are being pushed beyond what can reasonably be demanded of them. The army’s desperate need for manpower has led to longer and more frequent reserve duty and the extension of initial service for younger soldiers. Too much is being demanded from too few.
That cannot continue indefinitely.
The Spiritual Dangers Are Real
At the same time, the spiritual concerns of the Haredi community should not be mocked or dismissed.
The IDF in its early years often displayed a serious anti-religious bias. While matters are far better today, military life can still present real religious challenges. Questions of modesty, interaction between men and women, standards of kashrut, time for tefillah and Torah study, and exposure to a very different culture are all legitimate concerns.
Parents and roshei yeshiva are not irrational for worrying that a young man raised in a protected environment may be changed by military service.
But the existence of a problem does not prove that no solution is possible.
The army already contains hesder units, Haredi-oriented programs and other forms of religious accommodation. Some have worked better than others, and mistrust has accumulated on both sides. Still, there is no reason in principle why strictly male units could not be developed with uncompromising standards of kashrut, proper time for tefillah and Torah study, and commanders trained to respect the religious commitments of their soldiers.
None of this can be developed seriously, however, if the Haredi position begins and ends with “under no circumstances.”
What would happen if leading Roshei Yeshiva and Haredi representatives came to the army with a genuine desire to find a solution? They could say: We recognize the need. We recognize what is being asked of reservists and their families. We want to share responsibility, but we must build a framework that protects our young men spiritually.
They might also acknowledge how painful and infuriating it will be when Bein Hazmanim arrives and thousands of yeshiva students are vacationing, hiking and swimming, while other young men continue serving in Gaza, Lebanon and elsewhere under dangerous conditions.
The army, for its part, would have to respond honestly as well: We are not trying to remake your sons. We need their help, and we are prepared to construct appropriate frameworks together with you.
That would not settle every disagreement. It would, however, be a beginning.
Before Tisha B’Av
Soon we will sit on the floor on Tisha B’Av and mourn the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash. Speakers throughout the Jewish world will explain that the Second Temple was destroyed because of sinat chinam. We will lament Jewish division and speak about the need for greater ahavat Yisrael.
But we must ask whether our conduct in the weeks before Tisha B’Av matches those words.
Blocking roads used by parents, workers, elderly people and emergency vehicles does not increase love of Torah. Hurling ugly epithets at soldiers and police officers does not sanctify Hashem’s Name. Calling those who carry the physical burden of defending us persecutors of Torah creates resentment not only against Haredim, but against Torah itself.
The demonstrators may believe they are protecting the Beit Midrash. But when the defense of Torah is expressed through contempt for other Jews, it can produce exactly the sinat chinam we will soon sit and mourn. It also creates a terrible Chilul Hashem.
And the resentment is not confined to secular Israelis. Many observant families have watched sons, husbands and fathers disappear into reserve duty again and again, while another community insists that its sons must remain completely untouched.
These families are reaching the breaking point. So is Israeli society.
A Question That Cannot Be Avoided
Moshe did not deny Reuven and Gad the right to live where they wished. Once they promised to cross the Jordan and fight until the other tribes had received their inheritance, he accepted their proposal.
The lesson was not that every Jew must live in exactly the same way. It was that no tribe may create a comfortable arrangement for itself while leaving danger to everyone else.
There may properly be exemptions for a limited number of exceptional Torah scholars whose uninterrupted learning is truly a national necessity. There must be exemptions for those who are medically or psychologically unable to serve. There can be different forms and lengths of service, including important roles outside combat.
But a categorical exemption for an entire community is becoming morally, socially and militarily impossible to sustain.
The Torah world must help formulate a solution rather than declare every solution forbidden. The government and army must offer genuine safeguards rather than empty promises. Both sides must move beyond slogans, insults and political gamesmanship.
A catastrophe looms — not only a security catastrophe, but a rupture within the Jewish people.
Moshe’s question cannot be shouted down, blocked on a highway or dismissed as anti-Torah:
“Shall your brothers go to war while you sit here?”
We need an answer that is faithful both to the Torah we learn and to the brothers whose lives defend our ability to learn it.
Published in the Jewish Press July 10, 2026
