Editor's Note: The thoughtful article by Moshe Schapiro
about his experiences in the Israeli Army elicited a number
of interesting responses, which we are presenting here. We
are also including another letter that appeared last week in
the Hebrew Yated because of its relevance to the
issues discussed here.
Who Should Serve?
To the editor:
Mr. Moshe Schapiro ("Uncle David," 27 Teves) advises us that
"even one second [in the army] is much too long." Fine. Would
he please tell us what his alternative is? Should nobody go
to the army? If he holds that we should do away with the army
completely, then let him say so befe molei.
Or perhaps he holds that only non-frum Jews should
serve in the army. Bechol haTorah kulah we don't find
that a non-frum Jew has fewer obligations than anybody
else. On the contrary, Schapiro's piece, from beginning to
end, is an argument that as many frum Jews as possible
should serve! Everybody agrees that there are problems of the
sort he mentioned -- one would have to be a fool to deny it,
although my experience in tironut (which consisted of
all of two weeks!) was certainly a lot better than his --no
problem at all with tefilla betzibbur, food that was
mehadrin, no chillul Shabbat. But the only way
to correct the situation that he describes is to increase the
ratio of frum to non-frum Jews in the army.
Danny & Dena Kurtz
Bet El
The Author Responds:
My main objective in writing this article was to point out
that besides the theological arguments against conscripting
yeshiva bochurim, the IDF's disregard for enforcing
its own self-imposed regulations makes it virtually
impossible for religious individuals to serve in the army and
maintain an acceptable level of Torah observance. I believe
that I proved this claim quite conclusively.
Unfortunately Danny and Dena Kurtz missed the point of my
article. I come to this conclusion because in their critique
they cite only the second half of my closing sentence, which
in the original reads (and I quote): "As things stand
today, even one second is much too long." The first
clause of the sentence conveys clearly the point that I am
making -- i.e., that the IDF today is a hostile spiritual
environment for people who take religion seriously, but that
things don't have to remain that way forever.
Thus, in answer to Mr. Kurtz's question, "What is [the
author's] alternative?" I say simply that the Ministry of
Defense and the IDF should start cleaning up their act and
live up to their own sacrosanct "rules and regulations." Let
them back up their claims with concrete actions. This is my
proposal.
When this objective is accomplished and religious individuals
such as myself will be able to rest assured that they won't
be fed treif or forced to desecrate Shabbos
needlessly, then we can start discussing the extent of the
religious community's involvement in army service. But not
before.
The remainder of Mr. and Mrs. Kurtz's comments are irrelevant
to my article. Questions such as who should serve in the army
and under what terms are for the gedolei Torah to
decide. We will do whatever they say.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank the residents
of Bet El (where Mr. and Mrs. Kurtz live) for the generous
hospitality they extend to soldiers on duty. You can't
imagine what those marvelous cups of steaming coffee and cake
mean to a frozen reservist manning a roadblock in the middle
of the night. Thanks, and keep them coming!
Moshe Schapiro
We Do Not Go Because Learning Should not be
Interrupted
To The Editor:
I greatly enjoyed Moshe Schapiro's article "Uncle David Wants
You" in the 27 Teves edition. He has lucidly pointed out the
serious problems facing religious soldiers in the IDF, making
it out of the question to consider even compromise solutions
to the controversy over drafting yeshiva bochurim.
However, in counterpoint to his testimony of negative
experiences as a conscript and reserve soldier, may I offer a
few words of limud zechus with regard to the IDF?
Had Moshe Schapiro been with me at the time of my initiation
into the Army in 1984 (at the age of 30, with two small
children), he would have found a greater level of adherence
to Army regulations. As equipment was being issued, an
officer summoned the religious soldiers forward to receive a
second mess-tin and silverware (he doffed his cap to show us
that he himself was not religious, and thus not extending
protexia).
Later, the base's katzin dat (officer of religious
affairs) brought the religious soldiers to a spot beside the
kitchen, where we kashered the mess-tins and
silverware we'd received. He explained to us our rights with
regard to religious observance, and asked who wanted to be
supplied with glatt meat (which was in fact provided
to those who requested.)
Religious soldiers were excused from a portion of the
standard morning duty, and every day there was a substantial
minyan in the base shul. Of course, we had to hustle
in order to daven, gulp down a two minute breakfast,
and rejoin our unit for completion of the morning duty -- but
I don't think we were much worse off than the other
soldiers.
My induction was shortly before Pesach. We were sent home for
the Seder, and after coming back we found the base
storeroom stocked with an immense quantity of hand matzos
from the BaDaTz of the Eida Chareidis. Those matzos
sustained me and a comrade almost until the end of our
basic training several weeks later.
While drilling for the ceremonies that were to close our
basic training, we were reminded time and again by our non-
religious officers to say "ani matzhir" (I declare)
rather than "ani nishba" (I swear) in the swearing-in
ceremony.
In my experiences as a reserve medic in the years since,
serving mostly in border outposts on the Golan Heights and
the northern border, I have never found any post so small
that it does not have a room set aside as a shul, nor
found the shul locked. It may be little larger than a
broom closet, with no furnishings other than an Aron
Kodesh and a couple of wooden benches -- but it serves
the purpose of providing a quiet spot away from the barracks
for davening, learning and introspection.
When I need to go out on a night patrol, I have generally
managed to get assigned to the second patrol on Shabbos night
(thus enabling me to bring in Shabbos and make Kiddush
without undue pressure) and to the second patrol on
motzei Shabbos (thus avoiding altogether the
additional chillul Shabbos). It's just a matter of
explaining the situation -- well before Shabbos -- to the
person responsible for drawing up the duty roster.
I have not had any instances of ill-treatment or denial of
rights as a result of my observance. My feeling is that,
having made clear to my companions and commanders that I have
my own standards regarding kashrus, Shabbos and
personal behavior, and that I am not part of their crowd, I
earn their respect rather than dislike.
I could go on much further with my "war stories." However, my
intention is neither to rebut Moshe Schapiro nor to defend
the Army. I simply wish to point out the problematic aspect
of citing our individual experiences in the draft
controversy. If we tallied up all the testimony of all the
frum soldiers who have served in the IDF, pro and con,
and found the positive to outweigh the negative, would we
agree to drafting the bochurim? If agreements were
reached to ensure the technical and administrative apparatus
needed to mend the negative aspects of Army life in the
realms of kashrus, Shabbos, etc., would we agree?
Certainly not! The issue has been decided, and not simply
because the Israeli Army is no place for a nice Jewish boy,
but because no interruption in the learning of a yeshiva
bochur can be tolerated.
Sincerely,
Yosef Branse
Rechasim
The Author Responds:
It is indeed unfortunate that I was not with Yosef back in
'84 -- his base commander deserves a commendation. Too bad
they don't all embrace the same approach.
Needless to say, I agree with Yosef Branse that the issue of
drafting the bochurim should not be settled according
to the results of a survey of religious soldiers'
experiences. My point was that until the army cleans up its
act and provides to all soldiers everywhere, the opportunity
to observe basic laws such as Shabbos and kashrus, the
army is indeed no place for a nice Jewish boy. It's not a
very difficult thing to do -- where there's a will, there's a
way. What has been lacking so far is a will.
I hope sincerely that airing out this issue will bring about
a change for the good.
Moshe Schapiro
To The Editor:
I read with interest Moshe Schapiro's article regarding his
adventures in the Israeli army. I also was put in a similar
position, experienced basic training and many years of
reserve duty. Although my conclusions were similar, I thought
perhaps my point of view might be of interest. I also was
conscripted at an older age, married and with children. I
served until (kein ayin hora) the size of my family
exempted me from further participation (about 10 years).
I also catered my own meals for many years; I survived very
well and earned the respect of my compatriots. I never had a
confrontation with the authorities (either in the rabbinate
or in the military). I was treated respectfully at every
turn; my experience was that any religious need was
graciously filled; perhaps not to the standards that I would
have preferred, but always graciously.
When I had the misfortune to be "on duty" during Pesach, the
army brought me more handmade shemura matzos than I
could possibly deal with. When I was in "service" during the
shmittah year, care was always taken to bring me
vegetables appropriate to my needs. When I had personal
religious (or other) needs, my fellow (non-religious)
soldiers willingly and graciously rearranged their own lives
to accommodate me (even at serious inconvenience to
themselves).
Of course, I do not deny that the kashrus in the army
is virtually nonexistent, nor do I deny that Shabbos
observance leaves very much to be desired. I would have
preferred to daven under more conducive circumstances.
I could regale the reader with as many stories equally as
entertaining (or depressing) as the author's. However, those
are not the reasons why I would never send my children to the
army. If our children are not strong enough or knowledgeable
enough to withstand the temptations of a few morsels of
poorly cooked and unappetizing food served and cooked by the
slobs the author described, woe is us!
My own complaints lie more in the realm of modesty and peer
pressure. The proximity of the genders and the casual and
intimate relations fostered by the military regime and
constant stress are virtually irresistible. The army is
literally run by our Jewish daughters. They are present at
every turn holding the most responsible positions. They are
the teachers and the administrators. They are the problem
solvers and the social workers. Contact is unavoidable and
inevitable. Our drafted children would be at the height of
adolescence, hormones overactive, and the peer pressures
overwhelming. Who could possibly resist?
On the positive side, the opportunities for education and
kiruv are boundless. The very presence of a chareidi
Jew in full "battle" regalia (beard and payos...) is a
"wonder" in and of itself. The reality that said apparition
borders on humanity is beyond belief.
I am not a learned man, nor do I have a facile tongue. I am
not able influence my fellow Jews using my Torah erudition or
brilliant logic. However, I cannot begin to relate how many
fellow Jews came to me over the years with questions; how
many simply wanted to talk; how many opinions, how many
deeply ingrained animosities (with Hashem's help) I was able
to reconstruct, just by being there!
The opportunities to mekadesh sheim Shomayim are
awesome. We must not forget that although our beards and
payos are very familiar and beloved to us; they are not so
well known to everybody. Our "payelach" and
"tzitzkelach" are unfortunately alien and threatening
to a very large segment of the Jewish nation. It is our duty
to rectify this; not by throwing stones on Shabbos, not by
outraged waving of rule books; rather by displaying our own
good midos and values; by providing a positive
examples and role models.
The army is one of the only remaining forums where Jews of
different hashkofos meet. It is one of the few
frameworks where person to person contact can actually
occur.
Permit me to relate a few heartwarming stories of my own:
On one occasion, I was confined to a guard tower with another
Jew (vocally anti-religious in his views); we spent the
entire night together awake, with little to do but look out
the window (guarding) and talk. As usual, the subject of
religion and religions Jews was high on the conversation
priority list.
A few days later this same Jew came to speak with me: the
previous day he had been riding the bus in Bnei Brak as
usual. Suddenly it occurred to him (he told me): "Maybe all
those other (black hatted people) are like you?" My month of
incarceration in the army base was worth it for that one
comment.
On another occasion it was my turn to guard at a certain
place on Shabbos. I told my fellow soldiers that I would take
their shifts so that they wouldn't need to mechalel
Shabbos to relieve me. I asked them to please not call me
on the radio nor in any way break the Shabbos on my account
unless there was an emergency. I settled in for a quiet and
pleasant (relatively) Shabbos alone in the guard house.
But my fellow Jews were too compassionate to leave me alone.
Not knowing that I would never eat it, they kept driving out
to bring me food, to keep me company ("you might DIE out
there alone") . . . The entire day I had not a moment of
peace because of their beautiful (although misplaced) good
feelings. Nothing I could say would dissuade them.
On another occasion, I was on a training exercise. I found my
fellow soldiers cooking "our" dinner in their helmets over a
Primus stove, unfortunately making a serious error in
kashrus which precluded any religious Jew from sharing
the meal. I brought their attention to the mistake; you
cannot imagine how genuinely upset they were, how sincere and
heartfelt their charata and embarrassment.
These Jews are not momerim lehach'is or even
letayovon. They are tinokos shenishbe'oo. They
desperately need guidance and education. They need exposure
and proximity. Only we can provide these. We may be making a
severe and serious mistake by denying them this unique
opportunity.
Noah Greenberg
Bezalel Editions Limited
Safed
The Author Responds:
I agree wholeheartedly with Reb Greenberg that there are
endless kiruv opportunities in the army. Jewish souls
behave very differently when disconnected from the mind-
curdling influence of television for more than 24 hours. I
too spent many a shift conversing amicably with nonobservant
partners who grudgingly admitted that my behavior called into
question the pat stereotypes drilled into them by the media.
In fact I had some of my best conversations with a member of
Kibbutz Mizra (where they raise swine), and I even got him to
open a Chumash for the first time in his life.
The point of my article is that in the army's present state,
the negative outweighs the positive. It's a case of
chayecha kodmim -- "Your life comes first." A person
has an obligation to save a fellow Jew, but not at the
expense of losing his own life in the process.
Editor's Note:
The following letter appeared in the Musaf Shabbos
Kodesh of last week (Parshas Beshalach). Because of
its relevance to the issues discussed in the other letters
(though they do not deal with this specific issue) we are
including it here.
Were Religious Soldiers Left by the IDF to Die?
To the Editor:
I would like to bring your attention to a little known fact
about not protecting the soldiers of the "religious brigade"
that once was a separate unit.
In his book, Armed Before the Camp, S. Goren wrote
about a reason for not acceding to the demand that was raised
to set up religious units of the army:
"In addition to these [other reasons] there was a security
consideration that was serious and decisive [by itself] that
cannot be discussed here. Indeed, it was not long before the
accuracy of that security consideration was revealed to all,
in all its seriousness."
This secret reason that Goren hinted at is also referred to
in Hashkofoseinu, by HaRav Y. A. Wolff:
"The military situation was hopeless, and many were killed
near Latrun. A religious brigade fought near Faluja, in the
approximate vicinity of Kommemiyus, and very few returned. In
the newspaper about of the municipality of Bnei Brak about
three years ago they wrote that the IDF could have saved more
of the soldiers from that [religious] brigade . . . and a
religious army unit was never set up after that."
Here there is a fairly clear accusation of abandoning the
religious unit that fought in the Faluja pocket. (If I am not
mistaken, even in recent times in the general press there
were accusations of different treatment for religious combat
soldiers in the war in Lebanon.)
Perhaps it would be worthwhile to investigate the accusation
about Faluja, which Goren -- who without a doubt knew
something about what was happening behind the scenes --
hinted at.
Thank you.
Tzvi Kirshenbaum
Rishon Letsion
