Rabbi Rael Blumenthal

This week, whilst all eyes in the US have been fixed on the election, our brothers and sisters in Israel have not been so fortunate. The persistence of rockets, sirens and daily attacks makes it hard to be fully distracted by the endless news cycles, zingers and tweets.

Beneath the challenges of daily life in Israel, however, there is a conflict which is threatening, once again, to engulf the State in painful divisiveness. The issue at hand is exempting Yeshiva students from serving in the IDF.

Over a year into the war, with hostages still held captive in Gaza, Israel has learned that the idea of a “small smart military” is not enough. Tzahal needs soldiers.

With each soldier who has fallen, some of the them fathers of young children, the pressure is mounting on the many young men in Yeshivos who are learning Torah around the country.

I have no doubt that you have an opinion on this matter.

Perhaps you believe that every (or almost every) yeshiva student should be mandated to serve.

Perhaps you believe that it is only in the merit of the Yeshivos that the State of Israel continues to survive and thrive against all odds and enemies.

Whichever side of this debate you find yourself, there is most likely one thing that everyone agrees to: Young men who are not learning seriously in Yeshiva, should definitely serve in Tzahal. There is simply no defense we could offer to exempt a student who spends his time hanging around outside the Beis Medrash.

This clear and obvious conclusion, however, turns out to be more complicated than we might imagine at first gloss. Indeed, it becomes exceedingly challenging for us here in Chutz La’aretz.

Leaving aside Israeli Law for a moment, we should ask according to Halacha: Who is obligated to serve in the defense of the State of Israel? The answer to that question is simple. Every Jew; whoever, however and wherever we can.

The Rambam (הלכות שבת ב׳:כג) codifies this Halacha in the context of Hilchos Shabbos, addressing the issue of who should break Shabbos to stop a militant invasion:

וּמִצְוָה עַל כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל שֶׁיְּכוֹלִין לָבוֹא וְלָצֵאת וְלַעֲזֹר לְאַחֵיהֶם שֶׁבַּמָּצוֹר וּלְהַצִּילָם מִיַּד הָעוֹבְדֵי כּוֹכָבִים וּמַזָּלוֹת בְּשַׁבָּת.

The mitzvah applies to every member of the Jewish people who can come [to their assistance] to go out and aid their brethren who are under siege and save them from the gentiles even if will violate the Sabbath.

Are Yeshiva students exempt from this? That’s at the center of the debate. But without doubt, we who live outside of Israel are not exempt.

All this is to say, that if you and me are not getting on a plane and offering our services to State of Israel and the IDF, we are also employing some kind of argument to exempt ourselves from this mitzvah.

Perhaps we feel that it is impossible to pack up and leave our families for an indefinite amount of time? But is that not exactly what we expect of the fathers who have spent months in Gaza and Lebanon? Why should their wives spend a year as single mothers, juggling their kids, expenses and careers?

Are the college courses and academic pursuits of Israeli soldiers less important than those in the US?

Perhaps we feel we are untrained. But is that really true? Is there nothing we can offer? So many wonderful members of our community have spend weeks and months packing bags or making BBQ’s. That’s also serving, and that mitzvah ends when the war ends.

As halachically observant Jews, we need to acknowledge that we share the obligation of Israel's defense with our brothers and sisters in Israel.

I suspect, however, that somewhere in our minds, consciously or unconsciously, we have already reached some kind of resolution, and goes something like this: “Our job is not to fight on the front lines. We are here to raise money and rally for political support. And when we are not actively engaged in these pursuits, the role of Diaspora Jews is to pray; to learn and to do mitzvos in the merit of our brave soldiers.”

This certainly has both merit and precedent. After all, in every army in history there have active soldiers as well as support staff.

Indeed, Rashi in our Parsha (יד:כד) tells us that when Avahram fought against the four kings, he left his friend Aner along with some others to watch and maintain their supplies.

So vital was this role, that Avraham insisted that they receive the same reward as the fighters. Rashi then writes that David HaMelech continued this practice with his army; dividing the spoils equally amongst the fighters and supporters.

But the Yid HaKadosh of Peshischa questions the fairness of this arrangement. Surely we should give more to the people risking their lives? No, he explains; those who are not actively fighting are not simply sitting around, taking it easy. At every free moment, they are the ones engaged in Torah, Tefillah and Chesed on behalf of Klal Yisrael; filling the gaps that have been left by the men on the front lines. They form a partnership with the Chayalim, giving them all that they need to win – both physically and spiritually.

I think that’s how we see ourselves. We’re not the fighters; we are the ones fulfilling our duty through support; Torah, Tefillah and Chesed.

In other words, in the US, we’re all Charedim.

And if this is true, then at the very least, we should be good Charedim; taking our learning and davening seriously. We should not be wasting time, hanging out, or schmoozing like bums outside the Beis Medrash. Klal Yisrael needs us, and this, it seems, is our chosen role.

My tefillah here is that perhaps, this year, if we work on being good Charedim, Hashem will help us to become good Zionists as well. After all, this is when The Journey begins: לֶךְ־לְךָ מֵאַרְצְךָ וּמִמּוֹלַדְתְּךָ וּמִבֵּית אָבִיךָ אֶל־הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אַרְאֶךָּ.