Opinion

We have arrived at Chanukah, believe it or not. The last two months have been other-worldly. It is hard to believe that the Yamim Nora’im was two months ago – it feels like years to me, almost another lifetime – prior to Simchas Torah. But arrived we have, and it is vital to take strength and lessons from Chanukah to help us gain from this incredible time we are going through.

War is a special time to be in Israel. It seems in so many ways like a different universe from the way things were just a little over a week ago. I don’t need to inform my readers of the awful events that we have seen and the very real threats we still face. I live less than five miles from the largest Air Force base in the North, and the incessant sound of planes coming and going is scary (but also music to my ears, as I appreciate how much the IDF is doing to protect us). I also don’t need to make you aware of the incredible coming together that most (see below) of the country is experiencing, in contrast to the terrible hatred and arguments that were tearing us apart till so recently. The outpouring of chesed and helping and aid from all parts of the Jewish world, both within Israel and coming in from abroad, the great increase in t’filah and Torah in solidarity with the soldiers makes one proud to be part of this timeless people.

Increasingly, I am a man without a country – or rather, a hashkafic home.

I have been thinking about this topic for a very long time. I discussed it in several articles in the past, but despaired of making a dent and gave up writing about it. Nevertheless, recent events have once again shown the crying need for people to speak out and reclaim the spiritual mooring that has been taken from us. We, the middle-of-the-road men and women who grew up in ordinary yeshivah-oriented homes and yeshivos, have been shunted aside and now struggle to find a hashkafic home.

Preparing this morning to go to shul for Simchas Torah in Beitar Illit, there were a few muffled explosions, but I didn’t think much of it – one often hears such noises. But then, the air raid siren went off, and I began to worry as I entered the mamad (secure room). Eventually, I decided to venture out to shul. The non-Jewish security guard said that there had been a terror incident in Beit Shemesh (information that turned out to be false). But then, in the middle of Shacharis, the siren went off again – and we all crowded into the shul bomb shelter. We ventured out, skipped hakafos, said Yizkor, and then another siren. And another. Eight sirens in all, over the next few hours. I never made it to hakafos, although things seemed to settle down towards the afternoon. Waiting to hear the news at the end of Yom Tov, my mind wandered to another Simchas Torah, 21 years ago.

The world has changed since Simchas Torah, when subhuman monsters murdered, raped, and beheaded our brothers and sisters and took so many unfortunates into captivity. In Israel, for the most part (see below), there is a tremendous unity of purpose and brotherhood to fight together for our national future. Unlike what was going on before October 7, when left and right, religious and secular, were at each other’s throats, there are now countless examples of Jews of all types coming together, appreciating each other, finding common ground as Jews, and hoping together for Hashem’s help. Many are hopeful that the necessary conditions are occurring that will hopefully lead to our final redemption, speedily in our days.

I am aghast.

I am seething with rage at the sheer stupidity, political blindness, and tone-deafness of the United Torah Judaism party. There have been many times in the past that I would pull my hair in my frustration at decisions they have made, or not made, when the times were crying out for a forceful statement or action. But this decision today has to be, by far, the worst possible decision that could have been made and will cause incalculable harm to all religious people, let alone be counter-productive to what they are trying to achieve.