Frayed Relations

By BLAKE LAMBERT

REAL JEWS
Secular vs. Ultra-Orthodox and the Struggle for Jewish Identity in Israel
By Noah Efron
320 pages. Basic Books. $27.50.

What fascinates Noah Efron of Bar-Ilan University is not the clash between secular and religious Jews in Israel—which he traces back to the late 18th-century rift in Germany between "maskilim" (proponents of the Enlightenment) and traditionalists—but rather the obsession of the Hiloniim (secular Jews) with the Haredim (ultra-Orthodox). Born into an Orthodox family, Efron writes in his book Real Jews that he never experienced anti-Semitism before moving to Israel. The turning point in his life, which informs much of his work, occurred during the first Gulf War in 1991 when he overheard two students at Tel Aviv University saying that Bnei Barak, a Haredi city, should suffer a chemical attack and that it would be amusing to tie the residents down and forcibly shave off their beards. These comments offended Efron, whose grandparents lived in Bnei Barak, and led him on a ten year journey to examine why secular hatred for Haredim has grown so strong.

Much of the hatred, it must be said, is unjustified. Efron, who lives in Tel Aviv, argues secular perception of Haredi behavior makes it appear "more debauched, despicable and dangerous than it actually is." He does admit, however, that Haredim engage in behavior that is destructive to the country.

In 1977, Prime Minister Menachem Begin, in return for the support of Haredi political parties, increased the funding for Haredi schools and removed the limits on the number of military exemptions for youth studying in religious academies. As a result, Israeli Haredim, unlike their American counterparts, became a society of learners where all males are expected to fulfill the ideal of toratam omanutam,"Torah is their vocation." Sixty percent of Haredi men between the ages of 25 to 54 do not work, which is up 40 percent from 20 years ago. The Israeli Treasury estimates $250 million to $300 million per year is lost because of the unlimited military deferrals. As Efron reports, most Haredi men are supported entirely by government handouts, and those that do work earn very little and thus pay relatively little in taxes. For secular Israelis, the conclusion is unavoidable: Haredim are a drain on the economy.

Meanwhile, Haredi influence extends into the personal lives of all Israelis. Thanks to a 1953 law, which enshrined power granted to religious leaders during the Ottoman Empire and the British Mandate, Haredim control all matters of birth and death, marriage, conversion, and adoptions. "Rabbis have installed themselves, by law, as gatekeepers and toll collectors at important junctions and junctures. You marry only at their pleasure; you divorce only at their pleasure," Efron writes. Israeli Jews who choose to observe the rites of Reform and Conservative Judaism encounter frustration, as the Haredi religious gatekeepers refuse to acknowledge the legitimacy of these movements in Israel.

On those two counts alone, secular Israelis have firm grounds to criticize Haredim. Certainly, the criticism often veers off into ugly stereotypes, but Efron's argument that this overheated rhetoric is anti-Semitism smacks of naiveté. Israeli debate on key issues almost always suffers from extreme and inflammatory imagery: the right-wing portrayed Yitzhak Rabin as a Nazi for his acceptance of the Oslo Accords; Shimon Peres has been labeled a war criminal who must stand trial for his role in the Oslo process; and popular bumper stickers in Jerusalem boast "No Arabs, no terrorist attacks."

The offensive articles and cartoons cited by Efron express the extent to which mainstream Israeli society is intolerant rather than inclusive. Nonetheless, equating this intolerance with anti-Semitism, as Efron does, overstates the case: secular rage against Haredim isn't entirely illegitimate. And in light of the toxic sludge of hate that has infected sizeable portions of the Arab and Muslim worlds in the last two or three years, the domestic anti-Semitism that obsesses Efron seems almost quaint.

Of course, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict shunted the culture war aside many months ago. As victims of Palestinian violence, Haredim have become part of the national consensus. They may not serve in the IDF, but they do the unthinkable after lethal attacks: they collect the shreds of human remains in the streets to give the dead a proper burial. Still, because secular Israel needs an "other" to define what it is not, Efron is not certain how long this goodwill will last. "When for a time, our nightmares are fully populated by Palestinians, then we may feel more generosity of spirit towards Haredim," he writes. "But should Palestinians come again to seem more benign, I expect that this generosity will evaporate."

LIVING WORDS V
A Source Book on Israel In a Time of Struggle
Edited by Susan Berrin
162 pages. JFL Books. $25.

Editor's note: "Living Words V" is published by a Jewish Family & Life! affiliate.

While secular and Haredi Jews may have found common ground during the last three years, many American Jews have been struggling to define their relationship with Israel at this difficult time. Living Words V can serve as a guide for the perplexed. It asks a critical question: Why should American Jews care about Israel? The majority of Living Words, through sermons from the High Holidays in 2002, explores the reasons American Jews maintain an emotional connection to an embattled democracy numerous time zones away. For Rabbi Laura Geller, Israel defines the collective Jewish experience. "What happens in Israel is our story...wherever we have chosen to live," she writes. "We are the writers and the main characters—all of us."

Living Words V assumes all its readers are committed to Israel; those who feel this commitment will benefit from the book's analysis, especially the sermons. The writings on Jerusalem are sharp, outlining how it is equal parts love and hate, a place where holiness trumps humanity. Anyone who has ever set foot in the Holy City in recent years will relate to Rabbi Edward Rettig's evocative description. "Jerusalem is ill. It suffers from an overdose of metaphor. A real city, it has concrete homes, traffic jams and ordinary people trying to salvage real lives from the conflagration."

The book presumes readers have a significant understanding of traditional sources and have dutifully followed the stream of news and debate from Israel—which perhaps makes it most well-suited to an audience entrenched in the American Jewish world. Intriguing material is interspersed with some features more useful for Jewish communal professionals than for lay readers (like educational models for examining how American Jewish educators and their Israeli counterparts instruct their students).

Nevertheless, Living Words remains a highly readable and engaging collection that will enlighten readers about the complicated relations between American Jews and the Holy Land.