On the 'Seam' Between Haredi Judaism and Religious Zionism

With God's help

Kipa Website – 2007

The question of how to distinguish between Haredi Judaism and Religious Zionism has troubled me for many years. It is hard to point to a single clear parameter that categorically distinguishes between these outlooks; that is, if a person says A, it is clear that he is Haredi, and if he argues "not A," then he is Religious Zionist.

There are differences in lifestyle, as well as in attitudes toward general education and, more broadly, toward the surrounding reality, but none of these is unequivocal. A person can be an educated Haredi, and even view education positively (in the "Torah with worldly engagement" approach of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch and his students). The differences in lifestyle, too, are not unequivocal; they are no more than statistical correlations.

What remains is the attitude toward the state. Ostensibly this is the natural candidate to serve as the defining parameter, but when one examines it more carefully, one sees that here too the situation is not so simple.

It seems that the root of the difference lies in a theological distinction: the Religious Zionist sees the state as an important stage on the way to redemption (without going into details), whereas the Haredi does not see it that way. But what is the practical implication of this difference? It seems there is none.

A Haredi person can (and indeed should) be a loyal citizen of the State of Israel, just as he would be loyal to Belgium or Australia, even without seeing the state as God's throne in the world, or as having any sort of significance in the process of redemption. Of course, if he sees it as the work of Satan and the like (in the style of Satmar and those disillusioned by the Disengagement who joined them), this is not possible, for he is under an obligation to fight it; but such an approach characterizes a negligible minority among those called "Haredim" in Israel.

Conversely, it seems that there are also quite a few of those who define themselves as "Religious Zionists" who are not committed to the state's messianic significance, and at the very least do not see it as important, certainly not on the practical plane.

If so, the distinction grounded in one's attitude toward the state remains the preserve of small minorities on both sides: on the one hand, the people of Har HaMor and Merkaz HaRav, who continue to adhere to the messianic approach to the state and to see dimensions of holiness in Jewish nationalism and its institutions; and on the other hand, the people of Satmar and Neturei Karta, who continue the struggle against the Zionist demon (or windmill). In between stands a very large camp, constituting the overwhelming majority of the religious sector, which does not identify with either of these detached extremes. This entire silent majority does not see any genuine religious value in the state and its institutions (sometimes it is not even aware of this itself; see below), even though it identifies with the state and regards it as important on the civic and national level. It feels loyalty and commitment to its success, for it is only natural to want the state in which you live to succeed in as many areas as possible, whether it is an expression of divinity or simply the state in which I live.

This is a camp that is Zionist in the same sense that the state's secular citizen is Zionist. It is happy to live among Jews in the Land of Israel. It feels loyal to the state and wants it to succeed, and also wants it to have a Jewish character (in some national sense). Of course it would like a fully Jewish state, but it understands that today this is only an abstract goal, and therefore that goal plays no part in its practical worldview. One may say that this camp has given up the hyphen in the expression "Religious-Zionist." It is Zionist, and it is also religious, but its Zionism is not religious but secular.

Despite all this, it seems that our theological-ideological map is still captive to these extreme conceptions, which long ago became obsolete. Almost every religious person in Israel feels obliged to define himself as Haredi or as Religious Zionist, and in so doing he submits to the artificial dichotomy that these two extreme poles are trying to impose on us. The reason is that the rabbinic leadership is unwilling to make room for this more complex pragmatic approach. The sense is that it is easier and more convenient to preserve this dichotomy, whether as social and cultural glue or as a source of power, each for his own reasons.

And so we continue to examine the teachings of Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook and the Satmar Rebbe, both of which long ago ceased to be relevant (in this area), and we live in the distant past instead of engaging with reality as it is today. The dispute between Haredi Judaism and Religious Zionism continues and periodically intensifies, as if we were still in an age when there was a struggle over the character of Zionism and of religious Judaism—that is, nearly a hundred years ago. Like Don Quixote fighting against inert windmills, the religious sector is divided and polarized over questions that long ago ceased to be relevant.

There are other questions, far more important than the attitude toward the state, that should be addressed today. The question of the ways of studying Torah (multiple layers. eye-level reading. academic scholarship and yeshiva study). The status of "secular studies." The status of women. The functioning of the rabbinical courts (or, more precisely, their speedy closure, together with the Chief Rabbinate, speedily in our days, amen), and so on.

On these questions, it is possible to form camps that are not polarized specifically around the Haredi-Zionist "seam." That stubborn and anachronistic "seam" prevents us from discussing these questions on their own merits, because we always return to those ancient labels and to the theological question—devoid of content and meaning—of one's attitude toward the state. Matters remain on the plane of power struggles and historical proofs (in the style of "we told you so"), and that is a shame.

The time has come to shake the dust off the conceptual world in which we live, and to begin seeing the present with realistic eyes rather than through wishful thinking and fantasies, messianic or satanic. Most of us already live this way and feel this way, and it is a shame that this has not risen to awareness and found expression in the discourse, where the aforementioned anachronistic dichotomy still reigns.