Drafting Yeshiva Students: In Those Days, at This Time (Column 609)

With God’s help

Disclaimer: This post was translated from Hebrew using AI (ChatGPT 5 Thinking), so there may be inaccuracies or nuances lost. If something seems unclear, please refer to the Hebrew original or contact us for clarification.

Know that this matter should not have required an explanation,

for since the Talmudic expression is that six hundred and thirteen commandments

were given to Moses at Sinai, how can we say of something rabbinic

that it is included in the count? Yet we were prompted to address it because many have erred in it…

(Rambam, beginning of Root 1)

In response to the public’s repeated requests—and especially in light of the ratings promised to me in advance—I decided to write a column about drafting yeshiva students. I admit it is embarrassing that one even has to write about a matter so simple and self-evident, but apparently there are many for whom it is not. One could apply here the Rambam’s words at the start of Root 1 quoted above. There he rules that rabbinic commandments are not counted among the 613, yet because this is self-evident he nonetheless addressed it since many (following the Bahag) erred about it. Don’t be surprised if few sources are cited here, certainly not from later decisors. Beyond the fact that in first-order rulings sources are often superfluous except as illustrations, here—precisely because of the simplicity of the matter—this is all the more true. As I wrote, the conclusions are as obvious as daylight, and plain common sense leads straight to them. In such cases, leaning on sources is unnecessary.

The Trigger: “Three things are too wondrous for me, and four I do not understand”

This topic has resurfaced in recent weeks during the “Swords of Iron” war, as the media reports the enlistment of thousands of ultra-Orthodox yeshiva students, with thousands more wanting to join the war effort but unable to do so. It is no wonder there are also some hysterical outbursts by Haredi leaders against the matter. Haredi society is in peril.

The dynamics of social processes are a riddle that strikes me again and again. Why and how does a young and not-particularly-wise girl like Greta, the Swede, become an international superstar who manages to move global processes of climate protection? Why is it that the more violent and shameful Palestinian terror becomes, the better their PR (and the worse ours)—and that among the “liberals”? Why does this or that “useful idiot” become an international star to whom everyone eagerly listens? How do storms erupt from every meaningless triviality (like Bibi’s “Eleh ha-chayim,” and so on)? Why do the slogans of each side in political and moral disputes sound foolish to me and yet sweep up frenzied masses? And more and more. As for our matter, I do not understand why precisely now, in the least threatening and dangerous war we have fought, there arise within the Haredi community the natural emotion and awareness of that basic duty to bear the burden together with the general public. In Column 605 I already wrote about the role of emotion in all these phenomena, but it still requires explanation.

It seems to be the result of a confluence of circumstances, such as the Haredi public’s emergence from the media bubble in which it lived until recent years (it is no accident that they fight so fiercely against an unfiltered internet—this is what every self-respecting dictatorship does)[1]; Haredim entering the workforce and professional training, which creates encounters with other populations and also reduces their economic dependence on the Haredi establishment; add to this the horrifying images from the massacre in the Gaza Envelope, the mobilization of the entire Israeli public the likes of which we have not seen even in previous periods and wars (which has its own reasons), and more. These processes—whose triggers are primarily emotional, of course—also led to some awakening from those semi-hallucinations and shabby uses of aphorisms like “Torah protects and saves” and/or “Torah scholars do not require guarding,” to Rambam’s “Tribe of Levi,” and the rest of those sacred, unassailable principles that are applied only in one area of Haredi life: army service. You won’t see anyone waving them when facing illness, or financial distress, political threats, and the like. In all those cases, everyone dutifully recites the slogans—but only after they have fulfilled the duty of “hishtadlut” (effort) with the desired and most elevated punctiliousness. For some reason, however, security threats do not frighten the Haredim (so long as there are “suckers” to bear the burden for them, of course. Effort, effort… even the Almighty needs agents, more or less faithful). There the situation is reversed: in their holy devotion to Torah they “protect us all,” while we only “ruin” their pursuits. Who said we even need an army to defend against a security threat?!

Well, as noted, in these days it seems the time of song has arrived, and signs of sobering are appearing at the gates of the draft offices. On the margins of this welcome phenomenon, I wonder when the bizarre ideology and theology of conservative Judaism will also go the way of all flesh, straight after the theses that underlie draft-dodging (see below). Perhaps a prophetic spirit fell upon me when I titled my theological leanings No One Has Power Over the Wind. Who can understand the wind and its courses?! Happily, it seems that even without control and without understanding the processes, “A Great Wind Is Coming.” So I decided to add my small contribution to that wind and touch on those barren and ridiculous theses which, like earthenware vessels, are purified by breaking—and they have no “breaking” but a knife.

In this column I will not enter the great theological questions—bitachon and hishtadlut (trust vs. effort), providence and divine involvement in the world, and the like—for two main reasons: (1) I have done so more than once; (2) what I will write here does not depend on them. The analysis and conclusions here are valid even for those who still hold to those odd dogmas. Needless to say, my “lean” theology only strengthens the conclusions I will reach here.

Point of Departure: “Shall your brothers go to war while you sit here?!”

The starting point of the discussion is the moral and civic duty of every person or group to bear the burden together with the other components of society—including the military burden. This is true for any society, Jewish or otherwise, since it is a basic moral principle. Of course, it also has halakhic expressions such as “the law of the kingdom is the law” or obligations to communal ordinances, but these are merely expressions of that self-evident meta-halakhic principle. Therefore, the burden of proof rests on those who wish to exempt themselves from this duty, not on those who call for fulfilling it. They must justify their stance and conduct, which deviate from that obligation. This is all the more true with regard to people who receive services from society and enjoy the equality of rights it offers all its citizens; needless to say, everyone is obligated to pay the “consideration.” It is unreasonable to enjoy the rights and not carry the burden of the obligations. At times one senses that this fundamental basis is missing in Haredi thinking—though in many Haredim (as individuals) it certainly exists—even if in the public discourse there is every effort to conceal it (aside from the aforesaid “outbursts” that repeatedly expose it to all).

Somehow this duty is translated into a halakhic obligation to participate in war, and the discussion revolves around that halakhic-philosophic issue. That, of course, drags us into the tiresome and irrelevant debate about the status of Israel’s wars today and the obligation to be drafted into them—are these “obligatory wars” or not, who is obligated in an obligatory war, and so on. This is utter nonsense and does not touch our discussion (for, as noted, the burden of proof lies on whoever tries to escape, not on those who claim there is an obligation to participate). Still, for the same reasons given by the Rambam in the column’s motto, I will briefly touch this as well.

At the start of chapter 5 of the Laws of Kings and Their Wars, the Rambam lists three types of obligatory war:

The king first fights only an obligatory war. And what is an obligatory war? The war against the seven nations, the war against Amalek, and delivering Israel from the hand of an oppressor who comes against them. Only afterward does he fight an optional war, which is a war fought with other nations in order to expand the borders of Israel and magnify the king’s greatness and reputation.

For an obligatory war the king need not consult the Sanhedrin; he mobilizes the people at his discretion (or, there, with the consent of the court). By contrast, an optional war requires a process of authorization. Arguments arise from time to time that today we have no Sanhedrin, Urim and Thummim, or prophet, and it is doubtful whether we may engage in an optional war; this raises the question of the obligatory war of delivering Israel from an oppressor. Again: it is obvious that our wars are not optional wars, and debating this on the basis of sources is bizarre. Are we speaking of expanding borders and magnifying the king’s greatness?! It therefore emerges, as the Rambam says, that delivering Israel from an oppressor is an obligatory war, and on the face of it that is precisely what we are dealing with in our day (with our “king” for this purpose being the government).

Yet in the next chapter the Rambam lists only the other two types (ch. 6, law 4):

If they do not make peace, or they make peace but do not accept the seven Noahide commandments, we wage war against them, kill all the adult males, and plunder all their property and children; we do not kill a woman or a minor, as it says, “and the women and the little ones”—this refers to male children. When are these words said? In an optional war, which is with other nations; but in the case of the seven nations and Amalek who did not make peace, we do not leave any soul alive, as it says, “So shall you do to all… Only from the cities of these peoples you shall not let any soul live,” and concerning Amalek, “you shall blot out the remembrance of Amalek.” And from where do we know this speaks only of those who did not make peace? As it says, “There was not a city that made peace with the children of Israel, except the Hivites who dwelt in Gibeon; they took all in battle, for it was from the Lord to harden their hearts to meet Israel in battle, in order to utterly destroy them”—from which we learn that they sent them demands for peace and they did not accept.

What about delivering Israel from an oppressor? Is that not an obligatory war? It is fairly clear that in such a case we do not first offer peace, for we have no time and must preempt and kill them. Yet the Rambam does not address this type here, and I think not by accident. Delivering Israel from an oppressor is not an obligatory war, at least not in the same sense as the wars against Amalek and the seven nations. Those are wars whose aim is to fulfill a commandment; that command is the motive for waging them. Without it we would not consider such a war (except perhaps as an optional war). But delivering Israel from an oppressor is done in order to defend and protect our lives, and we would do so even without any command. Of course there is an element of the commandment to preserve life, but the war is not waged for the commandment or by its force. Put differently: unlike the Amalek and seven-nation wars, even were there no commandment, we would fight in self-defense. From time to time a heretical thought crosses my mind: before the Hasmonean court expounded “until it is subdued”—even on Shabbat (Shabbat 19a)—did Jews not fight on Shabbat but serenely surrender to slaughter while humming Shabbat melodies?

The conclusion is that delivering Israel from an oppressor is a third kind of war: neither optional nor truly “obligatory” in that sense. Moreover, I have written more than once (see, for example, my article here) that it is in fact incorrect to treat such a war as a “war” in the halakhic sense. It need not be conducted by the halakhic parameters of war. It is a matter of saving life, and therefore the needs of defense dictate what must be done: who goes out, what authorization process is required, and so on. There is no difference between a nation going out to a defensive war and a private individual defending his life. It is merely a matter of pikuach nefesh—saving life—nothing more.

The practical consequence concerns all the debates about who goes out to war. Many cite that in an obligatory war even a groom from his chamber and a bride from her canopy go out, and perhaps even Torah scholars are not exempt. But these are empty and pointless debates. This is not a halakhic discussion but a factual one. Whatever is required to defend—that is what must be done. If the public holds that for this war everyone is needed, then everyone must go. Would you imagine that we should be defeated in war because the rules require that grooms or Torah scholars not go out? These are ordinary considerations of saving life; there is no need to cite sources. It reminds me of a story I heard from a friend who was a tank officer in the First Lebanon War: he arrived at an emergency depot, received a tank platoon, and was ordered to drive on tracks into Lebanon until he reached his battalion. As is known, chaos reigned; along the way more and more lost soldiers joined him until a convoy formed. In the end they reached the battalion an hour before the ceasefire (after a few days wandering in Lebanon). He told me that when he organized night guard duty, there were career soldiers who informed him they do not stand guard because they are career personnel (as is customary in the army). It was not a war; apparently the privileges of career soldiers and their regulations are sacred.

Beyond all this, the parameters here should not differ between Israel and any other nation. The State of Israel—even if King David himself headed it—should conduct itself in this matter like any other state and by the same logic and rules; likewise, my duty as a Jew, whether a kollel fellow or not, secular or religious, to participate in a defensive war exists even if I am a Belgian or Tanzanian citizen. It is not tied to my being Israeli or to the fact that this is the Jewish state. It is the duty of a citizen to the society and state in which he lives, in self-defense against threats that also threaten him.

From all this you can understand that considerations of saving life dictate how we conduct ourselves in these wars, and these are not halakhic but factual matters. Halakhah permits everything before pikuach nefesh, but beyond that, determining whether a given situation is life-threatening and what is required to address it are factual-security considerations, not halakhic ones. Therefore the debates and sources that are endlessly chewed over in these contexts are devoid of value and meaning.

For the same reason, there is no need to discuss whether we are a Jewish state, whether this is defending Israel from an oppressor, whether we have a “king” (the government) today, etc. None of this is relevant. Any person or group in danger may and must defend themselves with all means at their disposal. The one thing that is perhaps relevant is Moses’ rebuke to the tribes of Gad and Reuben (Numbers 32:6):

“Shall your brothers go to war while you sit here?!”

This is not, of course, a halakhic citation but a moral rebuke—and that is exactly what is relevant to our discussion.

It seems to me that the very resort to sources and multiplying casuistry is like someone who asks a question in the laws of saving life on Shabbat—where the very discussion and question are disgraceful (Jerusalem Talmud, Yoma 8:5):

We desecrate Shabbat for saving a life. And one who hastens is praiseworthy. One need not seek authorization from the court. And one who is consulted is reprehensible, and the one who asks is a shedder of blood.

Later on I will nonetheless conduct this foolish discussion—for the reasons expressed in the column’s motto—but really I should have said here: “Why do you cry out to Me? Tell the children of Israel to go forward.”

The Framework of the Discussion: The Justifications

As noted, the duty to bear the military burden is self-evident and does not require halakhic debate and sources. It is simply saving life. One might argue that the army does not need all the young people who enlist—which may be true. But that still does not mean the Haredim or students should be exempt. If that is indeed the case, then conscript only 60% of the youths—but every sector must carry its share of the existing burden. This is the starting point: there is an obligation on everyone to bear the burden. What remains is to move to the question of the justifications for non-enlistment.

If I lay out the basic infrastructure of Haredi arguments against enlistment, I think it rests on four main components: (1) fear of “corruption”; (2) opposition to Zionism and the state; (3) the value of Torah study; (4) Torah as a substitute for defense—“Torah scholars do not require guarding” (for themselves) and “Torah protects and saves” (they also protect society at large).

As we will see, the different arguments attempt to justify non-enlistment of different groups and scopes. The first and second are the broadest, as they seek to exempt all Haredim. The third is the narrowest, as it speaks only of the “elite” (a common term in this discourse, meaning a carefully filtered minority) who should be exempt. The fourth speaks of a mid-sized group—everyone who studies.

I will now discuss each in turn.

1. Fear of “corruption”

In my estimation, at least these days (and perhaps it has always been so), if you think honestly you will find that the first argument is the main one. There is a fear that a Haredi youth who enlists will be exposed to people and ideas outside the camp, threatening the “purity of his outlook,” and thus the entire Haredi society (risk of attrition). They do not talk about this much in the media, since it broadcasts weakness and fear (as opposed to the self-assured messaging typically presented from that direction), but this is the bitter truth. Once this claim is exposed (usually they try to conceal it), it appears reasonable and logical. They are not shirkers; rather, they claim the right to protect their way of life and live according to their understanding, and if the army threatens that, it is reasonable that they will refuse to enlist.

One can, to be sure, propose protected service tracks (with rabbinic oversight, political commissars, and mashgichim, as customary there), as indeed has occurred in recent years, but Haredi society—justifiably—is very wary even of those. The attitude to such tracks is two-faced, a very Haredi way for those in the know: outwardly they say it is legitimate, while internally they signal that it is strictly forbidden and that one should not marry into families who go there. The reason is that it is impossible to create a full Haredi bubble within the army. Some encounter with other populations is unavoidable, and that creates a great threat to Haredi life—and reality bears this out. As a factual matter, there is indeed a fairly high chance that a Haredi youth will be “corrupted” in the army. It is true that in many cases the “corruption” is the cause of his enlistment rather than its result (this is a common mistake in discussions of the draft). Still, slamming the door on enlistment is a Haredi instrument for guarding their youth.

It is important to understand that although this argument appears, on its face, the most reasonable and acceptable (at least it is not a fabrication like the other three), upon further reflection it is entirely baseless. The fact that you are likely to be “corrupted”—that is, that your ideology and principles are threatened—does not justify shirking your civic duties to the society in which you live, certainly so long as the service does not directly contravene your convictions but merely poses certain risks. That duty obligates you to risk your principles. There is no justification for others to risk their lives for you because you have such-and-such principles (you do not wish to be “corrupted”). I too have a very basic principle—that I do not wish to die. Does that justify my not enlisting? Are an important Haredi individual’s eating strictly-supervised kosher or not seeing a woman in pants more important than my life? Just as I may not steal others’ money to heal myself or cope with threats to my lifestyle and views, so too here: my threats and risks are my problem, not anyone else’s. If there are such threats, you should try to establish an optimal service track for yourself—but within that, you must bear the burden. In recent years this has been done somewhat, but the public discourse around it is bizarre: somehow it seems that this is the state’s interest, and the Haredim are merely doing us a favor and deserve gratitude. In truth, it ought to be the Haredi society’s interest to fulfill its duty to society and state, not the state’s and/or army’s interest. Everything here is upside-down.

I will add that I am very troubled by the assertiveness with which people advance this claim—even with a certain pride at their honesty (that they are willing to admit weakness)—and the expectation of gratitude for those who do enlist and for the far-reaching “compromises” (?!) they are willing to make as part of service. It seems they lack the basic moral understanding that guarding your principles does not justify having others give their lives for you and that there is a moral (and halakhic) duty to bear the burden with the public. You are not serving for “them” but for society as a whole—which includes you as well. Even among those who wish to enlist there somehow persists the sense that service is an obligation toward the outside public (cf. “gratitude”). This naturally brings us to the next three points.

2. Ideology and theology

The second basis I presented is ideological—the attitude toward the State of Israel and Zionism. This was the talk before the state’s founding and among the Haredi ideological vanguard in its early years, but today it is typically denied emphatically in outward discourse (aside from uncontrollable outbursts like this one by R. Bunim Schreiber and several others by the vile Eichler, or this one by Rabbi Dov Lando, and so on). Many think that even if it exists somewhere in the background, it plays no role in justifying non-enlistment.

I disagree, first because the matter began with it and also because it still depends on it. Even today, when the talk about Zionism and the state is more muted, in my view this is a central component in justifying non-enlistment—especially inwardly. Even if it is not much stated outwardly and even if not a few deny it with respect to themselves, a Haredi youth must justify to himself not bearing the burden, and claims like “What have we to do with them?” or “They caused the problems, and we should fight and risk ourselves on account of that?” help him. An atmosphere of estrangement and non-partnership eases the conscience regarding the draft, even without formulating it as an ideological principle and without stating it explicitly.

3. The value of Torah study

The third argument is the value of Torah study and the claim that Torah growth requires full devotion, so enlistment would very much interfere. Here they bring the exemptions granted to athletes and artists, and the argument arises: “Shall the priestess be like a barmaid?!” Surely Torah study is no less important than these pursuits. It should be noted that non-Haredim (including myself) share this argument—but of course it can justify exempting a far smaller number of students, not a blanket exemption for Haredim, nor even for all who study Torah. In Column 34 I explained that on this basis I certainly think it proper to exempt a certain number of carefully vetted students who are suited to Torah growth (what is commonly called the “elite”), exempting them from army service and from earning a livelihood. But even this is an exemption society grants those students also for its own sake, not a right due to anyone by law or that he may demand. Our topic here is exemption by right; therefore I will not enter the question of setting a specific number.

In this context (and not in discussing the fourth argument), the well-known words of the Rambam at the end of his Laws of Sabbatical and Jubilee Years are brought, where he writes:

And why did Levi not merit a share in the Land of Israel and its spoils along with his brothers? Because he was set apart to serve the Lord, to minister to Him and to teach His upright ways and righteous judgments to the many, as it is said, “They shall teach Jacob Your judgments and Israel Your Torah.” Therefore they were separated from the ways of the world: they do not wage war like the rest of Israel, nor do they inherit or acquire for themselves by the strength of their bodies. Rather, they are the army of the Lord, as it is said, “Bless, O Lord, his army.” And He, blessed be He, provides for them, as it is said, “I am your portion and your inheritance.”

And not the tribe of Levi alone, but any person from among all the inhabitants of the world whose spirit generously moves him and whose wisdom has brought him to set himself apart to stand before the Lord, to minister to Him, to serve Him, to know the Lord; and who goes straight as God made him, and casts off from his neck the yoke of the many calculations that people seek—such a person is sanctified as holy of holies. The Lord will be his portion and inheritance forever and ever; He will provide for him in this world with what suffices him, just as He granted to the priests and Levites. As David, peace be upon him, says: “The Lord is my allotted portion and my cup; You support my lot.”

As is known, the Rambam tends to insert aggadic “vorts” at the end of his halakhic compilations. No vort has been quoted and used more than this one. In any event, one sees here that Torah scholars are exempt from efforts to earn a livelihood and from waging war, and of course also from owning property.

It has already been noted that the stance which uses this Rambam cherry-picks special exemptions and neglects the others. It is hard to say of an ordinary kollel fellow that he is one who has cast off the yoke of the many calculations people seek, who walks straight as God made him, who is uninterested in property and ownership, and whose entire life is sanctified to study. Even among the most diligent learners, very few truly meet this magnificent description. But even if most do not meet the criteria (the duties), they nonetheless feel free to enjoy the rights: principally exemption from army service and, to a degree, exemption from livelihood (though much effort goes into ensuring there is no need for such effort; the state and society are supposed to replace the Almighty in providing their sustenance).

In parentheses I will note that the Rambam’s words in the Laws of Torah Study (3:10)—which are not an aggadic vort but a halakhic ruling (in the Rambam’s view; personally I am very doubtful here)—are less frequently quoted by the Haredim:

Anyone who sets his heart on studying Torah and not working, and sustains himself from charity—such a person desecrates the Name, dishonors the Torah, extinguishes the light of religion, and brings evil upon himself, and forfeits life in the World to Come. For it is forbidden to derive benefit from words of Torah in this world. The Sages said: “Anyone who benefits from words of Torah forfeits his life from the world.” And they further commanded: “Do not make them a crown with which to magnify yourself, nor a spade with which to dig.” And they further commanded: “Love work and hate authority.” Any Torah that is not accompanied by work will in the end be nullified and lead to sin, and in the end such a person will rob people.

Here they prefer to rule like the Kesef Mishneh on the spot. Well, he relies on the fact that many tried and did not succeed—but exemption from service does indeed “succeed,” so why not?!

One may wonder—even aside from the Haredim—how the Rambam’s statements cohere. I think that in the Laws of Sabbatical and Jubilee Years he speaks of people like Ben Azzai and Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, who truly cast off the yoke of worldly calculations, do not engage in livelihood or efforts, and hand themselves over entirely to the Almighty. Such people scarcely exist—neither then nor now. It is only a principled assertion and the presentation of some utopian model. By contrast, in the Laws of Torah Study he speaks of those who are not like Ben Azzai and Rashbi, who do engage in livelihood and efforts—like all of us—but think to derive their livelihood from Torah study. Such people, in his view, desecrate the Name, dishonor the Torah, and extinguish the light of religion, and in the end rob the public. Personally I do not agree with the Rambam here, but if one relies on the Rambam’s view, he must ask himself which of the two categories he belongs to; in particular this should be examined with respect to the Haredi public that cites the Rambam in the Laws of Sabbatical and Jubilee Years and apparently assigns itself—and all its fellows—to the first category.

Incidentally, if one adopts a new social covenant that exempts a small number of learners suited to it, they can be considered the “Tribe of Levi” even if they do not meet the Rambam’s criteria. It is an exemption granted by society also for itself, and it has the right to do so even in a poor generation like ours in which we do not have such Levites who cast off the yoke of the many calculations of human beings. The discussion here is about those whom society does not exempt on this basis, but about a sweeping exemption by force of coalition pressures and ideological and other principles as listed here—in other words, a demand for exemption as an acquired right.

4. Torah as a substitute for defense

The final argument is that those who study protect us all, and therefore they are in fact contributing their share. This is the main Haredi line of propaganda, spoken much inwardly but no less important outwardly—because it is relatively easy to defend. Not because the outside listeners will necessarily agree (they won’t), but because they will at least understand that this is not simple shirking. When you are accused of shirking, the best defense is offense: I am the one who truly protects. And why do you not bear the burden of Torah study? You are the shirkers, for without it we cannot survive here.

As I wrote above, this section divides into two distinct claims: (a) “Torah scholars do not require guarding”—that is, army protection is needed only by ordinary citizens, not by Torah students; they are guarded by their Torah. Consequently they have no duty to contribute to defense, for they are not its “clients” (as if they were citizens of a different country for this purpose). (b) “Torah protects and saves.” This can also be understood similarly—that Torah protects and saves one who engages in it, which returns us to the previous point. But the way this phrase is used in the draft debate is that Torah also protects and saves society at large. That is, the claim is not only that kollel fellows are exempt because they do not need guarding, but that they in fact carry their share of the burden of guarding by their study, thereby protecting us all. The pious add that Torah is the true protector of us all, and the army is merely the “hishtadlut.” The hishtadlut thesis is a fascinating and unfounded invention—a jumble of logical contradictions, baseless fabrications, and shabby excuses that cover for a lack of faith in conservative dogmas (“everything is in Heaven’s hands”). I have elaborated on it more than once (see, for example, Column 279 and many others). Here I will therefore focus on the thesis of Torah study as “guarding.”

In this discussion we must first distinguish between aggadic and halakhic sources. “Torah protects and saves” is an aggadic statement, and any practical—certainly halakhic—conclusion drawn from it is very tentative. By contrast, “Torah scholars do not require guarding” appears in halakhic contexts and has halakhic ramifications.

“Torah protects and saves”

In Sotah 21a the Talmud discusses the protective power of commandments and Torah, and says both protect, but Torah more so:

As it is taught: R. Menachem b. Yose expounded, “For a commandment is a lamp and the Torah is light.” Scripture attached the commandment to a lamp and the Torah to light. It attached the commandment to a lamp to tell you: just as a lamp protects only temporarily, so too a commandment protects only temporarily; and the Torah to light to tell you: just as light protects forever, so too the Torah protects forever. And it says: “When you walk, it will guide you”—this is in this world; “when you lie down, it will watch over you”—this is death; “and when you awake, it will speak with you”—in the World to Come. A parable: A person walking in the dead of night, afraid of thorns, pits, thistles, wild animals, and bandits, and he does not know which path he is on. If a torch of fire chances upon him, he is saved from the thorns, pits, and thistles, yet he still fears wild animals and bandits and does not know which path he is on. When dawn breaks, he is saved from wild animals and bandits, yet he still does not know which path he is on. When he reaches a crossroads, he is saved from all. Another matter: A transgression extinguishes a commandment, but a transgression does not extinguish Torah, as it says: “Many waters cannot quench love.” R. Yosef said: A commandment, at the time one is engaged in it, protects and saves; when one is not engaged in it, it protects but does not save. Torah, whether one is engaged in it or not, protects and saves. Raba challenged: But Doeg and Ahitophel—did they not engage in Torah? Why then did it not protect them? Rather, said Rava: Torah, at the time one is engaged in it, protects and saves; when one is not engaged in it, it protects but does not save. A commandment, whether one is engaged in it or not, protects but does not save.

Incidentally, even there the discussion concerns protection of the person studying, not of the collective. One could, to be sure, bring other sources speaking of the merit of study and its benefit to those who support learners, and perhaps even to society at large. In any case, the meaning of that protection is not simple. Are there not Torah students who suffer harms of various kinds? The Talmud itself wonders about Doeg and Ahitophel and offers answers. Accept them or not—one does not refute a homily. In any event, as with all aggadah it is difficult to derive a clear conclusion, certainly regarding how much Torah must be studied for it to protect, to what extent it protects, and whom it protects. Does anyone stop taking medicine or going to work because “Torah protects and saves”? (Yes, yes, the “duty of hishtadlut.” And with respect to the army there is supposedly no such duty—I know.) Add to this what I have often written: even if all this were stated, the outlooks of the Sages do not obligate and are not necessarily correct; only the halakhah they ruled has formal force.

For my part, I too think “Torah protects and saves”—but not necessarily in a mystical sense; rather in a natural one. It is what protects Judaism, and thereby our survival as a people. Challah-separations or second-hakafot probably won’t do the job. This is a significant argument also for our discussion, since for this reason I indeed support granting an exemption to a reasonable number of serious students. I once offered the parable of the poor Chinese man who received two pennies for charity and bought with them a loaf of bread and a flower. When asked why he did not buy two slices of bread, he replied: the bread is to live, but the flower is to have something to live for. The value of our survival as a people lies only in Judaism. Without that, of course every human life has value—but I see not a shred of value in national survival as such.

“Torah scholars do not require guarding”

The source lies in the tax discussions in the first chapter of Bava Batra. The structure of the laws of taxation is complex, and the main question is how to apportion participation in public needs among citizens. Let me preface what I have remarked in the past: I am not at all certain these are halakhic sugyot. They are norms the Sages enacted wearing their hat as representatives of the public, not as decisors (like communal ordinances). The fact that these laws found their way into halakhic codes is the result of the historical accident by which we lost the monarchy and the secular authority (the monarchy) and halakhic authority (the Sanhedrin) merged. If so, one may learn nothing halakhically from there; the rulings are not binding. The fact is that in the matter of communal ordinances and taxes, no one practices as per the Shulchan Aruch but according to accepted custom—and no one is troubled by this. See on this Column 164 and elsewhere.

One of the principles presented there is that, at least regarding some matters, participation in public needs is according to the measure of benefit one derives (see here for a survey by my former student, Rabbi Yair Aton). Thus, for example, a wealthy person benefits more from a wall that protects against robbers and therefore must contribute more money toward it than a poor person; likewise, a family with many children benefits more from educational institutions, etc. By this principle, a Torah scholar who is protected personally by the Torah he has learned and learns is exempt from contributing to security expenses, since he does not need them. Note: this exemption does not derive from the notion that his Torah protects us all but that it protects him. The claim that he protects society is an additional claim—and it is hard to find clear support for it in those Talmudic sugyot.

In chapter 5 of his essay, Rabbi Aton discusses the exemption of Torah scholars from security expenditures. He presents three arguments there:

1. The exemption from guarding is because they do not need it. According to this, it is not an exemption specifically for Torah scholars but an application of the general principle of contribution according to need. Indeed, the Talmud there makes clear that there are Torah scholars who do contribute to expenses (not to guarding itself, Heaven forbid—“that is not a job for Jews,” as the Gashash Hahiver quipped) in cases where they, too, need guarding. The question is whether, in our case, we are speaking of people who do not need guarding. Do they also not call the police when a thief enters their home, and not seek a livelihood when in financial distress? The selective use of the principle “Torah scholars do not require guarding” is problematic.

Beyond this, what does it say about expenditures for Haredi culture and education, mikva’ot, and more? If the assumption is that each community will fund itself and its needs, we will not get far. I have not heard of such renunciation from the Haredim.

2. There is also, in that sugya, an exemption for Torah scholars from all royal taxes. Rabbi Aton argues that this applies only to a gentile kingdom; but even without that, I have yet to hear the Haredim demand exemption from taxes (though many of them, as known, are quite lenient in practice on that law). But who knows—perhaps this, too, awaits us…
3. The exemption from taxes is also linked in those sugyot to the idea that calamity befalls the world because of ignoramuses. That is, the learners are not the source of the trouble and therefore the obligation to address it does not fall on them. I already mentioned above this odd argument (I believe its source is the Chazon Ish). Beyond the theological novelty of specifying on whose account calamities arrive and the diagnostic novelty that gives us clear tools to determine who is a Torah scholar and who an ignoramus and on whose account trouble befalls us, there is here the assumption that the level of contribution is set according to culpability (who caused the expense) rather than according to the level of threat (who needs saving). Note that we are not speaking of culpability that would justify imposing liability in tort—that, in itself, is a nontrivial innovation. Beyond that, now we can enter questions of culpability regarding all sorts of expenditures in our state and determine contributions accordingly. Here, too, you will see that we will not get far.

Generally speaking, throughout those sugyot it is implied that Torah protects its learners, not the public at large. The discussion is about exemption due to lack of need or lack of culpability. I have not heard anyone among us argue that if we have Torah students there is no need to spend on security because nothing will happen to any of us. Therefore, the claim that students protect the public surely cannot rely on those sugyot. But even regarding the students themselves, this is a selective use of ungrounded claims.

Conclusion and Summary

The discussion of all these arguments only shows us that the laws of taxes and participation in the burden in those sugyot are irrelevant to our lives in a modern state (and, as noted, they are not binding laws). I therefore do not accept those who brandish them as a contemporary basis, certainly when they do so selectively and inconsistently. Whoever enters the category of “Tribe of Levi” should do so to the end—including tax on sugary drinks, renunciation of livelihood and medicine, police services, and more. And in general: even if such righteous people are assigned service and taxes, nothing will happen to them. The Torah will protect them—so what is the problem?!

Returning to the beginning: there is no place for a sweeping exemption for Torah students, and certainly not a blanket exemption for some sector. One can set reasonable quotas for special learners (talented and diligent, after screening), so that “the priestess not be like a barmaid.” And if, for some reason, one concludes that full enlistment is unnecessary, even then the exemptions must be distributed among all sectors, not granted all to one group.

On Hanukkah—when the priests, the sons of the Tribe of Levi, were those who arose before the people to wage war against the Greeks (well, perhaps they were not the Rambam’s “Tribe of Levi,” but simply from the tribe of Levi)—it is most fitting that today’s Torah students hasten to the war and not leave their brothers to give their lives for them. In those days, at this time.

[1] I have written more than once that whoever thinks the Haredi internet filter became a cardinal article of faith because of pornography or violence does not understand how Haredi society operates. Haredi “articles of faith” are in no way connected to Jewish articles of faith. Their principal concern is exposure to other opinions and people—not to halakhic transgressions of one sort or another (from this you can also understand why my website is filtered there). In general, Haredi society is far more troubled by dangers to “Haredi-ness” than by matters of fear of Heaven or sin; all the great wars are waged there only over such issues. The fervent slogans about saving Israel and avoiding transgressions are a fig leaf for this.