"Shortly after I was discharged from the military, I was walking on the Chords Bridge in Jerusalem and there was an ultra-Orthodox anti-draft protest nearby," Michael Rabi, a Haredi young man, who served in the IDF, began. "I was looking at the protesters from above when a secular guy approached me and began to scream at me 'You, Haredim, don't do the arm, you are such and such.' Around us, there were several more Haredim watching.
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"At some point, I pulled out my reserve duty card and showed it to him. I told him that I was a Haredi soldier and showed him my military ID. That is when I realized that while he got silent and was at a loss for words, the Haredim who were standing around us, and who initially felt for me, took a sudden step back and shunned me."
Such situations, which can only be described as "between a rock and a hard place," seem to be the norm for many ultra-Orthodox soldiers, such as Michael, who chose to enlist in the IDF, going against their communities norms. They encounter various challenges due to this choice, problems that are not solved once they complete their military service. On the contrary, they become more prevalent and frustrating, affecting their lives as civilians.
One such complex issue revolves around matchmaking, or shidduchim as it is called in the ultra-Orthodox world. It is bad enough that the soldiers have to deal with the consequences of choices that their families might disapprove of, but they also struggle to move on by establishing a family of their own.
And even if a particular family is accepting of their son's decision to enlist, the larger community might not be as accommodating.
"The community looks at parents whose son enlisted in a critical way," Avihai Hatabi, who completed his military service several weeks ago, told Israel Hayom. "Are you sure you educated him properly? What school did you send him to? There are also remarks about shidduchim."
Michael concurred, saying, "The atmosphere feels like as soon as you have a 'rotten apple,' you should throw it out so that the rest of the apples in the basket don't get spoiled. Some families cannot withstand this pressure."
Yehudah, who also served in an IDF unit for observant soldiers, said, "Almost every Haredi soldier who comes from a classic ultra-Orthodox family is considered a lone soldier. Parents don't necessarily hate their son [who enlisted], but they rarely accept someone who chose a different path. At the swearing-in ceremonies of Haredi units, you will hardly see any suits or hats. They [family and friends] just don't come."
"And even if the families accept it, the reactions and the attitude of the neighborhood cause them heavy financial and mental damage. The whole time you feel you are the disappointment of the family, that you are [negatively] affecting your younger brothers. The experience of returning home for Shabbat, to the ultra-Orthodox community, in uniform, and with a weapon, is not pleasant. That is why Haredi soldiers are often exempt from wearing their uniforms."
I meet the six young men, all of whom chose what the ultra-Orthodox world would consider crossing a red line, at a Netzah Yehuda Association branch in Jerusalem. Established in 1999, the organization supports Haredi soldiers throughout their military service, up to and including their discharge and integration into civilian life.
Michael, 25, served in the Netzah Yehuda Battalion, which is part of Nahal Haredi, the IDF's ultra-Orthodox service track. He enlisted in 2017. After completing his service, he completed his matriculation exams and studied neuro-linguistic programming.
Dovi Lichter, 24, from Ramat Beit Shemesh joined the IDF in 2018. He grew up in Modi'in Ilit in an American Haredi family and is now a social worker helping families in need.
Avichai Hatabi, 20, from Jerusalem, who enlisted in 2020, joined the Air Force, and later the ultra-Orthodox recruitment department. After being discharged from the military, he began working at a Jewish bookshop.
Netanel Cohen, 26, has had a slightly different journey. He grew up in the Mevo Horon settlement, in a Religious Zionist family, and chose to enlist in the IDF, the Haredi paratroopers' company. He has since become more Haredi and works at an ultra-Orthodox school for teenagers at risk.
The two oldest in the group are Rabbi Yohanan Landau and Yehudah Shapiro. Yohanan, 33, from Jerusalem, is married with three children. He enlisted after getting married and served in a special Air Force track for older soldiers and later took an officers course. He now works as a rabbi in a combat engineer battalion, helping ultra-Orthodox soldiers.
Yehudah, 30, is also from the capital and also married with three children. He began to work as a manager of the lone soldier department and organized an apartment for discharged Haredi fighters.
Twice a week they come to the association to study Torah, pray, listen to lectures, and above all, meet with the only people who understand and accept them.
"This place was established out of a need," Yohanan said. "The guys here no longer belong to the communities they grew up in, not Breslov, not Chabad, or any Haredi group. Many consider them to be strange. Here, they feel at home."
According to the IDF, the number of ultra-Orthodox military recruits has increased in recent years, but they still remain a minority. Based on data by the Central Bureau of Statistics for 2020, the Haredi population stood at 1,175,00 people. The number of Haredi recruits stood at 1,906 in 2016, 1,374 in 2017, 1,788 in 2018, and 1,222 in 2019, in every case, slightly more than one-tenth of one percent of the entire sector.
Q: Why did you choose to enlist in the IDF?
Dovi: I've always looked up at soldiers. I told myself that it was a distant dream that would probably never come true. At some point, I felt I had utilized my studies to the fullest and wanted to get to know the world beyond the yeshiva and the ultra-Orthodox world.
Avichai: I left the yeshiva world at an early age. At first, I transferred to a Religious Zionist school, and from there, the path to recruitment was short as the community is much more accepting, and even encourages, service in the IDF.
Yohanan: I enlisted after getting married, and after studying for a few years as a bachelor. The military offered me to teach lessons on bases. The initial plan was to serve a short time, but in the end, I became an officer and the service was extended to longer than three years.
Michael: I made the decision after not studying consistently in the yeshiva, learning less, and working more. I realized that there was no reason for me not to contribute to society, and along the way, I would also get to know it better.
Q: How did your families react?
Dovi: My parents supported me and attended all my ceremonies. In the yeshiva, they were against it. My rabbi told me to get married. The moment I enlisted, I was shunned, and my connection with the yeshiva and friends began to deteriorate. Once I visited there as a soldier, and they were quite degrading about it, told me I was a loser for enlisting, but that is not how I saw it. From my perspective, I was contributing to my country.
The situation was complicated in the community as well. There were some who respected my decision, but in general, the ultra-Orthodox society does not value those who serve in the military. No one knows how hard it was during training or making arrests in Ramallah. No one understands this, there were quite a few who looked down on me and this attitude hurt me a lot.
Avihai: My family is very Haredi, and I had fights with my parents, especially my father. It started even before the army when I studied in yeshiva, and I bought a smartphone and changed the way I dressed. My family and those around me called it a deterioration, but I was just looking for something a little different.
I went to very close yeshivas. I was taught one particular way. In the end, the goal is to find a match and maintain a Haredi lifestyle. Therefore coming home in a uniform was unacceptable. All the neighbors look at you and make comments. It's not just the family. It's also the environment.
When I worked recruiting ultra-Orthodox soldiers, I met with young men before they enlisted. One of them told me that if his father found out about his plans to join the IDF, he would have killed him. I was shocked. Of course, he didn't mean that his father would actually kill him, but a sentence like this should never have been said in any way.
Yehudah: This difficult outlook exists. I had a soldier who lost an eye in an operation. I called his dad and told him that his son was injured during an arrest. His answer was, "He is over 18. Let him figure it out on his own<" and then he hung up.
Another time, a graduate of the association tried to commit suicide. When I spoke to his father, he told me something similar, that his son is no longer a child, that he should learn to take care of his own, and asked me not to call him anymore.
Michael said that during his service he lost two friends, who were killed in an attack in 2018, having been shot by a Palestinian terrorist.
"After our friends were killed, soldiers went home crying and upset, and the parents didn't know what to do with them. No one knows how to approach you, because no one has experienced the reality of the military. Unlike others, when a Haredi soldier goes home, he is not greeted as a respected fighter, and no one understands him.
A year ago, The Netzah Yehuda Association opened several apartments for Haredi soldiers who felt they could not fit in at home anymore, and for those who were rejected by their families for enlisting.
Yehudah explained why the organization was established.
"I saw that after being discharged, people were helped by associations for soldiers who were no longer religious, although they still were. In the worst of cases, they simply lived in a car. I understood that they needed an anchor to begin their lives after the military," he said.
Dovi: The issue of identity becomes particularly acute after the army. I tried to integrate into other places, but in the classical ultra-Orthodox public, you are disrespected for serving, and Religious Zionism is not the right environment for me. To this day, I keep searching for my identity and can't find it.
(photo here)
The issue becomes even more prevalent when it comes to finding a match. The most common, if not the only, way to find a match in the ultra-Orthodox world is through matchmaking, and oftentimes, the success of a match is determined by family lineage, background, and the reputation of the candidates and their families. In addition, a recent poll showed that an average Haredi girl gets married at the age of 20, and a man at 22.
As such, serving in the military hinders the Haredi soldiers' ability to marry in several ways.
The young men become visibly more disheartened at the mention of this subject.
Michael: There is a stigma about Haredi boys who served in the army, that they are not serious, and there are even degrading nicknames, and the feeling is that we are second-class citizens.
Q: How so?
Yohanan: For example, a 26-year-old young man told me that he was suggested a 31-year-old woman. Now, without going into whether the general public views it as problematic or not, the fact is that in the ultra-Orthodox sector, had he not done the army, he would have never been offered such a match.
Yehudah: That's right, and what the Haredi community doesn't understand is that more often than not, the boys who serve in the military are the good ones.
Q: What do you mean by that? After all, we know that a Haredi family values sons who study Torah.
Yehudah: I'm not talking about someone who sits and studies in a yeshiva for years, which is the ideal, but someone who usually clings to the yeshiva world, even though it's clearly not for him, because that is what he is familiar with, and in the end, he gets frustrated and gets nowhere. Alternatively, an ultra-Orthodox person who went to the army is a more wholesome person. He achieved something in life.
Michael: If a guy left the yeshiva and joined the army, it doesn't mean he is not as religious anymore. He could have maintained the same Haredi values he grew up with. No one understands that.
Avichai: First impressions really matter in the Haredi world. Where you learned, where you spent time, what family you come from, and what sector you are a member of. All this determines what suggestions you get. The world of shidduchim is full of rules like that.
If a Haredi guy wants to learn Torah and keep the commandments, but God forbid does not wear a suit all the time, or even worse, went to the army, it all has an effect.
Michael: The economic aspect is also very important. Haredi parents usually help a young couple at the beginning of their marriage. When one of my friends told his parents that they wanted to enlist, they said they would only support someone who learns Torah, so if he does enlist, he should take that into account.
Q: To what extent is this the preference of the girls who are suggested to you and to what their parents and Haredi society's?
Michael: Of course, there are girls who would prefer a guy who served in the military, but it is much more complicated than that. The ultra-Orthodox matchmaking world has clear codes. A girl won't date whoever she wants, there's no such thing. Her parents won't allow her to meet just anybody. Before the date, they find out who the young man is, what he did, where he learned, what his family does, and his brothers. As such, as soon as they hear that he was in the army, the match is almost immediately dropped.
Q: But at the end of the day, it was your decision to go against the Haredi mainstream, was it not?
Netanel: That is not the case. It's not that the options are between a guy who learns Torah all day versus someone who served in the IDF. It's usually between a young man who joined the army and the guy who might have been in the yeshivah physically but probably spent his time drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and chatting with friends.
Michael: Personally, when I meet a girl, I don't apologize for having served in the military. I reveal everything. True, there are those who study all day in the yeshiva, good for them, but there are many who are not suitable for such a life, they do not enjoy it and do not find themselves in it, but they stay in the yeshiva because that is what's accepted.
If a girl prefers such a guy, someone who does not stick to his own truth, over a person who built himself up in the military, then it's her choice. I am in a different place.
Attempts by discharged soldiers to recruit help were in vain.
"I tried to start a matchmaking project," Yohanan said. "I contacted a well-known shadchan, who told me that he had many girls to introduce to the boys. I suggested that he meet the boys. That was two months ago, and he still hasn't come. So he got cold feet, and he really doesn't know enough girls who would be interested in guys who served in the IDF."
Dovi expressed a more hopeful view, saying that in his circles, he receives more suggestions particularly because he served in the military.
"It's becoming more normal, at least in my community," he said, which the rest of the group attributed to the fact that Dovi is part of the more open-minded American Haredi community.
The conversation is joined by the CEO of Netzah Yehudah Association, Yossi Levin, who is married with two children and lives in Jerusalem. Born in the capital, he studied at several mainstream Haredi schools. Later, he served in the IDF as an officer and a fighter.
According to Yossi, worries over the impact of military service on the dating prospects of Haredi soldiers go all the way back to 1999, when, as mentioned above, Nahal Haredi was established.
Founder Yehuda Duvdevani "was mostly concerned about how serving would affect the soldiers' dating prospects, which is why he went to consult with rabbis. I, personally, never understood this, until I experienced it firsthand," Yossi said.
Yossi is the youngest of eight siblings. One day, when speaking to his sister about her dating process, "she said that she has problems with shidduchim. And when I asked her what the problem was, she said it was because they say her brother is a soldier. I never abandoned my values or identity, then why is my being in the military a problem? Unfortunately, despite our many efforts, lots of our graduates struggle to find a match."
Q: What could be done?
Michael believes that besides continuing with the options that are already being pursued, time will also bring about a change.
"The Haredi world might not admit to this, but many are joining the military and are curious about the world. In the end, they will have no choice, but to adapt, including with shidduchim," he said.
Yehudah: "As of now, this huge population, which includes tens of thousands of IDF graduates from ultra-Orthodox tracks, has no political representation and almost no rabbinic recognition. But that will change, the revolution has begun."
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In conclusion, after all the discussions about the difficulties they face, the young man wanted to emphasize their strength and righteousness.
Dovi: We are not poor. It is true, there are many challenges and complexities, but we are also very strong and proud of our choices.
Yehudah: It's important to me that both the Haredi and secular Israeli public understand that a Haredi guy who serves in the IDF is a hero. In the end, these are good people, who despite the difficulties are bringing about a change. Their sacrifice is for the people and the State of Israel. If anyone knew what mental resilience you need to enlist as a Haredi, they would immediately show him the respect he deserves. Not only does this person leave his comfort zone, he completely shatters it.
Michael expressed optimism, saying, "The change is already happening, and there are quite a few girls who are aware of the advantages of dating someone who was a soldier. They know it will be someone who knows life, a man of patience and discretion. We grew in the military, and are much more mature and ripe for family life."
