I recently returned from a visit to the United States—a fascinating time to be there, fresh off the 2024 presidential elections, with the Trump administration gearing up for its second act. One morning, I found myself praying in a modern Orthodox synagogue. As the service concluded, the rabbi announced that a rabbi from Israel, representing a haredi yeshiva, had come to collect donations.
Normally, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. After all, supporting Torah learning is a deeply ingrained value in Jewish communities around the world. But this time, I couldn’t shake the discomfort. Since October 7, everything has changed. I’ve never advocated for drastic measures—no one is suggesting we load every haredi man of draft age onto trucks and dump them at IDF bases—but something has to give.
Too many have already paid the ultimate price in this war. Too many are bearing the burden for everyone else. Across the political spectrum, from settlers to Tel Avivians, the consensus is growing: this cannot continue.
A disconnect too glaring to ignore
Since October 7, my friends and neighbors have been called to reserves for weeks, even months. Many have spent over 200 days on duty, leaving careers, finances, and families in shambles. One neighbor hasn’t seen his pregnant wife and four kids in nearly a year. Some have lost close friends in battle.
Meanwhile, I hear stories that make my blood boil. Just the other day, a friend told me about two young haredi influencers, both of draft age, who jetted off to Greece for hair transplants. They posted smiling selfies and promoted some brand that sponsored their trip, as if life in Israel were continuing as usual.
For many of us, it’s not. I haven’t posted so much as a picture of my morning coffee since October 7. How could I, when 101 hostages are still in Gaza, when soldiers are sacrificing everything for our survival? And yet, parts of the haredi community seem utterly detached from the reality of war.
This isn’t just frustrating—it’s infuriating. Israel is bleeding, and the haredi refusal to enlist in the IDF is making the wound deeper.
Diaspora donors: You hold the power
To my Jewish brothers and sisters in America, especially those who donate to haredi yeshivas: you have a unique opportunity to effect change. Many of you are staunch Zionists. You understand what’s at stake for Israel. You know the meaning of sacrifice. If you’re going to continue funding these institutions—and that’s entirely your decision—then use your influence to ask tough questions.
When the next haredi rabbi comes to your synagogue seeking support, don’t just write a check and move on.
Request a meeting with the *Rosh Yeshiva* (head of the yeshiva). Ask them how they justify the fact that their students—many of whom aren’t even learning full-time—don’t share in the burden of defending the Jewish state.
Tell them what’s happening in Israel right now. Tell them about the families crushed by the endless cycle of reserve duty, the soldiers who haven’t seen their loved ones in months, and the businesses that are struggling because their owners are on the frontlines.
And then ask: What are *you* going to do about it?
A time for courage
Since the war began, not a single senior haredi rabbi has stood up to say what desperately needs to be said: that the status quo is no longer tenable. It’s time for a courageous voice to emerge from within the community, a leader willing to acknowledge the painful truth—that those who aren’t genuinely learning in yeshivas must serve.
This isn’t about destroying haredi culture or values. It’s about survival.
The army must do its part
At the same time, the IDF must approach this issue with sensitivity and understanding. Forcing haredim to integrate into the military without accommodating their religious needs is a recipe for disaster. I speak from experience as a Religious Zionist soldier. There were moments when I felt my faith clashed with military life. It’s not an easy balance, and for haredim, the challenges are even more significant.
The IDF chief of staff has proposed a creative solution: establishing a haredi yeshiva in the Jordan Valley, where students can train as soldiers in a halachically compliant environment while guarding Israel’s borders. This autonomous setup would allow them to contribute meaningfully to national security without compromising their way of life.
It’s not a perfect plan, but it’s a start. If this isn’t the solution, then let haredi leaders propose their own ideas. The point is that something has to change.
A plea from the heart
I write these words with a heavy heart. The last few weeks have been exhausting, filled with pain, anger, and despair. Like so many Israelis, I’m tired of the divisions tearing our society apart. I’m tired of watching one segment of the population shoulder the burden of war while another remains on the sidelines.
To the donors in the Diaspora: you have the power to make a difference. You have the influence to demand accountability from the institutions you support. Use it. Speak up.
Because the status quo isn’t just unsustainable—it’s dangerous. Lives are being lost. Families are being broken. Communities are being crushed.
If you care about Israel’s future—and I know you do—then it’s time to act. Meet with the rabbis. Challenge them. Urge them to find solutions.
Israel’s survival depends on it.
