Charedim and the Military Cemetery on Mount Herzl

Ceremony at Mt. Herzl military cemetery, 2010 (Wikipedia)

As I write these words, the comment thread to A Charedi Perspective lists 421 comments. I’m sure that number will be exceeded in very short order. Judging by the number of comments and the amount of ink (both virtual and real) spilled on this issue by the media - it would seem obvious that the issues discussed by Menachem  Mordechai Frank* are among the biggest and most hot button issues of the day.

Three months after the establishment of Medinat Yisrael, Rav Dessler wrote that he who does not see the dramatic change and the complete reversal of the fate of the Jewish people, "min hakatzeh al Hakatzeh, "from one extreme of six million slaughtered to the other extreme end "the settling of our people in their own medina in our Holy Land" is blind. "Woe to one who will come to the Day of Judgment still blind and not having been able to see something so real." (Michtav M'Eliyahu, Volume 3, page 352) 

(T)here is one attitude that we absolutely must preserve, and no one described that feeling better than Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz ztz”l, the rosh yeshivah of Mir. The following passage is from a sefer published in his memory: “Regarding Chazal’s statement in Bava Basra 10 that no one could come close to the level of the Eser Harugei Malchus [the Ten Martyrs put to death al kiddush Hashem by the Roman rulers] because they died for the Jewish People: I say the same of the soldiers who give their lives to save us. No one else can come close to their spiritual reward. Our obligation to thank them is boundless.”… 

“I must tell you about a talk I heard from the mashgiach of a large Sephardic yeshivah in Jerusalem, just before the talmidim went out to take part in the rally. This mashgiach is a personal of extraordinary refinement. He began by speaking of the constant, dreadful angst felt by the parents of soldiers in combat units. Then the mashgiach burst into tears as he described the feelings of a mother whose son is returned home in a coffin — how the pain of bereavement will be lodged in her heart forever.

‘There’s no doubt,’ the mashgiach cried, ‘that this rally, important as it is, will cause further pain to the crushed hearts of bereaved parents, especially if there will be placards with anti-army slogans [which there were]. Still, we are faithful to the order of our rabbis to take part in the rally. This, however, I ask of you, my dear talmidim. On your way to the rally, pass through the military cemetery on Har Herzl.

See the thousands of gravestones. Look at the gravestones, and then look at yourselves, and ask yourselves if you really feel you are learning Torah at such a level that you could look those parents in the eyes and say to them with a clear conscience, “Yes, I learn Torah. I, too, sacrifice myself day and night for the holy Torah, just as your son sacrificed himself.”

Then go to the rally, and shout with a clear conscience that the Torah is what upholds the Jewish nation, and bnei Torah engaged in its study must not be drafted. But if you feel yourselves lax in Torah learning — then, if you are men of integrity, go back to the yeshivah, for you have no right to cause pain to those bereaved parents.’”

I was studying in Ponevezh during the Sinai Campaign in 1956. I remember how the whole yeshivah, shtenders and all, moved down to the bomb shelter when war broke out. I’ll never forget the words of the Ponevezher Rav, Rav Yosef Shlomo Kahaneman, who — after describing Chazal’s picture of a truly Jewish army, divided into fighters and lomdei Torah — cried out, “Dear ones! The whole nation is now enlisting for battle. We must also enlist; we must devote all our strength to Torah learning as our task at this time. Anyone who can’t be more of a masmid than usual should know that he is endangering my yeshivah, and I ask any such person to leave the yeshivah immediately.”