The Short Memory of Religious Zionism, and Why Identity Matters So Much to Young Tel Avivians
While the legal battles rage in the streets, completely different things are happening beneath the surface. The media crowd is excited about Itzik Ohana’s engagement. At the same time, the “Shalom LeAm” initiative in Tel Aviv shows that even in the midst of a fierce public struggle, hearts can connect around a shared Jewish identity under the banner of “brother to brother.” Israel Meir presents the daily edition of “Davar Rishon.”
In the first part of the program, host Israel Meir sharply criticized claims that yeshiva students have become “criminals.” He pushed back at members of religious Zionism, reminding them of the days of opposition to disengagement, and argued, “When you have values, you know how to stand your ground.”
The conversation about drafting yeshiva students has reached boiling point. Over the past week, while parts of Israeli society, led by religious Zionists, have hurled harsh accusations at yeshiva students and described their refusal to enlist as criminal behavior, a different, forceful and unapologetic voice was heard in the studio, holding up a mirror to its critics. “How did we get to a point where yeshiva students are considered criminals?” he asked. “The legal argument does not hold water, because this is a legislative change, not an active act of criminality.”
He pointed an accusing finger at religious Zionists: “In 2005, when you were expelled from your homes in Gush Katif, you barricaded yourselves, demonstrated and fought. Back then, when your interests were at stake, that was legitimate. Suddenly you became fighters for justice, why are those values for you, and criminality for us?” Israel referred to the letter signed by 12 hesder yeshiva rabbis, who said they would not send students to armored units because of the integration of female soldiers in tanks. “You know very well how to stand your ground when it comes to your red lines,” he stressed. “What can we do if our red lines are a few meters before yours?”
According to him, the Haredi public does not fundamentally oppose military service, but the army “made mistakes,” from attempts to violate Shabbat to changes that harm the Haredi way of life. “If you want a solution, you need to sit down with rabbis. Banging your head against the wall and sanctions will not get a single yeshiva student to enlist,” he concluded.
In the second part of the program, Israel turned to the international arena and criticized American policy: “When it comes to Israel, Trump demands restraint. But when the interest is American, suddenly force can be used.” He concluded with a sharp parable about a person demanding that his friend “accept with love” his disasters, until he discovers they are his own disasters.
For years, Itzik Ohana was the man behind the scenes, the one who reveals other people’s stories and brings the social circuit into your phone screens. This week, the roles were reversed. Thousands of messages from across the Haredi sector flooded his phone, and he went from the one doing the covering to the one being covered, the person who captured everyone’s attention with a joyful engagement announcement.
“I received thousands of messages,” Ohana says excitedly. “This is a huge joy, a special connection after years of anticipation. As an only son, and especially after the family tragedy we went through with the passing of my sister when she was young, the anticipation of the family and the close circle for this moment was enormous. Thank God it happened.”
Ohana describes the amusing situation in which he found himself at the center of attention: “I always prefer to be behind the scenes. I don’t like publicizing myself, but when it comes to a moment like this, you just go with it.”
In a symbolic and unsettling twist, Ohana’s engagement took place on a night of complicated security events. “It was so funny, because for a long time I postponed the engagement because of the war and the tension,” he reveals. “I waited for a calm moment, and דווקא on the evening we chose, it happened. It shows us how much the Holy One, blessed be He, runs the world. There were interceptions over the bride’s family home, and some people told me that it was part of the excitement and joy of that evening.”
Asked for advice to single people who are still waiting, Ohana emphasizes thoroughness: “Today’s world is different from what it used to be, everything is open and exposed. So it is important to check and clarify things in depth. Not to be impulsive. When you build a home, you are building your continuity, this is not buying something at a grocery store. You need to be thorough, clarify worldview and compatibility, and approach it with responsibility for a lifetime.”
When it comes to the surprising connection to Shuki Salmon and the behind-the-scenes “matchmaking,” Ohana confirms the reports: “Shuki Salmon, who is much more than a colleague, he is like a brother to me, was indeed the matchmaker. He pushed for it מאוד and had known the families for years. Everything is closed within the family and professional framework.”
When people talk about Tel Aviv, the immediate image is often one of alienation and classic secular liberalism. But behind the scenes, something deeper is changing. Rabbi Shlomo Spatzer, one of the leaders of the “Shalom LeAm” initiative, is not deterred by liberal language or debates. He simply opens the door. In an interview with the program, he outlines the path to genuine connection in the city that seems furthest from the Haredi world.
“After October 7, something changed,” Rabbi Spatzer explains. According to him, even Jews who never defined themselves as religious suddenly feel the need to return to their roots. “The rising antisemitism in the world and the grief felt in every home in Israel raise pointed questions about our identity. When a person asks, ‘Why do they hate me?’ he begins looking for the roots of ‘who am I.’”
The main center of “Shalom LeAm,” located at 63 Bograshov, was established in memory of a soldier from Golani Reconnaissance, the grandson of Rabbi Yaakov Hillel, who fell in battle in Lebanon. “This soldier was a symbol of love for the Jewish people,” Rabbi Spatzer shares. “Even when he was at the height of operational activity, he made sure to keep Shabbat and took care of shared meals for his team. That is exactly the force we are trying to bring to Tel Aviv.”
“Not politics, just connection.” Rabbi Spatzer makes clear that the initiative avoids divisive topics: “There are two things I do not talk about at our Shabbat meals, politics and the army. That is where the point of unity is. When we meet face to face, person to person, there is no hatred. It is brother to brother.” Every Shabbat, the center hosts dozens of participants, many of whom had never been introduced to the tradition before.
In his fascinating lesson on Tractate Chullin, Rabbi Spatzeron addressed a deep theological and halachic question: how does the rule that a tereifa cannot live remain relevant when modern medicine can now cure defects that were once considered fatal? The rabbi explained that according to major decisors such as the Chazon Ish and Igrot Moshe, nature has indeed changed, but the Sages of the Talmud established the laws of the Torah according to the reality as it existed at the time of the giving of the Torah. Halacha was set as an “eternal law” that does not change with every new scientific discovery, מתוך a view that the Torah was not given for renewed discretionary judgment in every generation, but as a fixed and absolute divine command.
