A couple of weeks back, we got a letter through from the IDF telling my 16 ½ year old daughter that she had to report to the IDF recruiting office in Jerusalem, to discuss joining the army in another year and a half.
Lest you think these letters are only sent to secular / dati-leumi girls, you should know that we met up with a large handful of Beis Yaacov girls in the Jerusalem Beit Din’s offices, where we had to go to start the process of getting my daughter formerly exempted on religious grounds.
But while the Beis Yaacov schools then deals with the process of actually submitting the documents proving a girl is ‘religious’ to the army, we had to actually go down there ourselves to hand in the papers.
As I got to the gate of the recruiting office with my daughter, a youngish chareidi guy suddenly popped up out of nowhere and asked us if we were going to try to get my kid out of the army. The word try kind of bothered me a little, as I thought these things were routine, very simple, a done deal.
The chareidi guy explained it would be much easier if I left my daughter outside, a little way off, while I handed in her documents from the Beit Din and asked for a receipt. “It’s better that way for you,” he told me, and as he was clearly on a mission to help religious girls avoid being drafted, I believed him.
Thank God, the soldier on the gate had braces and a kippa, so he wasn’t exactly intimidating. There was a big mix-up for five minutes when he thought that I was the one trying to get out of the army, but the female soldier who was on duty with him, Etti, took one look at my wrinkles and burst out with a ma pitom!!! that cleared that small misunderstanding up immediately.
Eventually, I managed to hand in the form from the Beit Din, and I got back a square piece of paper telling me that the IDF had formally received the paperwork, and would come back with a decision in two weeks.
In the car coming home, I was discussing the army with my kid, who is extremely idealistic and ‘zionistic’ in the classical sense of loving Israel, loving Jews, and being prepared to sacrifice a lot to help her people.
But not in the army.
This is the kid who went to protest Amona, and whose friends are in in Yad L’Achim, and who has big plans to make a lot of money – just so she can give it away to charity.
But after Elor Azaria, and after Shaul Goldin, H’yd, and after Amona, and after all the ridiculous political correctness about having women serving in combat positions – the IDF is looking less and less like the place that idealistic, Zionistic young Jews should be even if they were men.
The people running the country and controlling the army don’t fear Hashem. They don’t consult daat Torah before making their decisions about sending Jews into battle. They don’t have siyatta di shmaya (Heavenly help) – and very often they issue orders that go directly contrary to the Torah.
For idealistic mothers of idealistic young Jewish men, serving in the IDF presents a fearsome moral dilemma in 2017.
Thank God, I don’t have sons, so I don’t have to wrestle with that particular question in the deepest recesses of my soul. But what’s clear is that the IDF is certainly no place for Jewish women, religious or not.
When you teach a woman to kill, even in self-defense, you are cutting her off from that loving, feminine, caring, mothering, compassionate part of herself. Woe to the children of such a Rambo-mom, and woe to her husband.
In this violence filled world, we need more of that feminine vibe of unconditional love, kindness, compassion and yes, fragility. Fragile people know they need God to get by in the world, not just an Uzi to protect them.
So I breathed a huge sigh of relief that, b’ezrat Hashem, my daughter got out of the army. I know there are no simple answers here, in terms of how we protect ourselves, tachlis.
But yet, the answer is the same as it’s ever been: put God in the picture, keep His commandments, respect daat Torah – and then watch our enemies melt away by themselves.