I’m disturbed by a trend, or actually two phenomena
that point to the same trend: the use of the terms “national religious” and “Zionist
rabbis” when the distinction (presumably between Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox) is
irrelevant. Three recent examples (though this has been going on for decades):
1. Orthodox parents
opposing their daughters getting vaccinated
against the HPV virus
2. The
disgraceful annual back-to-school ritual of Ethiopian schoolchildren
being barred from schools
3. A
rabbi stating that a woman’s place is in the home
In all three of these accounts, the term “National Religious”
(in the first two) and “Zionist rabbi” (in the third) are used, even though
none of the subjects discussed in the articles have anything remotely to do with
serving in the IDF or hanging onto the settlements. Because what does this
newly coined term “National Religious” mean, anyway? What happened to simply
distinguishing between secular Jews and Jews who adhere to a Torah-based
lifestyle? Well, Israel happened, and along with it our obsession with the
military and what it means to serve or not serve. “National Religious” has
become code for “We serve in the IDF. Not like those others over
there in Bnei Brak who learn full time and live off the state”. (“We” meaning “men”,
by the way, as today fewer and fewer Orthodox women serve in the IDF, favoring
the year of community service known as sheirút leumì). And
commensurately, a “Zionist rabbi” is presumably one who preaches supporting the
state, i.e., serving in the IDF and working for a living.
Now it’s not working or IDF service that I’m having
a problem with; it’s that the distinction is used even when the topic being
discussed is completely unrelated thereto. It’s as if the Orthodox are so
anxious about distinguishing themselves from the ultra-Orthodox that they feel
the need to use these labels even when it’s not the least bit relevant, and the
rest of us follow, without being aware that we’re all perpetuating, through the
use of words, the militarization of Israeli society. Because words matter: a
society’s values are reflected by its language. Let’s take each of the above
three cases one by one.
No. 3 - a
rabbi, who by default in the Israeli press is always Orthodox, as evidenced by
the fact that only Conservative and Reform rabbis get referred to by those “qualifiers”,
states that too much education isn’t good for girls. Having written a treatise
thereon, does it really matter that he advocates serving in the IDF? Is it not
enough of a disgrace that any cleric, regardless of faith or denomination,
preaches such a belief? What difference does it make precisely which shade of backwardness
he’s advocating, or where his yeshiva is located? And yet we blindly accept
that the fact that he’s a “Zionist rabbi” has significance.
No. 2 - Funding
of schools that bar Ethiopian pupils is cut. The reporter of the article cited
above, presumably trying to elucidate the situation, even goes so far as to
explain to us about the schools in question, explaining that “some [are] religious
Zionist, some Orthdox”. Try puzzling that one out. And yet we don’t blink an
eye at this semantic pretzeling, even though it shouldn’t make a darned bit of
difference if schools engaging in discrimination are Orthodox, ultra-Orthodox,
or hipsy-dipsy humanist alternative. It’s a news item about minority members
not being admitted to a publicly funded institution. Now I allow that it is of interest
that the institutions in question are faith-based, but who cares whether their
graduates serve in the IDF or not? Again, irrelevant — yet it’s so ingrained,
we don’t even notice.
No. 1 - Orthodox
parents, believing that their children will not engage in sex unless married,
are averse to the idea of vaccinating their children against STDs. Fair enough.
So how come the article makes a point of distinguishing that the vaccine opposition
includes both Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox parents? Do they not all adhere to a Torah-based
lifestyle? Yes. Does that lifestyle forbid sex outside marriage? Yes. So, for the
purposes of the topic, then, that’s all that matters. Why, then, is it important
that the would-be vaccinees’ brothers will or won’t serve in the IDF?
In addition, this going-to-the-trouble to
distinguish Orthodox from ultra-Orthodox reflects what’s going on in Orthodox society,
which appears to be an inferiority complex vis-à-vis the ultra-Orthodox. When I
arrived in Israel in the early 1980s, we still referred to [chovèsh] kipáh
srugá, or what in North America would be called Modern Orthodox. Nowadays,
while the term isn’t extinct, it’s an on the endangered species list. The Orthodox
are preoccupied with getting ever more extreme in religious practice while
being meticuously careful to not cross over the line to ultra-Orthodoxy, while
we non-Orthodox unwittingly reinforce their compulsive tightrope walk by
adopting their compulsive terminology. Because we non-Orthodox have been just
as brainwashed into believing that serving in the IDF is the be-all and end-all
of being Israeli: the secular religion if you will.
Besides the trend reflected in language, its misuse
is just plain bad journalism. Just as reporters are admonished not to refer to
someone’s race or gender unless it’s relevant to the story, they shouldn’t
bother with whether an individual or institution is Orthodox or ultra-Orthodox (or
secular) where irrelevant. That means not printing headlines like “Arab baby
girl injured in accident” or “Immigrant stabs wife”. We are supposed to have
evolved to the point where headlines should read “School refuses to admit
Ethiopians”; “Rabbi decries education for girls”; or “Parents oppose HPV
vaccine”. A headline should tell us the facts; any qualifying information – which
“National Religious” rarely is – should appear only if relevant. Test it: Next
time you read “National Religious” or “Zionist rabbi” (or “ultra-Orthodox”, or “Haredi”),
substitute “Orthodox” and see if the information remains correct. Let me know
your results!
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