The word busha (shame) in Hebrew has a new meaning to me because the truth is, we should all be ashamed of what happened on Yom Kippur.
Tel Aviv has been my home for four and a half years, and right now, I cannot imagine my life anywhere else. While I come from a modern religious background, Jerusalem didn’t feel suitable for someone like me. The notion of Tel Aviv being a city for only secular people, usually labeled as the polar opposite of Jerusalem, now operates with 49% of businesses with Kosher certification and over 500 active synagogues. The city is a beautiful example of how religious and secular Jews can coexist and respect each other.
A diverse Tel Aviv is especially apparent on Yom Kippur, where you see a wide variety of people from all walks of life, from different religious levels, coming together to pray and hear the shofar (ram’s horn) at the closing of the Ne’ila prayer. At the peak of the COVID pandemic, major synagogues in Tel Aviv brought services to the outdoors to comply with social distancing rules.
The outdoor services I always attend have a mechitza (partition) with attendees that include religious people mixed with locals who choose not to fast. In the outdoor orthodox services, men and women who sit on either side of the barrier are free to do so without anyone giving them problems. Many Israelis who usually don’t enter a synagogue but still appreciate traditional Jewish services have joined and found their place in this type of congregation.
Since we adopted these styles of outdoor services, Yom Kippur has had such meaning and beauty in Tel Aviv, where Jewish unity is so apparent that I’m not sure even Jerusalem could match it.
This year, however, it seems that nothing is sacred anymore, not even Yom Kippur. A year of an extremist government and the laws they are trying to impose have brought out the worst in people, both on the right and left. Yom Kippur programs in Tel Aviv, which have gone on for years with no problems (with and without barriers), have turned into a weapon between religious and secular fundamentalists, deepening the rifts within our society.
The frustrations over the judicial overhaul are reaching a boiling point, and on Yom Kippur, protesters used worshipers as a scapegoat. On Sunday, the evening of Yom Kippur, the Supreme Court reinforced and upheld a previous law that forbids separate gender prayer in public spaces. The rule was that the decision of public space ultimately lies with each municipality, and Tel Aviv decided that public prayer with a barrier was forbidden.
Rosh Yehudi at the forefront
AT THE forefront of this battle with the Tel Aviv municipality was a controversial religious organization called Rosh Yehudi, whose Tel Aviv headquarters synagogue is meters away from Dizengoff Square. The organization has hosted Yom Kippur services at the square since the start of the pandemic and occasionally hosts Shabbat services. Their Yom Kippur program brings 2000 worshipers and has become popular over the years due to its prime location.
However, the organization seems to have been at the forefront of much controversy and toxicity in Israel. Rosh Yehudi’s lead, Rabbi Yigal Levinstein, has made homophobic comments and was mobbed by LGBTQ supporters in Tel Aviv and had to be escorted out by the police.
The organization’s leaders are involved in contentious activity, claiming their goal is to convert secular Jews to be more religious. As a side note, in the United States and Canada, plenty of non-profits engage in “Kiruv” to bring people closer to Judaism, none of which are considered “proselytizers.”
Yet Rosh Yehudi is regarded as an extremist Orthodox group that believes Tel Aviv is the next fortress to conquer. Their ideology supposedly reflects those of the ultra-religious Jews who live in settlements and speak about “conquering” the hilltops of Samaria.
I am genuinely unsure what to say about Rosh Yehudi because while I reject comments by their Rabbis as well as any aggressive methods toward converting people to religion, as a resident of Tel Aviv, I know many people who go to Rosh Yehudi frequently and have nothing but positive things to say about the organization.
None of the people I know are homophobic and simply enjoy Rosh Yehudi as a community space for religious Tel Avivians. There is too much conflicting information in the media reports and statements from Rosh Yehudi leaders versus the experiences others have had with Rosh Yehudi and their Tel Aviv programs.
Despite the court ruling, Rosh Yehudi and other organizations such as Chabad and Tribe Tel Aviv – both of which are far from controversial and have no association with extremist ideologies – put up barriers outdoors. For some, it was because they had no idea about the court order, and for others, particularly Rosh Yehudi, they tried to bypass the law by using a string of Israeli flags as a barrier instead.
THE FALLOUT was upsetting and vicious as protesters, frustrated by Rosh Yehudi’s decision, lashed out at orthodox programs all over the city. Along with Rosh Yehudi, they harassed worshipers at Chabad, and Tribe Tel Aviv in various locations across the city because of the barrier.
At the Tribe Tel Aviv program (attended mostly by new immigrants) protesters shouted, “Go back to where you came from,” and “Israel doesn’t want you here.” They surrounded the Rabbi even after the barrier was gone and got uncomfortably close to the female worshipers to intimidate them. Some disrespectfully took the Jewish prayer books and riffled through them, while others used their bicycles to stop the services from continuing.
Some people claim that those who chose to put up a mechitza in the public space were doing so out of spite and to cause problems, repeating that it is against the law for them to do so. Yet those same people also break the law when they block the Ayalon highway or set tires on fire.
Claiming one is more legitimate than the other is hypocritical. A public mechitza for residents who choose to attend these styles of services voluntarily should not be considered an “illegal provocation.”
I AM a resident of Tel Aviv; I pay taxes here, and my entire life and community revolve around this city. I have been vocally against this extremist government, attended the protests, and used my column to criticize members of Knesset and their anti-democratic policies. I also understand that many people worried about the current government infringing on their rights have legitimate concerns and that non-Orthodox groups are struggling in their fight for religious acceptance.
Yet, on Yom Kippur, I was alienated when the court and other residents told me that the way I choose to pray belongs in a synagogue (while everyone else was free to pray outdoors.) I have attended these public synagogues for years and have sat in the men’s section, and nobody “forced” me to sit in the women’s section.
Tel Aviv residents participating in the public orthodox programs have never been forced to comply with traditional practices. Moreover, I did not move to the Jewish state to hide my Judaism, and nobody (even the municipality) is justified in telling me it doesn’t belong in a public space.
I can’t believe Israel would be a place where Jews are chasing other Jews into synagogues. This is not my Tel Aviv nor a reflection of religious pluralism. By no means do any protesters have a right to take legal matters into their own hands; that is the responsibility of law enforcement.
We must be ashamed of what happened on Yom Kippur because only then can we learn from it and commit ourselves to healing Israel.
The writer is a social media activist with over 10 years of experience working for Israeli and Jewish causes and cause-based NGOs. She is the co-founder and COO of Social Lite Creative, a digital marketing firm specializing in geopolitics.