In the new book After the Davening, which presents the teachings of my rebbi, Rabbi Michel Twerski shlita, he offers a searching way to measure whether we are living the Torah we profess.
In this week’s parshah, Hashem tells Avraham, “You shall be a blessing,” and promises that “through you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (B’reishis 12:2-3). Rabbi Twerski explains that klal Yisrael is meant to teach by example. Jewish life should be so inspiring that when people wish someone well, they might say, “You should be like so-and-so, the Jew.” Our way of life should make others want to wish Jewish qualities upon the people they love.
Rabbi Twerski asks us to apply that standard personally: “Those who consider themselves to be b’nei Torah” should ask, “Would anybody be moved to want to be like me? Would anybody be inspired by me?” That is a serious test. We may keep the letter of the law yet fail to bring Torah and life together in a way that inspires. If people experience our religious lives as oppressive and joyless, rather than as something that uplifts and liberates, we have to ask ourselves why.
The Torah makes a related point in D’varim 4:6. Moshe tells the people that the statutes and laws are “your wisdom and your understanding in the eyes of the nations.” Rabbi Twerski asks: Since when do we keep Torah because the nations will call us wise? Who cares what they say?
The verse, he explains, is not giving us a reason to keep Torah. It describes what should happen when we live it properly. People should see its effects in the kind of human beings we become, in our honesty, generosity, family life, integrity, and dealings with others. If the nations cannot see that Torah has made us wiser and better human beings, something is missing. If that is true of the nations, how much more should our fellow Jews see the beauty of Torah in the lives of those who observe it.
Rabbi Twerski connects this responsibility to the Avos we name in the Amidah: Elokei Avraham, Elokei Yitzchak, vEilokei Yaakov. Rashi, citing a midrash on the words “You shall be a blessing,” explains: “B’cha chosmin v’lo bahem – In you they will conclude, and not in them.” Thus, we conclude the blessing with “Magen Avraham.”
Rabbi Twerski explains “chosmin” as referring to a signature quality: the quality by which Avraham is recognized. His defining quality was kindness. Torah study and service of Hashem must be joined with g’milus chasadim.
As Rabbi Twerski puts it, “The hallmark of a Torah, which is Jewish Torah, is that we serve the entire community of klal Yisrael, of every stripe and every capacity, of every ability.” He continues: “Jews don’t learn selfishly.” Torah scholars should not see themselves only as champions of scholarship. A ben Torah must also help build communal life.
In a smaller community, that may include taking part in the chevrah kadisha and responding to other communal needs. Rabbi Twerski writes, “If b’nei Torah don’t participate, others, too, will not feel moved to participate.” The particular responsibilities will differ from person to person. But Torah joined to kindness should enlarge our concern for the people around us. If b’nei Torah do not take part in communal life, those who look to them as examples may not feel called to take part either.
This is a way to examine the chareidi community in Israel today. Many Israelis see us as a group that asks for support while refusing to share responsibility. There are, of course, individuals and organizations that do extraordinary acts of kindness, including Hatzalah, ZAKA, and Yad Sarah. Their work is vital. But much of the organized chesed is directed toward needs within our own community. Seeing ourselves as part of the entire nation and its needs is mostly absent.
The debate over military service is one powerful source of estrangement. Those who devote themselves to Torah learning deserve respect. At the same time, thousands are not learning full-time, and many are not learning at all. This is a source of great resentment, but it does not have to be this way. There are ways to serve while ensuring that a young man enters the army as a chareidi and leaves as a chareidi. Frameworks such as the Chashmona’im Brigade and chareidi yeshivah hesder programs show that these questions can be discussed seriously. Too often, however, the discussion is rejected before it can begin.
We also have to address the need for young people to acquire basic skills to support themselves and their families, and the discriminatory barriers that deny Sephardic children the same opportunities as Ashkenazic children. These are not only policy questions. They concern the dignity of our neighbors and whether they experience Torah as a source of fairness, responsibility, and care.
A 2025 survey by Reichman University’s Institute for Liberty and Responsibility found that respondents rated their attitude toward chareidim at an average of 4.3 on a scale of 0 to 10, below the neutral midpoint. Among secular respondents, the average was 2.3. A survey cannot capture every reason for those feelings or define every relationship between chareidim and other Israelis. But the finding should trouble us. When Torah life is met with contempt rather than admiration, we must ask what impression our actions are making and what we can do to change it.
The exciting new party, HaTzibur HaChareidi, is working to bring these concerns into public life. We believe our community can honor those who learn full-time while also addressing national service, employment, education, and the needs of every part of klal Yisrael. We want to strengthen our Torah community by living its ethical demands more fully.
This past Motza’ei Shabbos, more than 1,000 people enthusiastically attended our campaign rally in person, and over 13,000 watched it by livestream. We know that many, many more are quietly hoping for change. That response gives us reason to hope that a chareidi voice committed to Torah, chesed, and responsibility can be heard.
But the deeper test will not be decided on election night. The impression we leave is built every day, in the way we speak, work, learn, care for our neighbors, and respond to the needs of our fellow Jews. Rabbi Twerski leaves us with a question each of us should ask: Would anyone look at the way we live and say, “I want to be like them, and I want my family to be like them”? If we want the answer to be yes, our conduct must be worthy of emulation in our homes, our communities, and our shared responsibilities.
Rabbi Yehuda Oppenheimer lives in Afula and is now a Knesset candidate for HaTzibur HaChareidi, advocating a life of deep Torah commitment combined with work, national service, and responsibility to klal Yisrael. He writes about the Orthodox world and contemporary Jewish issues at www.libibamizrach.blogspot.com.
