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23 Kislev 5761 - December 20, 2000 | Mordecai Plaut, director Published Weekly
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NEWS
Nahariya, Kiryat Shmuel, Tzoran and Afula -- The Religious Revolution of Keren Nesivos Moshe
by Moshe Schapiro

Recently a two-room addition to a religious school set up by Keren Nesivos Moshe was ruthlessly demolished by a crane sent by the Nahariya municipality -- despite the fact that the school had received permission from that same municipality to build the addition.

How did a religious school manage to sneak into this secular stronghold in the first place?

It's all part of the story of the "religious revolution" sweeping across Eretz Yisroel.

A Permit to Build, No Permit Needed to Destroy

Keren Nesivos Moshe was established in 1998 to bring Torah education to communities that are totally lacking in religious life and institutions. Nahariya certainly met the criteria -- before the Keren arrived in the town, yarmulkes were as rare as clouds on a summer day in Israel.

In its first year of operation, 20 girls signed up. For the current academic year, enrollment for the school, which is fully licensed by the city municipality, jumped to 90 girls. It was logical to assume that the time was ripe to open a boys' school.

When 15 boys signed up during the registration drive last spring, that number was pretty much on target with what the Keren had expected for a first-year enrollment. A few weeks later, however, the number dropped to 12.

Rabbi Tzvi Boymel, head of Keren activity in Eretz Yisroel, was concerned. Before making the decision of whether or not to go ahead and open the school, he sought the advice of HaRav Aharon Leib Steinman, who was instrumental in creating Keren Nesivos Moshe and remains one of its guiding forces.

"Should we still open the school?" Rabbi Boymel asked.

"For twelve Yiddishe kinderlach," HaRav Steinman replied, "we open a school."

But then four more boys dropped out. Rabbi Boymel asked HaRav Steinman the question again.

"For eight Yiddishe kinderlach," HaRav Steinman replied, "we open a school."

A few weeks later the number of boys dropped to seven. HaRav Steinman remained committed to opening the school.

Then the number dropped to three. Should they open a school for just three boys?

This time HaRav Steinman hesitated. He asked Rabbi Boymel about the boys, about their parents, about their siblings and about the costs involved. Finally he made his decision:

"For three Yiddishe kinderlach," he announced, "we open a school."

From a cost-benefit perspective, it might seem incredible to spend thousands of dollars on a school that would educate just three students. HaRav Steinman, though, was basing his decision on sound business principles.

He told Rabbi Boymel that the school had to open because the future of Torah education in Nahariya was resting on the small shoulders of these three young boys. A school for girls was not enough to sustain a community, because without a place for the sons to learn Torah, families would not be able to progress together in Yiddishkeit. The net result would be a gradual decline in the girls' school enrollment, and the eventual demise of the school.

And so when the school year began, Nahariya residents were greeted with the following "facts on the ground": the original building for the girls' school, a two-room addition to the original building to house new classes for the girls' school, and a new Torah school for boys.

An anti-religious organization went to the Nahariya city hall and lodged a complaint against the two-room addition to the girls' school. Despite the fact that the Keren had received all the necessary permits to build the addition, the municipality acquiesced and revoked the permit. A few days later Keren officials received a letter from the municipality notifying them that the new classrooms would be demolished on December 2.

According to law, the recipients of such notifications have the right to appeal the decision, and no action can be taken against them until they have a chance to file the appeal. The teachers of the school were therefore astounded when they arrived at work only to discover that a crane from the municipality had arrived at the school at 6 a.m. on Thursday, November 9, and, without advance warning, reached over the school's fence and demolished the structure.

The destruction was total. Not only was the temporary addition destroyed, but also everything that was inside -- desks, chairs, blackboards, books and even the mezuzas on the doors.

We Want the Real Thing

Kiryat Shmuel is one of four "kiryas" that dot the shoreline between Haifa and Nahariya. Most of the residents of these small communities define their religious orientation as "semi-traditional," which in Israel means that although they are not anti-religious, their connection to Yiddishkeit is tenuous at best -- maybe a short visit to shul on Shabbos morning followed by Kiddush and off to the soccer game is par for the course for many such families.

So when Keren Nesivos Moshe received a request from a group of Kiryat Shmuel parents to open a school in their town, it would have been forgivable for the Keren to think that the parents had dialed the wrong number.

But the parents had decided all on their own that they wanted their children to receive a Torah education. And what is more, as they explained to the Keren's directors, they wanted the "real thing." The Keren agreed to open a school, and 28 children, boys and girls, signed up for the first year.

It is standard policy for the Keren's schools to have mixed classes until children reach the fourth grade, and so this was the policy that the Keren intended to follow in Kiryat Shmuel. But the parents did not agree. When they said they wanted the real thing, they meant it. The school opened with separate classes for boys and girls.

Another community is also showing some surprising stubbornness when it comes to getting real Yiddishkeit. When the Keren opened a school in Tzoran in 1998, the parents of the 20 children who enrolled were completely nonreligious. The school has since grown to 240 children -- and moved to bigger quarters in the nearby town of Kadima -- and now most of the parents are shomer Shabbos.

In Kadima they are encountering resistance. Though many of the school's parents live there, there are also militant secularists who have formed "Kadima Bechofshiyut" which means, essentially, Keep Kadima Secular. They regard the Nesivos Moshe school as the vanguard of chareidi influence (and perhaps rightly so, though with full rights to be so) and are fighting it every step of the way.

A Treat For The Eyes, Tranquility For The Soul

According to Rabbi Boymel, after seeing the results of the past two years, he is even more convinced that Keren Nesivos Moshe has only just begun to tap the vast potential that lays buried within communities that are generally perceived to be staunchly secular.

The Keren's high school for girls in Haifa, for example, started out with just 15 pupils when it opened its doors in 1999. Today, just one year later, it has 61.

"When we held our first meeting for the parents," Rabbi Boymel says, "about seventy percent of the mothers didn't cover their hair. This year, 99 percent of the mothers wore hats or sheitels.

"The girls learning at this school are transforming their homes," he says.

Afula is another huge success story. The 18 original children enrolled at the school have since been joined by 169 others. This school body represents some 200 families that are now becoming fully committed to a Torah way of life.

Boymel says that what is happening in Nahariya, Kiryat Shmuel, Tzoran and Afula is being replicated in numerous cities throughout Eretz Yisroel. The overall enrollment of just 388 children in the Keren's first year has now grown to an impressive force of 2,050 students learning in 29 kindergartens, 12 elementary schools and 3 high schools.

For some people these numbers may be a cause for worry. But for others, it's the best news they have heard from this troubled region of the world in the longest time.

"Live and Let Live" in Kadima

by B. Kahn

Orly Shocker is a resident of Kadimah. Not so long ago, she was far from Torah and mitzvah observance. But as she testifies about herself: "Four years ago, I decided to realize my right to live as a Torah and mitzvah observant Jew." Her letter to the members of the Kadimah Hachofshit organization and the few who oppose the school among the secular residents of Kadimah--a letter which was distributed in the mailboxes of all of the settlement's residents--was also published in Ha'aretz under the title: "Live and Let Live." She writes:

Besiyato deShmaya. My name is Orly Shocker and I am 34. My parents made aliya 50 years ago straight into the arms of Kadimah, whose houses then were dilapidated shacks. I was born, raised and educated in Kadimah, in the lap of the Noar Ha'Oved veHalomed. I got married and gave birth to children in Kadimah, and built my dream home here.

Until now, everything seemed fine. However, four years ago, I decided to realize my right to live as a Torah observant Jew, as did scores of other members of our community. We wanted a school which would suit our lifestyle. Yes, we also want "a good life." After facing many efforts and attempts to thwart our dream, we succeeded in opening a Torah school: Bais Yaakov (Yipes!).

We didn't ask anyone to help us, even though we pay taxes like all law abiding citizens, and our money goes to subsidize other schools, and sometimes for cultural activities in which we don't participate. However, for some reason, our school bothered a number of residents. Maybe they're afraid that we will put kippot and tsitsit on them. (Fear not.)

Stop with the stories about closing roads [on Shabbos] and gaining control of your homes. You claim that children who don't live in Kadimah come to study here, while at the very same time you are fighting to establish a regional junior high school here. In the past you struggled to establish a school for special children here. The place where Bais Yaakov is located today was an abandoned hulk, and functioned only as a drug den and a home for activities of the Satan's Cult. (There were write-ups about that in the papers.) Why didn't the residents complain then? Is our Torah school worse?

Please don't worry. It cost us, the parents, quite enough money. Lunches cost money!

A number of weeks ago, a pamphlet was circulated that said: "Don't let the chareidim gain control of the settlement." So chevra, understand: the chareidim aren't trying to take control. Those chareidim are the cream of Kadimah's crop, who have decided to do teshuva. (They have a right to do teshuva.) We were raised and grew up with Kadimah, and here everyone respected his fellow--rich or poor, secular or religious, educated or not so educated. We have a right just like every one else to raise our children in Yiddishkeit, here, in our Kadimah, where I was born, where I grew up. Kadimah is my home, and here I shall remain.

By the way, I can also bring signatures by the thousands, and without going from door to door and strewing hatred. Think: does our school really bother anyone? Enough! Stop with the vain hatred and accept that which is different. The State is burning under our feet, and you have nothing better to do than occupy yourselves with this hatred.

 

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