16/2/99

Helping the haredim out

    Mendel began hearing his own voices when he was 17. A haredi of the extremist Lithuanian persuasion, he wondered if God exists.
    He had to know, and so one day, he snuck into the basement of his yeshiva with a box of matches. It was Shabbat. He lit one, then a few more. When the yeshiva did not fall down upon his head, he was almost sure.
    Soon after, he bought a cheese sandwich. Then, he went to another store and bought some meat. He ate them together. He waited. He didn't die. And that's how he knew there is no God.
    At the age of 22, Mendel, a standout student, told his father he did not want to continue studying in yeshiva. On the spot, he was thrown out of his home and into the street, in the middle of the night.
    Now, two years later, Mendel is, like his father, an extremist -- but ultra-secular, profoundly anti-Orthodox. He lives with the Kfir family (the names have been masked) in the Sharon area.
    Mendel fled into the arms of an organization, Hillel, that assists haredim leaving the fold.
    "It must be stressed, we are not anti-haredi," says Anat Nevo, a Jerusalemite active in Hillel. "We're not 'missionaries,' as the haredim call us. We don't actively encourage them to leave. These people need help, a lot of help, and we fill that need." Knowing how harrowing and tortuous the secularization process is, "it would not be moral for us to persuade them."
    Hillel helps only those determined enough to cope; their motivation must be ideological, their conviction must be strong.
    Children up to the age of 18 -- some are even married -- occasionally turn to Hillel, which refers them to the municipality's channels but still provides background services, such as foster families.
    "The youngest we helped was a 13-year-old. Two months after his bar mitzva, he called us -- on Yom Kippur -- and said, 'Everyone's in shul. I'm at home, eating, and talking on the phone.'"
    The challenges they face are phenomenal. Even adults have to learn absolutely everything, and worse, unlearn everything they know. "They have a different set of truths. For instance hormones, basic anatomy, things that for us are normal, explainable; for haredim, they are damnable," and explained away with untruths.
    "The boys have no secular education, not even basic math. Girls do study a bit more, but usually at a very low standard." They lack even minimal cultural background; they have zero knowledge, useless education, no money, no means to earn, they are as prepared for society as a four-year-old. "The advantage is that they are very intelligent, curious, very strong."
    One who could not benefit from this infrastructure was Shai Horovitz. He founded Hillel eight years ago, when he left the haredi fold at the age of 17. Two years later, struggling economically and unable to get the services Hillel now provides, he returned to his former life.

MENDEL HAS lived with David and Batya Kfir for the past eight months.
    "When he came to us,ג€ David says, ג€œhe was very, very suspicious about everything. He asked, 'What are you profiting from this?' Every time there's a disagreement he says, 'You want me to leave?' He doesn't understand it's permissible to argue.
    "What, you think when my children and I disagree, it means they have to leave home? Well yes, that's what he thought."
    David has done a lot to temper Mendel's hot hostility. "His first Friday with us, I told him to call his parents, and wish them Shabbat shalom. He said he wasn't speaking to them anymore, but I insisted. At the beginning they behaved terribly when he called. They shouted at him. They demanded to know the hechsher (kashrut supervision) in our house. After some time he snapped at them: 'Have you ever asked if I even have food to eat? If I have a bed to sleep in? All you care about is the hechsher?! I eat pork because that's all there is.' And he hung up. Still, he calls every week.
    "He was invited to the wedding of a friend from his yeshiva days, and he wanted to make a point by dressing in sneakers, jeans and a tee-shirt. I said to him, Mendel, this is not how you dress for a wedding. He said 'I want them to see me as I am.' I insisted he show respect, that he dress properly and even put on a kipa -- which is exactly what I would do. To make his point, it was enough that he went without tzitzit or peyot."
    Mendel's ignorance, and naivete, are shocking, quaint, even sweet.
    "He knows that every town has a Herzl Street, but he doesn't know why. He never heard of Herzl. Never heard of the Yom Kippur War, not a thing.
    "One day he said 'David, I need advice. I was on the bus, a young female soldier got on, and even though the bus was empty, she sat next to me. What should I have understood from this?' Mendel is very good-looking, you see. I said maybe she felt an attraction; did you speak to her? 'No, how do you speak to a woman?' I said, talk about the weather, the bus driver, anything; ask where she's going. And he said, 'Just like that, to speak without anything to say?'"
    Sex is, in fact, the most vexing challenge in Mendel's school of life. "We really don't have answers for him," says David. "He'll learn, but probably the hard way."
    David, too, has been learning about life, and what Mendel reveals about haredi ways is shocking.
    "The haredim tell their children about the worst things: rape and murder and crime. Mendel understood that the secular world is full of [vipers].  Kibbutzim are depicted as whorehouses where children don't even know who their parents are.
    "Mendel says that the [propaganda] they get is worse than what Hamas children get.
    According to Anat Nevo, all newly-former haredim have the same startling request: a secular Shulchan Aruch. Mendel did too. David recalls that "after a couple of weeks, he asked us for 'the book of rules' so he could learn conventional manners."
    Mendel assumed there is a universal guidebook detailing acceptable secular behavior. With a lot of help, he has come to understand that only his senses can teach him this.

    Hillel's hotline numbers operate twice weekly, 6-10 p.m.:
(02) 622-1359 and (03) 528-4494.