Meet the young, secular Israelis flirting with religion

There’s a new play on at Beit Lessin Theatre in Tel Aviv called “Datilonim”, a combination of dati (religious) and chilonim (secular). It's a romantic comedy that follows a young secular couple, Dafna and Avichai, navigating the lead up to their wedding when the unimaginable happens: Avichai is propelled by an unrelenting, deep desire to turn religious.

"Would you say this is common?" I turn to my Israeli friend Amit*, while we wait for the split dati and chiloni crowd to take their seats.

"A lot more than you’d think," 25-year-old Amit, who is Jewish, non-binary and raised secular, replies. "I was seriously thinking about this exact trend this morning, I was thinking about how if all else fails, at least we’ll have our Judaism."

The traditional image of the secular Israeli is someone who rejects religion as the dregs of the shtetl. But since making aliyah a year ago, I have come across many secular Israelis like Amit, who are driven to fill in the blanks of their Jewish identity rather than erase it.

It’s hard to define today's generation of secular Israelis because the last reputable survey about religious observance in Israel was done almost a decade ago in 2016 by the Pew Research Centre. Most religious observance surveys – the most recent being pre-COVID in 2020 – only classify observance as Orthodox or secular, ignoring grey areas in which Jewish culture, spirituality and literature are being infused into the lives of many of Israel's secular Gen-Zs (those born after 1995).

Amit is interested in exploring Judaism in part to integrate their queer and Jewish identities, and to see if they can be compatible.

"Judaism allows me to be more whole than any ideology. Judaism is smart and interesting, it gives me a connection to god and offers different attitudes for thinking about life and society," Amit explained.

"In terms of my secular identity, it definitely does [threaten it], that’s why calling myself secular does not fully characterise me. And in terms of my queerness… [this] is why I’m on an important but hard process of exploring if my queer and Jewish identities can be compatible."

But Amit thinks the ideological climate after October 7 is also driving the trend to explore religion.

"For my parents' generation it was enough to be a secular Israeli… but today, Zionism as a secular project without deep Jewish values is not a large enough motivation to keep paying the price that it requires."

Matan Zeevi grew up on an established secular kibbutz in northern Israel. He has since become religious, keeping shabbat, attending Gemara lessons and learning from the Zohar – a kabbalistic text.

"As a secular Jew I’m in a real place to ask questions. It’s exciting for secular Jews to be free enough not only to have eastern philosophies, but to not be threatened by the idea of a 'Jewish Society' – which is mine also."

Rather than avoiding or resenting the Rabinate's enforcement of Jewish law on wider Israeli society, Zeevi sees the strictures as a reason to learn more. "I want the discussion to be on women’s rights, LGBTQ+ rights, and not Judaism versus liberalism. I want the debate to become Judaism versus Judaism. Only from these Jewish values can I truly claim my need to be free, equal… [and] be part of this rich, inner Jewish debate."

Does this mean Zeevi is going to become religious? "Depends which day you ask me. Maybe religious isn’t the right word, maybe more Jewish?"

The charged dichotomy between religious and secular Israeli society is often depicted in the media, but there’s been a boom in interest for spaces that fuse the two, allowing Israelis across the spectrum to explore their Judaism, Zionism and spirituality without conditions of observance.

Emblematic of this shift is Mabua, one of the largest networks of pluralist betei midrashim (houses of learning) for Israelis in their 20s. Through its syllabus of secular, Jewish and Zionist texts, Mabua seeks to provide a framework for the "renewed mainstream of Israeli society” to delve into their heritage in order to “cultivate a new breed of Israelis”. Mabua is best known for its annual summer Elul program, which sees 200 Israeli young adults from across the religious spectrum take part in 40 days of intensive Jewish learning.

Hila Cohen, who co-heads Mabua's Tel Aviv branch, says they have seen an increase in numbers and demand over the last few years – primarily from many secular Israelis who are keen to find their Judaism "from a cultural point of view, not necessarily religious". 

"The first secular Israelis, such as Bialik, had a religious background. As the generations went on, that secularism deepened and tradition weakened, so much so that there are some Jewish kids born here who don't know their context and connection."

It’s not just Mabua: Kesher Yehudi, Shteygen, and Mitchabrim are all examples of projects responding to this phenomenon and drawing secular Israelis towards Jewish content in an approachable manner.

Cohen believes many Gen-Z secular Israelis feel more secure than their parents’ generation, with an attitude of "if I learn about something, it doesn’t necessarily change me [or] have to define me". 

There are also pockets of secular society, including Israeli hostages and their families, who have become religious during the current Israel-Hamas conflict.

Such a public pivot in tradition, seen for example in ex-hostage Agam Berger’s testimonies around faith during and post captivity, will likely prompt ripple effects. This may include more secular Israelis turning to Judaism as well as increased connectivity between religious streams of Israeli society.

In the play “Datilonim”, Dafna and Avichai call off the wedding but, heartbroken, find their way back to each other and marry. Both make concessions and compromises. Through their mutual hope, understanding and need for each other, they are able to begin building their blended, yet shared, future. 

It's a plot twist that rings true to an increasing number of young Israelis.

*Name changed to protect privacy.