Published: 4 March 2019
Last updated: 5 March 2024
ON A RECENT SHABBAT afternoon walk through Ripponlea, the heart of Melbourne’s Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) Adass community, my husband and I saw a group of young boys flocking round some gorgeously souped-up vintage cars parked across from the Adass synagogue.
The boys had distinctive Haredi clothes, hairstyle and headwear. But like any other boys their age would be, they were wide-eyed and animated at the sight of these cars. We heard them talking about how close they could get, clearly concerned about the prohibition against even touching a car on Shabbat. Interestingly, some boys stood well back and others got much closer for a good look – because on this practice as in all things, even Haredim differ.
A tendency to see Haredim as homogenous in views and practice is unfortunate, as is the related phenomenon that people who are otherwise firm advocates of religious freedom and pluralism, often find it difficult to respect the rights of Haredim to live as they do.
So it’s both interesting and a bit thrilling see the popularity of the Israeli TV series Shtisel, currently airing on Netflix, about a Haredi community set in Geula, in Jerusalem. Netflix doesn’t publish its ratings but anecdotal evidence is that Shtisel has been hugely successful.
It’s easy to see why. The series does what good literature, TV and film do best - it takes us into other lives and gives us insight into and empathy with unfamiliar experiences.
The series centres on a family of a widowed patriarch, Rab Shulem Shtisel who appears to be a pillar of ultra-Orthodoxy, a principal of a Talmud Torah (religious school) for boys, and father of grown children also living traditional lives.
Close up, of course, things are much more complex. One of his daughters is estranged after marrying a Chabadnik ba’al teshuva (someone not born into ultra-Orthodoxy) and now lives far from Jerusalem in a community which does not meet his approval.
His son Akive, doesn’t quite fit into ultra-Orthodox life despite his clear love of tradition and practice. Kive’s artistic talent and sensibilities make aspects of Haredi life challenging in ways his father struggles to understand. Another daughter, Giti, struggles in secret to hide that her marriage is deeply and shamefully troubled. Her husband Lippe is not a scholar and the limited life options afforded by his education and communal attitudes combine with his impulsive nature to produce severe consequences.
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