Unorthodox encounters with Israel’s ultra-Orthodox community

SHARON OFFENBERGER: One size does not fit all but one thing is certain: the impact of Haredi integration in mainstream Israel is inevitable

IN THE 1990S, as a tourist, I remember Jerusalem as quintessentially Israeli, but over the years the secular population seems to have moved on and the Haredim moved in. As a teenager, I had a brief and impressionable romance with the notion of religious life, predictably influenced by Mt Scopus Counterpoint camp.

But once living in Israel, my view of the ultra-Orthodox largely developed through the car window, as I drove through the streets of Jerusalem. Heavy European garb in summer, plastic bags protecting hats in winter. Bright yellow “Moshiach” (Messiah) billboards dotted along major roads.

I was living in Israel in 2013 when Haredi spiritual leader and Chief Rabbi Ovadia Yosef (z”l) passed away. It was coined “the largest funeral in Israel history” – some 800,000 followers shuffling through the streets of Jerusalem, all dressed in traditional black jackets, white shirts and black hats so as to compose quite a historic photo as well.

I paid a bereavement visit to the Rabbi Yosef’s family in their apartment in Har Nof, an ultra-Orthodox neighbourhood in Jerusalem. At the time, I was managing a peacebuilding program for the EU. Always looking for new allies, I was surprised to find them in the Haredi world and even more so, in Rav Ovadia Yosef’s family.

His daughter Adina Bar Shalom was a trailblazer in her community, working to give a voice to Haredi women on political and security issues affecting Israel. Unfortunately, Israeli politics can be cruel to newcomers, and she was thwarted in her attempts to circumvent the ban against women in Haredi political parties by reaching the Knesset independently.

Through these contacts, I also met and befriended Rabbi Menashe, who was involved in interreligious dialogue. I became so casual with Rabbi Menashe that instead of answering the phone with the traditional greeting “Kavod Harav” (loosely, Honourable Rabbi) I would open the conversation with a friendly “maaaaatttteee!”. Well, not exactly, but that was the sentiment.