Am Yisrael lives because Jews of every stripe stood together today

 

Six killed, 6 seriously injured in Jerusalem as terrorists open fire on bus, pedestrians

 

Photo Courtesy Times Of Israel/Chaim Goldberg

In the civilized chaos that defines our modern reality, an ultra-Orthodox man—someone many would hurry to dismiss as detached from Israel’s battlefront—rose in defense of life. At the Ramot Junction bus stop, where two Palestinian gunmen opened fire in broad daylight, six people were killed and over twenty injured. But history turned its gaze in an unexpected direction. A  Haredi soldier and an armed civilian, identified as a Haredi man, neutralized the attackers.

There is a grim irony here: while today our community proved its willingness to defend, many within it still believe the opposite—rejecting conscription and labeling service as betrayal. But when crisis strikes, heroes emerge regardless of ideology or uniform. It’s time to ask: are we honoring those heroes, or are we betraying them with our silence?

Our nation has survived thanks to the unexpected defenders—warrior-yeshiva students, craftsmen turned security guards, battalions formed against existential threats. When we forget that legacy, we weaken our collective identity. Today’s act of courage is not an outlier; it is a call to remember. 

The Haredi man defied the dominant narrative: that Haredim are removed from national duty, that Torah and arms cannot coexist. 

It is worth reminding ourselves: Haredim were once soldiers. They fought for the walls of Jerusalem, for the shtetlach of Poland, for the survival of their families in forests and cellars, and later for the State of Israel itself. 

The tragedy of our time is that an entire community has been taught to forget its own story. The courage of their grandfathers is no longer seen as their inheritance. Yet history still whispers the truth: the Torah world has always produced warriors. And if destiny calls again, it can do so once more.

So how did the narrative shift? Partly it was survival strategy: the Chazon Ish, in the fledgling years of the State, sought to preserve the flame of Torah by carving out narrow exemptions for yeshiva men after the Holocaust. That temporary policy hardened into ideology. Over time, what began as an emergency measure evolved into a claim that army service and Torah are inherently incompatible. History, however, testifies otherwise.

Even in the earliest years of the State, the religious Zionist brigades like the “Netzah Yehuda” unit were overwhelmingly traditional. To speak of “Haredim do not fight” is to ignore entire battalions of Torah-observant Jews who fought in ’48, ’56, ’67, and ’73. 

Let no one dare say again, “Haredim don’t fight.” The bus stop in Ramot is the witness, and the dead are the testimony. May we never forget — and may we never again divide ourselves when the enemy is united against us.