Chabad Soldier Has Kippah Snatched In Meah Shearim After He Was Thrown Out Of Farbrengen

 

 Journalist Yisrael Shapira described on Kikar Hashabat how a Chabad-affiliated soldier was painfully mistreated when he attended a 19 Kislev Farbrengen in Meah Shearim. The soldier was heckled and asked to leave and one person even stole his Kippah.

Shapira contrasted this with the behavior of Rabbi Amram Bloi, one of the greatest Kanoim [zealots], who was a Torah scholar and a God-fearing man but his views were not accepted by the general public. Despite his opinions, he did not have personal animosity towards his opponents and was one of the greatest lovers of the Jewish people. His fight against Zionism (which, in his view, opposed Judaism and the Torah of Israel) did not contradict his closeness to and love for every Jew.

In his home, one could meet all kinds of people from various sectors, circles, and communities—ranging from the poor of Mea Shearim to the students of the Mir Yeshiva, who would freely enter his house, eat, and be honored, as well as soldiers in IDF olive green uniforms. Shapira even brought a newspaper cutting from 1966 which proves his point. The Maariv newspaper describes how officers from the IDF officer training school visited Rabbi Bloi’s home and were entertained by him and his wife. The officers stayed for a while and conducted an exchange of views with Rabbi Bloi, later describing it as an “unforgettable experience.”

Shapira shared  the letter he received from Rabbi Eli K., a God-fearing Jew and Torah scholar from the Chabad community who is currently serving in his third reserve duty round of the year in Hebron.

“Third round of reserve duty. Shabbat arrived in the Hebron hills. There were a few hours until the next shift. I looked for friends to gather with for a Chassidic farbrengen, to learn and discuss the teachings of Chassidus. I searched and found a notice about a central event at the Tanya Synagogue in Mea Shearim.

“The father of the rabbi of the synagogue, Rabbi Ze’ev Dov Slonim zt”l, the Chief Rabbi of central Jerusalem and a seventh-generation descendant of the Alter Rebbe, blessed me over a decade ago on the 19th of Kislev with a wonderful blessing that still accompanies me. This farbrengen seemed like the appropriate venue for such a day.

“I was not seeking conflict, heaven forbid. I assumed it was possible that some children might speak harshly to me if I came in uniform with my weapon, and I decided that I would come anyway. It is well-known among us that for Chassidus, one needs self-sacrifice. Naivety, and probably foolishness on my part.

“I came innocently, hoping to rejoice with the one who redeemed us, the one who promised to redeem those who come to rejoice with him. Is there a greater promise than this, in particular, and in general?

“Then a few children shouted at me, calling me “Haredi-Zionist” at the entrance to the neighborhood. Fine. That’s exactly why I came. I sat there for about an hour peacefully, until a few teenagers came inside to tell me that it was not acceptable to sit in their neighborhood with a uniform and weapon.

“A few minutes later, the Gabbai approached me, his face pale. He apologized profusely. It was as if the “Alter Rebbe’s table” had turned into Lot’s house, and the streets of Sodom, yet Lot protected his guests—no, not here.

“Who am I to judge? They must continue living among the troublemakers, not me. I am a guest, a human being, not a pair of angels blinding people with their hands.
The Gabbai said he was sorry, but they could not continue the event with me inside.
Loud screams were heard from outside. To avoid ruining the event they had worked so hard for, I left, and all the neighborhood troublemakers followed me. A few brave souls from the farbrengen joined me, even though I relieved them of the burdensome mission.

“A sweet young man from one of the older communities led us. Dressed in his Shabbat coat and shtreimel, as is customary even for bachelors who are Bar Mitzvah, he stated openly that he was against enlistment, but had learned in his parents’ home the importance of hospitality.

“A mob of roughnecks screamed hoarsely. Bottles were thrown.Even some pepper spray was sprayed in my direction.

“To my surprise, as we walked, some dear Jews from the neighborhood approached me, asking for a blessing from the one who had suffered indignities, for a proper marriage, for healthy children, for healing, for the return of children who had strayed from the path. I blessed everyone who asked.

“The seekers of blessings also received their share. With me, they were even gentle. I saw a bottle fly, and hands striking out. In the end, some coward snatched my kippah and ran.

“I sat among the crowd and told the screamers that I would not leave without my kippah. They should decide whether they want to continue suffering my presence in their neighborhood, or bring me my kippah. Someone brought it to me.

“I never imagined it would be like this. We left the neighborhood. I told the police officers, who someone must have called, that I had no intention of filing a complaint. Who has time and energy for that?

“At this point, I could finally bless my dedicated escorts with ease. They, for their part, were amazed at how calm the exit process was handled. Perhaps on the evening of the 20th of Kislev, I merited to participate with the Alter Rebbe, a day after his imprisonment, which he spent with his opponents who mocked him, a day where he suffered more than in prison…

“In my heart, there was mostly compassion. Compassion for the confused children who scream at someone who could be their father and refuse to obey adults who tried to calm them down. Teenagers, whose embarrass their elders. For their neighbors who are ashamed of them and know that this is not their way. The heroes among them, who stopped the violent acts with their bodies, did not escape my notice.

“For those who organized this beautiful farbrengen and had to deal with those children. I pray to the Creator of the world that He should take us all out of the dreadful exile, the exile of the mind, that we may mature and stop acting out of fear.”

Shapira summarized his approach to the incident.

“The event in Mea Shearim reflects a complex reality. The neighborhood’s residents see the presence of charedi soldiers as a deliberate attempt to influence the younger generation, especially during times of war, when the discourse around Haredi enlistment intensifies. The young people struggle to distinguish between someone coming innocently and someone seen as a “model” for Haredi-military integration.

As for the proposed comparison—just as a zealot knows not to burn Israeli flags on Independence Day near the Mercaz HaRav Yeshiva, a soldier should understand the significance of entering Mea Shearim in uniform. It is entering hostile territory that will almost certainly end in police intervention.

Rabbi Amram Bloi’s saying—”I fight against ideology, not against people”—was a beacon of wisdom in his time, and especially today, when the younger generation in Mea Shearim struggles to differentiate between ideological struggle and respect for others, it resonates even more strongly as a reminder of what has been lost: the ability to see the person behind the uniform, the soul beyond the ideology.