Rikva A. and Rachel R., women employed in
the secular workfield in top positions and formerly of the
secular society of the settlement, Tzoran, tell of the
spiritual upheaval in their lives, and of their struggle to
establish a Chinuch Atzmai Torah school in their settlement.
These are pioneer women who sent their children to a school
which was comprised of a mere three students, and who stood
staunchly against brutal secular resistance and fierce anti-
chareidi opposition.
"Three students were enrolled in the room of
an apartment that was rented for the school. A pure and
wholesome kriyas Shema reverberated from their mouths
and echoed sweetly beyond the walls of this erstwhile school.
It fortified us, the persecuted parents."
Rivka A. reminisces about those difficult
moments that strengthened her bond to Yiddishkeit, faith in
the Creator, and a realization that their eventual victory
was a heaven-sent miracle.
Tens of violently opposed demonstrators
besieged the gate of the Torah school: people not only far
removed from religion but virulently determined not to allow
the datiyim a foothold in their town. Hatred blazed
from their eyes, almost fumed from their nostrils, screamed
out from their every sinew. They held placards against
`religious coercion' and the establishment of a Torah school
in their secular town.
When the dedicated teachers arrived, these
demonstrators, whose ranks included professionals and high
positioned employees in government offices - in other words,
the elite - began to whistle-shriek and pound loudly upon
makeshift kettle-drums.
"It was the first time that I was ever
confronted with such an outburst of violent hatred towards
the religious," Rivka recalls with recoil. "I don't know what
sudden strength suffused me during those moments, but it must
have partly been a self-defensive instinct. After all, I
myself was not that strong yet in my religious beliefs,
still, I fought like a lioness defending the survival of the
Torah school in this place.
"They screamed demonstratively: `Down with
the chareidi invasion of Tzoran! This town is a
secular stronghold and it's going to stay that way! We won't
have any infiltration of your ilk. You won't open any
religious school here!' My husband retorted forcefully, `When
we came here ten years ago, we were from the pioneers of
Tzoran, even before there was running water and electricity.
I have a right to have my child attend school here, in
whatever school I feel is right for him!'
"We scheduled a parents' meeting in the
school one day. We came to the school - three parents, one
teacher and the principal: five women all told. No
announcment had been made of this meeting, but suddenly,
without warning, dozens of incensed demonstrators surrounded
the building and were shouting us down with screams and
threats. They spray painted and tarred the building
disgustingly and smeared all kinds of offensive graffiti on
the walls. I surveyed this savage, bestial scene with hot
tears rolling down my cheeks. Did their hatred really reach
such drastic proportions? My throat was dry and choked at the
sight of this hatred directed at innocent children who only
wanted to study Torah. When such incidents take place abroad,
the authorities are quick to come to the rescue of the Jewish
community. What was happening here?
"The demonstrators kept up their abuse. They
pointed to us three mothers and screamed, `You brought this
tzora to Tzoran! You datiyim will lower the
value of our homes!' How did we succeed in keeping our cool?
We reassured ourselves that it was to our credit that we
`brought this `tzora' to Tzoran. We could only be
proud that we were not part of that savage rabble outside.
"The demonstrators saw that we were not
reacting, and this incensed them all the more. They stamped
their feet, hissed, screamed savagely and shouted, `You
belong to our camp! What are you doing on the other side of
the fence!'
"We remained entrenched, fortified by our
determination not to budge, strong in our spirit, in our
faith. We would fight it out and not surrender an inch."
Rachel R., Rivka's companion, who played an
equally vital role in defending her child's right to a
religious education, tells, "The frequent mass demonstrations
attended by inflamed mobs of people acting like animals, only
served to reinforce us to persevere, to see it through. I
suddenly asked myself, `Had I really been concerned once of
what these people would say about my return to Torah
Judaism? These, who are considered progressive, modern,
enlightened people? The elite? People who are out to scare
six- and seven-year-olds with big dogs, who behave like wild
Indians? And I once belonged to this society? Never
again!"
Rachel says that the majority of the
demonstrators did not even understand the issue; they were
just blindly taking their cue from the others. They stood
there and shouted because they had been told to do so. They
were convinced that the local council was supporting the
school financially, which was a big lie, since this was a
Chinuch Atzmai project.
"We took turns, we parents, to stand guard.
Each day another parent would stand by the school to make
sure that nothing happened to our children. We accompanied
them to and from school and were very fearsome that the
demonstrations would affect them negatively and have
traumatic repercussions. We even considered having a
psychologist come and talk to them.
"There was one great point of light, a source
of heavenly encouragment: our children seemed to take it all
in stride, with no bad emotional effects. it can even be said
- to the great credit of the staff - that our children
enjoyed attending school, and during vacation, actually
missed their lessons. Even if I had harbored any doubts about
my role in fighting for the right of the school to exist in
view of the terrible difficulties that its establishment
encountered, I had them resolved very quickly. The children
returned home each day very calm, polite, happy, full of
respect for all religious values, obedient - exactly what we
had hoped to reap from this kind of education.
"One day, my children invited some of their
friends over. They sat around the table and discussed which
brochos to make over the refreshments. No longer the
raucous exchanges reflecting an empty world and its even more
vapid entertainment media. This was measured conversation,
serious, thoughtful, intelligent discussion al taharas
hakodesh. Pure and beautiful, music to our ears. And when
they finished eating, they unanimously said `Thank you'! and
began clearing off the table without a word on my part. I was
deeply moved. This behavior was altogether new to me. I was
enchanted.
"Up until that time, our children had
regarded anything done for them as something coming to them,
their perogative. It was only normal procedure that Mother
prepared food, did the cleaning, saw to it that the house ran
smoothly with all the work it entailed. When and how did they
develop this sensitivity, this awareness, this consideration
towards me? It can only be attributed to the religious
education they were absorbing at school. It had changed their
entire attitude and outlook!
"Even before I became religious, myself, I
had recoiled from much of the so-called value system of
secular education. I had always told myself that I would want
to raise my children differently than the accepted social
norm; there was something repellent and wrong with it. But
what could I do? I thought. Swim against the current? Be
socially different? I had never agreed with the attitude that
`parents have to be friends with their children'. This was
not right. Parents deserved respect, and it was our Torah
school that truly realized my aspirations with regards to
child upbringing. I was convinced very quickly that I was
swimming in the right current."
The most amazing incident that took place
with the school was the court case, Rachel reminisces, in
which her husband represented the parent body. "Very often,
court orders were issued to shut down the school. The biggest
absurdity was that the demonstrators complained about an
educational institution being housed in a residence, when
Tzoran has twelve private kindergartens that were not under
any supervision whatsoever, in private homes. But no one ever
complained about them.
"In the final court session, we were witness
to phenomenal Divine Providence. The courtroom was filled
that day with half the residents of Tzoran, people who were
brazenly, arrogantly fighting to shut the school down. The
atmosphere was charged and tense when the judge announced
that this would be the final, determining hearing. `I am not
prepared to deal with this matter any more.'
"The hearing was constantly punctuated by
catcalls from the spectators. During the recess, my husband
phoned me and said brokenly, `Rachel, it looks like our
school is going to be closed down.' I felt my head spinning
and my stomach turning over. A shudder ran through me at the
thought of all our efforts coming to naught. And then I felt
a counterforce surging up from inside. It couldn't be! That a
place where innocent little children were learning Torah be
closed down? My trust in Hashem assumed a new concrete
dimension. My shock made way for a firm stock in my faith in
Hashem.
"My husband came home from the trial smiling
from ear to ear. `Rachel,' he said to me, `if not for an
outright miracle, I don't know what could have saved us
today! After the recess, the lawyer representing the school
looked very agitated. I was sure we had lost the case. He was
groping for some lifeline, something to latch on to, as he
burrowed among his papers again and again. Suddenly, he
discovered that a crucial document stating that the building
was being used for something irregular and was not fit for a
particular use, was missing from the file. A search was made
in the court files but this paper was missing here, too. This
very document could not be found anywhere. How this came
about, I can't imagine, because as far as we all knew, a copy
of it appeared in each file, and this was the very basis for
the whole trial."
An outright miracle. Even though the chances
for winning this case were close to nil, the salvation came
at the last moment. From Heaven. No need to describe the
chagrin of the demonstrators, who left the courtroom abashed,
heads bowed. They were convinced that their lawyer had
collaborated with us...
