Jerusalem Post The enormous study hall at Jerusalem’s Mercaz Harav yeshiva has for years been a powerful and compelling sight on two particular days of celebration: Simhat Torah and Jerusalem Day. On these holidays, hundreds of students, either holding hands or linked shoulder to shoulder, dance around and around in a series of plodding circles. Hour after hour, they methodically, hypnotically, put one foot in, one foot out, while they sing in husky voices songs of praise to the Lord and the Land of Israel. It has always been an impressive display of spirituality, devotion and unity.

But this year, a new, discordant note has come out of the yeshiva, which is commonly referred to as the flagship of the national-religious movement. The spirituality and devotion are still there, to be sure. But the unity has been shattered. Last month, Mercaz Harav split in two.

”That something like this could happen at Mercaz, where the rabbis always preached unity and love of Israel, is incredible,” says one former student. “It is a tragedy.”

Mercaz Harav, founded in 1924 by Avraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, has for the last three decades occupied a role in the national-religious camp that extends far beyond its 500 yeshiva students and 200 kollel members.

Mercaz is more than a yeshiva. It has become synonymous with the teachings of Kook, the first pre-state chief rabbi; with religious nationalism; with Gush Emunim; with messianic Zionism. The whole educational system of the national-religious camp, from elementary schools to girls’ high schools to hesder yeshivot, is full of educators who attended Mercaz or who look to it for spiritual guidance.

Because of the lofty position the yeshiva has occupied in the national- religious camp, almost as a seat of halachic and spiritual authority, the split will likely have ramifications that will be felt far beyond it. The yeshiva is politically right-wing, and religiously conservative, so any weakening of its authority may mean that more politically moderate and religiously liberal voices will be heard in the national- religious camp.

It is ironic, therefore, that the split took place over an issue that to outsiders seems minor, even trivial: The possible establishment at the yeshiva of an Education Ministry-sponsored teachers’ institute.

For the last 15 years, various hesder yeshivot have established teachers’ institutes to receive additional ministry funding and to provide students with something practical after many years of study. (Mercaz Harav is not a hesder yeshiva, and the students there generally do a much- shortened stint in the IDF when they are well into their twenties.)

The students enrolled in the teachers’ institutes get credit for the Talmud, philosophy and Bible classes they they take at yeshiva, and - after taking a number of pedagogic, English and math classes elsewhere - receive teaching certificates.

A few months ago, word spread that the head of Mercaz Harav, former chief rabbi Avraham Shapira, was interested in setting up such an institute at Mercaz. This led to the following letter, signed by six leading rabbis at the yeshiva, being posted at the entrance to Mercaz: “We believe that the establishment of the teachers’ institute inside the yeshiva lessens its reputation and damages the strength of Torah, which cannot join a spiritual partnership with any other side.”

The letter stated that a partnership with the Education Ministry would be akin to “idol worship, desecration of God’s name and, at the very least, cooperation with idol worship.”

The extremely harsh tone of the “clarification” elicited an equally harsh response from Shapira. Until the six rabbis apologized, he decreed, they were suspended from the yeshiva. This group of rabbis included Rabbi Zvi Tau, who many view as the spiritual heir to Avraham Kook’s son, Zvi Yehuda Kook, and - along with Shapira - the leading personality at the yeshiva since Zvi Yehuda’s death in 1982. Shapira chastised the men for abrogating clear halachic guidelines against disputing one’s rabbi, arguing with him, or setting up a competing yeshiva.

Tau and the others refused to apologize. Instead, they broke away and set up a yeshiva in a synagogue that housed a dwindling minyan in Jerusalem’s Kiryat Menahem neighborhood, some 15 minutes’ drive way from the mother yeshiva in Kiryat Moshe. Explaining the extremely harsh language of the letter to his students, Tau said, “The letter was written with some pathos, with the intention of shocking and setting off all the alarms.”

The name of the new yeshiva, Har Hamor, is taken from a verse in the Song of Songs that reads, “Until the day cools, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh (har hamor).’” The significance of the name is clear, says one student at the new institution: the yeshiva is temporary until the heat dissipates and the shadows fade over Mercaz. But judging from the strident tone of the letter that precipitated the crisis, and Shapira’s unequivocal response, this could take a long time.

For weeks, leading figures in the national-religious camp, including rabbis Haim Druckman, Haifa Chief Rabbi She’ar-Yashuv Cohen and Shlomo Aviner, have tried to get the sides back together, but to no avail. One student who broke away from Shapira maintains that, although the institute was the trigger for the chasm, the tensions between the two rabbis - both ideological and personal - have been there for years.

”Had there not been personal problems between the two, there would not have been a split,” says Rabbi Avraham Brun, secretary-general of the Hesder Yeshiva Association. “This split shows that there cannot be two kings on the same throne.”

Tau is widely considered one of the closest disciples of Zvi Yehuda Kook, the spiritual mentor of Gush Emunim who headed Mercaz Harav for some 50 years after his father’s death in 1935. Zvi Yehuda was the unchallenged leader of the national-religious movement until his death.

According to reports that appeared in the NRP daily, Hatzofeh, Tau saw himself as the logical heir to Kook as dean of Mercaz Harav. But he was disappointed by the joint appointment of then-chief rabbi Shapira - who had long been associated with Mercaz - and Rabbi Shaul Yisraeli, another leading halachic figure. When Yisraeli died two years ago, Shapira became the sole head of the yeshiva. However, since Zvi Yehuda’s death, no one has matched the younger Kook’s authority.

”Rabbi Shapira is a halachic authority who can compete on even terms with anybody in the haredi world,” says Rabbi Benny Elon, the Moledet MK who studied for a number of years at Mercaz and considers himself a student of both Shapira and Tau.

According to Elon, Shapira - who studied in the haredi world - is a classic “halachic man” who studied in Lithuanian-style yeshivot, which emphasize the study of Talmud and Halacha. By contrast, Elon says, Tau - who studied at Mercaz - “is a philosopher.” Tau’s philosophy is vintage Kook, with an emphasis on Redemption, and the role the return of the People of Israel to the Land of Israel plays in this divine drama. What sets Tau - who defies easy classification - apart from so many others who share this world view is a fervent emphasis on what in Hebrew is called “malchutiyut,” the “royal” dignity of the state and its institutions.

”Rabbi Tau sees the state as holy, and also views the state’s institutions as holy,” says Benjamin Ish-Shalom, a former Hebrew University professor of Jewish philosophy who today heads Beit Morasha of Jerusalem - the Center for Advanced Jewish Studies. In this world view, “the Knesset represents the will of the people, and the will of the people is an authentic revelation of God’s will.”

What this means in practice is that the institutions of the state must be treated with almost regal respect, even if one disagrees with government policy. Tau objected to the decision by the yeshiva not to invite then-prime minister Yitzhak Rabin to ceremonies commemorating Jerusalem Day, a major holiday at the yeshiva. Tau strenuously objected to his students taking part in antigovernment demonstrations. He objected to the call signed by a number of leading figures in the national- religious camp directing soldiers to disobey orders to dismantle settlements or military installations in the territories. The day after Rabin was assassinated, Tau’s students found him at home, sitting on the floor, with ashes on his head and wearing a torn garment, the biblical trappings of mourning.

In Tau’s philosophy, “the Land of Israel is holy, but so is the State of Israel,” explains Bar-Ilan University political science professor Eliezer Don-Yehiya, who has written extensively on religious Zionism. “One must not harm the state in order to ensure the integrity of the land.” This outlook is at odds with that held by Shapira, who was at the forefront of rabbis who actively and openly opposed the Oslo Accords, to the point of calling on soldiers to disobey orders.

”Shapira is much less spiritualistic then Tau,” says Ish-Shalom. “He is a halachic person with a pragmatic approach. Shapira also sees the state as holy, but as a tool which can further other goals. In this he is close to the haredi way of thinking. If the state is not fulfilling the purpose, it can be brought back into line. His view is not at all mystical.

”Tau is closer to [Avraham and Zvi Yehuda] Kook in attributing holiness to the very framework of the state.”

These differences in nuance have led some to the mistaken conclusion that Tau is a political moderate, compared to Shapira. But, says Dov Schwartz, a Bar-Ilan University professor of Jewish philosophy, both believe in the necessity of settling all of Israel. Their differences are over tactics, not fundamental philosophy.

Indeed, two months ago it was Tau who was a major force behind the move of Mercaz Harav students into the house owned by Irving Moskowitz in Jerusalem’s Ras al-Amud neighborhood. There is no contradiction between this and his moderate view regarding active opposition to government policy, since he believes that the will of the people is that Jews should live in all parts of the city.

According to Schwartz, the Tau school is no more moderate in its ideological view of the territories, but rather is fearful of violence and where it can lead. In Tau’s world view, which is heavily influenced by kabbalistic thought, the nation is at the point where things must get very bad before redemption can come. Oslo and its obligations to cede parts of Eretz Yisrael is a manifestation of things getting very bad. Fighting with the secular world over the accords will only delay the redemptive process. As such, it must be avoided.

Elon says that as a team, Tau and Shapira complemented each other perfectly at Mercaz - Tau the philosopher, the maven on the writings of rabbis Avraham Yitzhak and Zvi Yehuda Kook; and Shapira the posek, the halachic arbiter. “together they expressed the ideal of Rabbi Kook,” says Elon. “One without the other will be lacking.”

Tension between a charismatic and a pragmatic leader is a common thread in the history of the national-religious movement, according to Schwartz, author of Emuna al Parashat Drachim (“Faith at the Crossroads: The Theology of the Religious Zionist Movement”) published last year. The rift between Tau and Shapira is nothing but a continuation of the struggles that have taken place throughout the history of the movement. It was preceded by struggles between Avraham Kook and Ya’acov Reines, the founder of the Mizrahi movement, which Kook objected to; and between the kabbalist and ascetic, Rabbi Ya’acov Moshe Harlap, who Kook’s followers thought should have been the state’s first chief rabbi, and Yitzhak Herzog, who got the job.

”The rational leaders are those who take into account the present situation,” Schwartz says, “while the charismatic ones choose to ignore the present situation and see themselves as working under Divine influence.”

The tension between the practical and the charismatic approaches is behind the disagreement over the teachers’ institute at the yeshiva, according to Schwartz. “Rabbi Shapira is more of a rationalist, a pragmatist. He knows that after 10 years or more of study, the students want something in hand. They don’t want to be without any profession, so there is a need to compromise.”

Tau, on the other hand, is a fervent believer in learning Torah for its own sake, without distractions.

Ish-Shalom maintains that the disagreement over the institute is not a minor issue, but a major ideological one. “Tau represents the approach that wants to maintain Mercaz as a pure spiritual center, a kind of spiritual preserve in a world dominated by pragmatism and careerism, ” he says. “He wants to produce pure, spiritual people, cut off from ambitions, even at the price of economic difficulties.”

German sociologist Max Weber, according to Ish-Shalom, taught that ideas, places, institutions and texts could have the sort of almost- magnetic charisma that some people exhibit. Mercaz Harav is a perfect example of this.

Until recently, one could walk into Mercaz, Ish-Shalom says, see the students studying for hours on end “and feel in the air that these people were on a different spiritual plane, unconcerned about the problems of the world. You have people like that at other yeshivot as well, but not to the same degree or in the same quantities.”

Ish-Shalom maintains that Shapira was concerned about the financial well-being of the yeshiva, and thought the institute would give it needed funds without affecting the yeshiva’s character.

But, Ish-Shalom says, a teachers’ institute at the yeshiva would have changed the yeshiva.

”It might not have changed the atmosphere in other yeshivot, but it would in Mercaz,” he says, “at least from what it was before, from that pure atmosphere of learning solely for learning’s sake. It would entail changes in the yeshiva’Õs schedule. It would mean students would have to write papers, go out and do field work, be tested on what they learned.

”No longer would the students only have to give an accounting to God, but also to the Education Ministry. It would be a different atmosphere.”

Since the establishment of Har Hamor, Shapira has said he does not intend, and never intended, that teachersÕ institute would hold classes at the yeshiva. Yet Tau has told his students he will still not go back to Mercaz.

”I feel torn between two worlds,” says one student who has studied at Mercaz for six years. His solution to the conflict is to divide his time between the two competing institutions, studying at Har Hamor in the morning, and Mercaz in the afternoon. Others, however, will have to choose between their spiritual parents.

The choice has created some strain between the students who follow each rabbi. But, according to one student who declined to give his name, the tension “has been around for quite a while. But it is not as if people have stopped talking to each other, it’s not like what happened when Degel Hatorah broke away from Agudat Yisrael.”

Though the students of both are still talking, they do not see each other as often. Those who broke away from Mercaz left not only the study hall, but the dormitories as well, and are living in rented flats in Kiryat Menahem. The physical facilities at Har Hamor cannot compare with the well-established, far more spacious Mercaz. The neighborhood synagogue converted into the yeshiva is already far too small. A new “wing” has been added: a tarp attached to the side of the small building, which serves as a makeshift dining area.

Last week a conciliatory letter, on Mercaz Harav letterhead, was posted in the dining area, wishing the students of the new yeshiva well in their studies. It also included a call to study the classic works against slander and gossip written by Rabbi Israel Meir Kagan, commonly known as the Hafetz Haim. A similar call to study these works every day after morning services appeared on a bulletin board at Mercaz, along with an explanation that it is especially important at this time to review halachot governing interpersonal relations.

Students at both yeshivot are extremely wary of talking publicly about the rift, concerned that they may harm rabbis they deeply respect or add fuel to a fire they hope will be contained. A photocopied page of a book on the writings of Rabbi Nahman of Bratzlav was posted at the entrance to Mercaz Harav’s dormitory, sandwiched between “looking for roommate” notices and advertisements for holy books. Somebody had underlined a passage that read: “It is forbidden for us to get involved in halachic disagreements between rabbis and sages as long as each side brings support from the Talmud and halachic literature [for his positions].”

According to Hebrew University Jewish philosophy professor Avi Ravitzky, the split may have a positive side effect: Choosing between the rabbis is forcing the students to grapple with the idea that there may not be one absolute truth.

”For many people, the halachic and philosophic authority was housed in one place,” says Ravitzky, author of Messianism, Zionism and Jewish Religious Radicalism. “Now this will be split between two institutions, and it will be impossible for students to identify totally with either. I see this as a positive development, because people will learn that there is no total truth, but that it is split - some here, some there. This can lead to a break of an educational philosophy leaning toward total, absolute truth.”

This breaking up of the truth will also have an effect on the National Religious Party, which - although it never set up a counterpart to Shas’s Council of Torah Sages - does have a tradition of consulting with Shapira, former chief rabbi Mordechai Eliahu and leading Mercaz rabbis before making major policy decisions.

NRP MK Nissan Slomiansky says the party will continue to consult with Shapira and Eliahu, and that the split will not have much of an impact on it. “When we look for Torah giants, we find Rabbi Shapira and Rabbi Eliahu,” Slomiansky says. “Rabbi Tau is not a halachic arbiter. He deals with the writings of [the rabbis] Kook and Jewish thought. There are many like him.”

But Elon maintains that the split will have more of an impact than Slomiansky lets on: “When there are disagreements between great rabbis, it lessens the authority of the spiritual leadership. This lessens the status of Rabbi Shapira, and politicians may use this to their advantage,” he says. “If someone does not like what Rabbi Shapira says, he can say, ‘OK, I’ll go ask Rabbi Tau.’”

Whereas Elon sees this as a negative development, since on political matters Shapira - like Elon - is an unabashed hawk, Ish-Shalom says it may induce more politically moderate voices to come to the fore in the NRP.

”I assume that the split will have a moderating influence on the national- religious public,” Ish-Shalom says, “because the NRP will no longer be standing opposite one united spiritual leadership, and that leadership will seem less threatening. MKs who may have been more open on certain matters in the past took certain [conservative] stands, believing that their voters wanted them to follow the direction of the spiritual leadership.”

But now that the spiritual leadership is going in more than one direction, says Ish-Shalom, “the politicians will have more maneuverability.”

In addition, he says, the weakening of the old leadership may lead to the sprouting of a new one, including rabbis who learned under Shapira and Tau and were unlikely to openly contradict either.

According to Ish-Shalom, a process of soul-searching has been taking place in the national-religious camp since the Rabin assassination, which has translated itself into a desire for more dialogue with the nonreligious public. He says that elements in the camp are looking for ways to moderate its message, and that the leadership crisis at Mercaz may afford them that opportunity.

”The weakening of the established leadership can speed up the process, ” Ish-Shalom says. “It can lead to an alternative leadership. As the influence of the existing leadership weakens, the influence of other voices will increase.”

Bar-Ilan University’s Don-Yehiya maintains that there has always been pluralism in the national-religious camp and that now it has simply come into the open. “This situation may even be preferable,” says Don-Yehiya. “Now that there are two yeshivot, everyone will be able to find his place.”

In addition to the political ramifications, Ish-Shalom predicts that the move may also have far-reaching educational and cultural significance. He says that the rightward trend in religious education - more Torah studies at the expense of secular studies - may now be stemmed since the leadership that has set the tone is now divided. If they were hesitant to go against directives from Mercaz, that situation is likely to change.

But don-t expect dramatic changes overnight, Ish- Shalom says. “Changes like this are gradual. Cultural processes take time.”

Even gradual changes need a catalyst, and the break at Mercaz may have provided one that could have major repercussions.

Herb Keinon, A Divided Soul. , Jerusalem Post, 12-12-1997, pp 11.