R. Shmuel Mohiliver and R. Yitzhak Yaakov Reines: Two Types of Religious Zionism

Abstract

A typology presents ideal concrete types, and probing their personality and character enables the creation of general patterns. The study of the personality thus grants access to the depth of an idea not only in abstract terms but also in its function as a guide to, and a source of, an ethos. Furthermore, the personality construct plays a significant role in the understanding of historical processes because many events are ascribed or tied to the centrality of a specific individual. The study of typology is especially linked to Eduard Spranger (1882–1963), who claimed that ideal types convey conscious structures. In his view, we can impart significance to actions and behaviors only in relation to the agent’s set of values. In his writings, Spranger presented six ideal types. What is the meaning of a typology when discussing a movement such as religious Zionism? In this article, I attempt to trace an ideological portrait of two types that, in my estimate, created through their personality and their endeavor the ideological pattern that has accompanied religious Zionism and the religious-Zionist idea throughout this movement’s existence. I set up these two thinkers and entrepreneurs as pure types, even though no such types exist in reality. I present the pure types as founded on dominant features although, again, well aware that there are no pure features in the concrete world. Besides describing the characteristic features of the two types, I will argue that the interaction between the patterns they established facilitates understanding of several historical events. These patterns at times continue one another but, mainly, they confront one another. To illustrate their course, I will relate to two historical episodes where these personality patterns come forth, one that took place a few years after R. Reines’ death and the other about fifty years later or more, whose implications are felt up to this day.

1. Introduction

R. Shmuel Mohiliver (1824–1898) was an important leader of the Hovevei Zion (Lovers of Zion) movement. He died about five years after he created the “Mizrachi” (an acronym for Merkaz Ruhani—spiritual center and also hinting to the Land of Israel, considered as being in the east, mizrach) and about four years before R. Yitzhak Yaakov Reines (1839–1915) founded the “Mizrachi” as a faction in the World Zionist Organization in 1902. Judging the endeavor of these two men in a historical perspective, particularly against the background of Eastern European Jewish society, will reveal a revolutionary and constitutive element. I will argue that R. Mohiliver and R. Reines denote two primary personality patterns in the life of national religiosity, and my concern will be the background of these patterns’ emergence.

1.1. The Similarities

These two public figures, who stood at a historical crossroad in the emergence of Jewish religious nationalism, have much in common. Consider the following aspects:

(1) Background. Both R. Mohiliver and R. Reines served as city rabbis in Eastern Europe. Their activity ensued their social and spiritual leadership experience.

(2) Achievements. Both founded movements and organizations associated with the awakening of Jewish nationalism (“Mizrachi”).

(3) Outlook: Both sensed a need for some human activity beside Divine Providence to redeem the Jewish people from exile.

Eliezer Schweid referred to the human activity emphasized in item (3) as the “secular element”. Writing about Mohiliver and his colleagues, Schweid notes:

The statements of R. Eliashberg and R. Mohiliver suggest acquiescence with existing secular elements as well as limited affirmation of a secular principle compatible with belief in the Torah and its commandments. What is that principle? How was it formulated and exposed in reality? The answer is in the issue at the center of the most acute controversy between supporters and opponents of Hibbat Zion in the religious Haredi camp. And in abstract terms—is the Jewish people allowed to adopt an independent initiative at a broad national level to change its condition among the nations of the world? That is actually the innovation that Zionism brought with it and, on its basis, Zionism is to be defined as a modern movement.

(Schweid 1986, p. 696)

The extent to which the principle of human initiative is “secular” is perhaps debatable. In any event, Mohiliver and Reines did not internalize this notion in identical terms. Mohiliver directed it to action rather than to the definition of identity, whereas Reines viewed it as a component of identity, as shown below.

In this article, I will attempt to delve into the distinction between personality patterns and the activity of R. Mohiliver and R. Reines (Salmon 2018, pp. 9–32). I will relate to them as representing two ideal and “pure” types, who convey religious participation in the endeavor to revive Jewish nationalism. I am aware that, in reality, the pure type is versatile. Yet, I will argue that the development of the revival movement occurred through the confrontation and integration of the two pure types.

R. Mohiliver is the archetype of the religious supporter within the Hibbat Zion movement, which was responsible for establishing cells to promote settlement in the Land of Israel and their administration, while R. Reines is the archetype of the Mizrachi member who devoted all his time and efforts to promote religious Zionism as a branch of the Zionist movement. I claim below that Mohiliver is the archetype of Hapo^cel Hamizrachi activists and, therefore, the real confrontation between the two models represented by R. Mohiliver and R. Reines erupted with the foundation of Hapo^cel Hamizrachi in 1922. I will also argue that the next landmark in this confrontation is to be found fifty years later. At this later time, R. Mohiliver is the archetype of the active model of settlement founded by Gush Emunim, whereas R. Reines is reflected in the behavior of the official party that was then representing religious Zionism, the National Religious Party (NRP).

1.2. The Differences

I have already presented elsewhere the approach that religious Zionism as a unique and revolutionary stance begins with R. Reines’ foundation of the Mizrachi, not with R. Mohiliver’s creation of the “Mizrahi” or with the activity of Hovevei Zion. The reason is that the true revolutionary event is the official declarative recognition of a secular Jewish organization through the payment of membership dues (Schwartz 2004, pp. 24–134). Such a move, no matter the apologetic explanations that accompany it, represents a change vis-à-vis the preceding centuries. By contrast, Hibbat Zion did not require official membership and identity and, therefore, can be viewed as anticipating two trends:

(1) Anticipating the religious Zionism founded by R. Reines in its negation of exile.

(2) Anticipating support for the Zionist religious endeavor without officially acknowledging it, as evident in the personality and the circle surrounding R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook (1865–1935).

Some scholars, particularly those who focus on the study of Hibbat Zion, do not accept this approach and, in the spirit of religious-Zionist self-promotion, they wish to date its emergence before 1902. Religious-Zionist thought sought to substantiate its continuity, especially within the non-Zionist religious public and, therefore, claimed to be a follow-up of Abraham’s aliyah, Nahmanides’ aliyah, the aliyah of the Gaon of Vilna’s disciples, and so forth. Scholars, for their own reasons, adopted this fundamental view on continuity.

This dispute, however, should not hinder the typological division I present here. I will argue that R. Mohiliver denotes a defined type with distinct features, whereas R. Reines points to an entirely different one, as follows:

(1) Performative v. political: Mohiliver represented the type who finds self-expression in action and significant behavior, whereas R. Reines represented the political type, whose power lies in rhetoric and in the means of communication.

(2) Focus v. generalized vision: Mohiliver represented the goal-oriented type, who holds that expanding and generalizing could be disruptive, while Reines represented the type aware of the national idea as wide-ranging.

(3) Identity: Mohiliver represented the type lacking a well-defined identity except for the goal v. Reines, who represents a distinct establishment identity.

The differences between them are, in my view, among the central reasons for R. Reines’ lack of support for the endeavor of R. Mohiliver, who had desperately needed it.

In the process that unfolded, both versions develop in the course of the historical events into similar models adapted to the times. When these models are eroded by the establishment and lose their vitality, new similar ones appear, and so time and again. My claim relates to the following variations:

(1) R. Mohiliver and R. Reines as historical figures and personality models.

(2) Hapo^cel Hamizrachi (Mohiliver’s model) and the Mizrachi (Reines’ model)

(3) Gush Emunim (Mohiliver’s model) and the NRP or Mafdal (Reines’ model).

These, as noted, are general and ideal models. Obviously, currents and sub-currents make the actual political reality more layered and complex. Moreover, and as shown below, these three variations, though separated by decades, are not random but tied together by concrete historical lines.

2. The Development of the Patterns

The beginning of the typological patterns in national religiosity is rooted, as pointed out above, in the concrete figures of R. Mohiliver and R. Reines. Both of them have been studied broadly and in depth, and I do not mean to engage again in a description of their work and their historical and political contribution. I will now dwell at length on the differences between their personalities as archetypes of the religious national reaction to the events at the end of the nineteenth century and beginning of the twentieth.

2.1. The Purpose

The distinction between R. Mohiliver and R. Reines has its roots, above all, in the purpose of their endeavor. R. Mohiliver worked to realize one focused and defined goal: settling the Land of Israel. He did pin hopes on this settlement—such as bringing people together as well as spiritual and religious exaltation—but these were not the declared goals. He was also involved in political moves, but these were not central to his enterprise.1 By contrast, R. Reines set himself as a goal an ideological, religious, and cultural renewal. His purpose, then, spreads out in several directions, of which settling the land is only one. For R. Mohiliver, the struggle against exilic traits is solved simply by leaving exile behind and going to the Land of Israel, whereas for R. Reines, the struggle is against the exilic type. Giving rise to a new non-exilic type requires an all-inclusive adjustment, including a redefinition of the foundations of Jewish faith in the generation of renewal (Schwartz 2002). R. Reines also created a new style meant to grapple with the new reality. A glance at a book that was published after his death, Sefer ha-Arakhim (“The Book of Values”, of which only the first volume appeared), shows the new terminology he created, which is paradoxically laced with terms from medieval literature. Going to the Land of Israel will not suffice to create a new type. In sum, R. Mohiliver struggled against the exile while R. Reines struggled against the exilic mentality.

It merits note that, to divert the balance to the human activity that is somehow connected to the redemption of the people, an orientation of renewal is needed. During his term in the rabbinate, R. Mohiliver spoke and wrote about the need to integrate secular with religious studies, as Rav Kook would later speak about the inclusion of philosophy, aesthetics, and physicality in the figure of the new man. It is impossible to engage in a serious struggle against exile without understanding that a new era and a redeemed human are in the offing. But R. Reines did not confine himself to words and was an entrepreneur before turning into a politician. The yeshiva he established in Lida implemented the new orientation. He understood that, without facts, the redemptive interpretation of current events would remain an unrealized dream. R. Reines re-examined the foundations of Jewish faith to locate nationalism within them. In other words, he claimed that nationalism compels a renewal and examination of Jewish faith holding that, henceforth, the concern should not be with the divinity as such and with issues such as creation and beginnings but with Divine Providence and its ways in history. R. Reines’ activity in Russia had a parallel in the Land of Israel in the activity of R. Haim Hirschensohn (1857–1935). Both began with education and moved to politics. Neither one was tremendously successful in his educational activity, but it is clear why both of them established the Mizrachi and understood that religious Zionism is a faction that must join a broad Zionist body to attend to the interests of observant Jews.

2.2. The Endeavor

R. Mohiliver founded the Mizrachi (Shayovitz 1989, pp. 155–68). This body was indeed called “spiritual center”, but its goal was organizational. It was meant to restore the Hibbat Zion movement from the crisis of apathetic supporters and from the ban on land purchases imposed by the Ottoman rulers. Even if, for the moment, we disregard the specific considerations of strengthening the Bnei Moshe movement founded by Ahad-Haam and the Odessa Committee and their opposition to the Byalistok Center, this was still an organizational body that would concentrate the settlement activity without actually setting spiritual goals. Officially, the center was responsible for national propaganda, but its main activity was settlement in the Land of Israel.

The Mizrachi founded by R. Mohiliver was not confined to observant Jews. Quite the contrary. The center intended to continue the joint activities of secular and religious Jews started by Hibbat Zion or, more precisely, to restore them after the big crises, among them also a crisis of distrust between the movement’s blocs (Luz 1988). At first, R. Reines did open up the Mizrachi’s ranks to all those opposed to cultural activity in the Zionist movement, but it soon transpired that the newly established faction was meant only for observant members.

R. Reines’ aim in establishing the Mizrachi was distinctly political. The organization he founded had no performative goal like that of the “spiritual center” and, instead, was meant to play in the political turf of the WZO and even influence it. From the outset, the Mizrachi was not established to promote a goal but to curb the WZO’s inclination to engage in educational activities planned to be secular. In other words, R. Reines established the Mizrachi for political reasons and the ethos of the faction’s leadership was political, too, which is also the reason for its far-reaching support for the Uganda proposal.

As a political leader, R. Reines resorted to political ploys. He did not hesitate to say one thing and its opposite if it fitted his purpose. In Or Hadash ^cal Zion (A new light on Zion), the apologetic treatise intended to bring the Haredi masses into the Zionist movement, R. Reines argued that Zionism merely aims to solve the problem of the Jews and has no links to redemption. Zionism is solely about a “safe haven”. In other writings, however, he claimed that Zionism is linked to redemption and even wrote several books in this style. Mohiliver did try to legitimize the goals of settlement at the propaganda level but did not endorse such statements too often.

2.3. Praxis v. Politics

R. Mohiliver represented the figure whose consciousness focuses on praxis and its meanings, whereas R. Reines represented the political figure. For Mohiliver, what is significant is the concrete achievement. Action creates a worldview. The approach of Peter Winch (1926–1997), who argues that action is what confers meaning on principles, commands, definitions, and formulations, merits mention in this context (Winch 1990, p. 57). Max Weber (1864–1920) had already dealt with meaningful behavior, but Winch argued that meaningful action is bound by rules and, therefore, any meaningful behavior is social because rules presume a social framework (ibid., p. 116). Meaningful and intentional action conveys rational principles and concepts but not only rational ones. Often, a person’s deed is not fully understandable in logical rational terms. Be that as it may, action conveys the relevance of the past to the present, at least when truly significant actions are at stake. A theology founded on the meaning of the deed appears in Jewish thought in, for example, the teachings of R. Judah Loew, known as the Maharal of Prague.

R. Mohiliver, as noted, saw full significance mainly in action. He held that significant action will have a strong social impact and will draw secular and religious Jews closer, unbound by labels, while also preventing struggles and identity crises. Other rabbis in Hibbat Zion, such as R. Naphtali Zvi Yehuda Berlin (Netziv), largely agreed with this view (Schwartz 2017, pp. 7–40). Pertinent in this regard is the story about Mohiliver’s meeting with Baron Edmond de Rothschild. Mohiliver reports that he asked the Baron why Moses, who was slow of speech and tongue, was chosen to lead the people of Israel:

Moses was chosen to be not only a leader in Israel but also the giver of the Torah. He was chosen by God not only to take the children of Israel out of Egypt but also to lead them to Sinai and give them the Torah. Had Moses been eloquent, had he known how to influence people with the power of his words and his speech, heretics would have told Israel that the Torah is not from heaven and that Moses, through the magic of his tongue, had swayed them when leaving Egypt and, affected by the moment, they accepted his words. But since he was slow of speech and tongue and the children of Israel did nevertheless accept the Torah from him, that is proof and evidence that the Shekhinah spoke through Moses, who was merely an emissary to deliver the Torah to Israel.

(Yavneli 1944, p. 34)

Mohiliver’s rhetoric was meant to mark him as a man of action, judged by his achievements, not by his discourse. Emerging between the lines is an approach claiming that the aim of imparting the Torah to the people will be attained in the wake of deeds and not through the art of dialogue.

By contrast, R. Reines saw writing, propaganda, and political involvement as the secret of performance, favoring lobbying and political organization over action. He held that an association of religious Jews helping Herzl to realize his diplomatic and political initiatives would bring secular Zionists to recognize the power and singularity of religion.

R. Reines deeply believed that words and rhetoric could influence the nations capable of granting the charter for settling Jews and affect the non-Zionist Haredim whom he expected to join the Zionist movement as well as its secular members. His book Or Hadash ^cal Zion, for example, is a kind of scholarly and homiletic propaganda platform in support of the Mizrachi meant for a Haredi readership. He genuinely believed that the book could change views and influence a broad public. The power of a sharp argument is in its clarity. Whereas R. Mohiliver was convinced that power lies in ambiguity, that is, in preferring action and keeping away from issues of identity, R. Reines was convinced that power lies in versatile formulations, distinctiveness, and uniqueness. He held that the various esoteric and exoteric meanings create reality and the discourse of identity is the key to action.

2.4. Polemic

R. Mohiliver was committed to the expansion of settlement in the Land of Israel and was devoted to these activities the last three decades of his life. His defense of the settlers derived from this view, meaning that he developed a polemical discourse to protect the aim he had set himself. After a trip to the Land of Israel in 1890, he wrote a well-known piece:

I have greatly wondered about several of our most distinguished Torah scholars and Hasidic leaders who have opposed the principle of settling the Holy Land through the purchase of fields and vineyards and the settling of Jewish farmers in them, claiming that the farmers, and especially the young ones, do not observe the Torah. But even if this were true, we have already written that the Holy One, blessed be He, prefers his children to settle his land even if they fail to observe the Torah as they should, to their living abroad and observing it properly. Particularly, when even the greatest enemy of the Yishuv will not say, God forbid, that they became worse in the Holy Land than they had been abroad. Indeed, everyone admits that even the worst of those who went there repented and improved their ways and, if so, even if the slander that they are still sinners and have not entirely abandoned their bad ways were true, they have nevertheless done better in two ways: (1) They have fulfilled the important commandment of settling the Land of Israel, and (2) They have also greatly improved their observance of the Torah and the commandments. After God granted me the favor and I myself went to the Holy Land and visited most of the colonies,2 almost all of them, I can definitely say that all that was said about their licentious deeds are lies and defamations. Some of them are true tsaddikim [righteous] because they were granted the favor of settling the Holy Land and observing the commandments that depend on the Land of Israel (ha-teluyot ba-Aretz), enjoying the fruit of their labor without fraud or manipulation while also reverently observing the Torah and the commandments and giving as much charity as they could afford. Some are beinonim [intermediate] in their observance of the Torah and the commandments, like the beinonim among us, but at least they have the following three qualities: they dwell in the Holy Land, they settle the land, and they observe the commandments that depend on the Land of Israel. And if there are perhaps also some geru^cim [worst] among them, that is so in every city since nature compels that some geru^cim will also be found among them, but there they are only a few, and you will not find among them, as you find among us, anyone that will desecrate the Sabbath or commit another transgression in public.

His outlook on action drove R. Mohiliver to apply the concept of the tsaddik to honest people who live simply from the fruit of their labor and whose religious practice reveals a basic level of observance. They are the “true” tsaddikim. R. Mohiliver indirectly criticized the Hasidic courts who adamantly opposed aliyah, as evident in his opening statement, “our most distinguished Torah scholars and Hasidic leaders.” R. Mohiliver shifted the concept of the tsaddik from the leader of a Hasidic community and a Hasidic court to the members of the moshavot, who translate this notion into praxis rather than into scholarly, kabbalistic, or magic expertise. The notion of beinonim, described by the author of the Tanya, R. Schneur Zalman of Liadi (1745–1813), as individuals of high spiritual level, he now applies to moshavot farmers.

Mohiliver’s words did not reflect the reality of these settlers’ lives and, quite plausibly, he was well aware of this (Salmon 2014, pp. 161–91). Deep-rooted socialism did not enable the simple piousness that Mohiliver was after, but he presented an apologetic image intended to promote Jewish settlement in the Land of Israel.

Once again, we confront the distinction between Mohiliver’s and Reines’ models. R. Reines was a politician. He fostered the hope of carrying the Haredi camp with him and, on those grounds, developed a discourse aimed at defending the Zionist idea. In Or Hadash ^xal Zion, he clarified at length that Zionism does not seek to hasten the end and that cooperation with secularists has no essential implications beyond striving for a mutually beneficial end. Although he did acknowledge Zionism as a secular organization and joined it, this union was meant solely for a limited purpose. Reines did not criticize the Hasidic courts because he held that he would be able to recruit them into the faction he had founded.

Three decades later, after the hope of enlisting the support of the Hasidic courts for the Zionist ideal had been defeated, religious Zionists would bluntly criticize Hasidism—for example, R. Yehuda Leib Zlotnick-Avida (1887–1962) at the Mizrachi conference in Poland (Schwartz 1999, pp. 24–25). Hapo^cel Hamizrachi members endorsed this critical style, even though some of them clung to their Hasidic sources. Moshe Krone (1913–1993), from Hapo^cel Hamizrachi, wrote about the limited activity in favor of Zionism among Hasidim and mentioned, in particular, the followers of R. Yeshayahu Shapira (1891–1945), known as Ha-Admor Ha-Halutz:

Except that all these were but a minority among hundreds of thousands of Hasidim. All those who watched and saw how the bold ones who had dared were weakened by the troubles and exertions they experienced in the Land of Israel, remained in their place, and continued their routine. Hasidic rabbis strengthened their followers’ faith and their way of life, furthered love for the people of Israel and the study of Torah, and most of them helped in the various activities of Agudat Yisrael. Generally, Hasidic circles “tolerated” the Mizrachi, but Mizrachi rabbis and activists were often persecuted, its members were thrown out of the Hasidic shtibel and were unwelcome in Hasidic courts.

(Krone 1987, p. 37)

One group in Hapo^cel Hamizrachi, as noted, had been members of Hasidic sects and are discussed below. Their Hasidic approach, however, came forth in their style and the immanent outlook typical of Hasidism. They claimed that a person committed to manual labor wrests from it hidden forces, analogous to the sparks in Kabbalah and Hasidism. This Hasidic trend, however, which included thinkers such as Shmuel Hayyim Landau (ShAHaL, 1892–1928), Ha-Admor He-Halutz, Shlomo Zalman Shragai (1899–1995), Yeshayahu Bernstein (1902–1987), and others, knew it had no place in the Hasidic courts. Hasidic influence on them was only conceptual and stylistic, and they had adopted the meaningful action model, as shown below.

3. Between the Mizrachi and Hapo^cel Hamizrachi

The second stage of the two patterns represented by R. Mohiliver and R. Reines is the creation of Hapo^cel Hamizrachi. We are no longer dealing with specific types but with personality shifts toward an ideological course that includes many others. I will argue that R. Reines’ model created the Mizrachi and R. Mohiliver’s model ultimately created Hapo^cel Hamizrachi. Reines was the founder and the precursor of religious Zionism. Mohiliver created the model of meaningful action and behavior, thereby laying the foundation for the emergence of Hapo^cel Hamizrachi.

3.1. The First Twenty Years

The Mizrachi was consistently a political movement. The faction viewed itself as a pressure group meant to promote the interests of the religious public and acted always within the context of the WZO. It endorsed flexibility in support of WZO policies, as prominently evident in its position with regard to the Uganda proposal. As a politician, R. Reines supported Herzl and his views and did not confront him even when the Land of Israel was replaced by Uganda. The political image of the Mizrachi was also the one endorsed by the national religious public. The Mizrachi was a faction that dealt with issues of policy and education but showed no care for people of action. To members interested in creating facts on the ground through their action and their manual labor, it appeared that Mizrachi politicians entirely ignored them and that the standing of religious workers was an issue of no concern to them. This was the background to the emergence of Hapo^cel Hamizrachi. Incidentally, like Hibbat Zion, the idea of Torah va-^cAvodah also emerged through associations and spontaneous cells such as “Tevunah”, “Tse^cirei Mizrahi”, and “Zikhron Yaakov (Aminoah 1931)”. By the early 1910s, then, the model of the person of action had already appeared.

Until the appearance of Hapo^cel Hamizrachi (1922), a certain reflection of the Mohiliver model had emerged in two modes: (1) local associations of religious workers, as in Jerusalem even before the First World War (ibid., pp. 2–3), and (2) the work of R. Abraham Hacohen Kook. Hibbat Zion had not required identification and, unlike Zionism, had not set up a broad secular organization. Nor did Rav Kook ever officially identify with the Mizrachi or with Hapo^cel Hamizrachi. When Hapo^cel Hamizrachi was established, however, many characteristics of the Hibbat Zion activist were poured into its founders and leaders (Aminoah 1931; Fishman 1979; Alfasi 1985, 1992; Salmon 1990, pp. 340–52).

This faction had already been active in the Land of Israel in local political establishments and in the Zionist movement and had gone beyond the stage of spontaneous cells. Hapo^cel Hamizrachi, however, adopted Winch’s approach to meaningful action. For the religious labor movement, deeds redeem the spirit, be it the spirit of the nation or that of the hidden divinity that had disappeared in exile. A constitutive treatise for Hapo`el Hamizrachi is the anthology Yalkut, published in 1931. Yitzhak Gur Arieh (1902–1979) wrote:

The social dimension we endorse is irrefutable and is itself a noble aim. This social dimension, which we draw from our Torah, is unconditionally compelling. We would affirm it even if there were no pressure or suffering in the world and all were “firm and established”.3

For us, it is compelling as an end in itself. The social dimension, in our view, must redeem the Jewish spirit.

The redemption of the spirit is for us the highest rank of human purification and hence preferable to the redemption of the land, which is supplementary. Without the redemption of the spirit, we lack all of them, even if other redemptions—the redemption of the land and the redemption of society—were to occur. When we seek to redeem the land, we also seek the redemption of the spirit, which is above all and before all. Concerning the redemption of the land without the redemption of the spirit, it would be better for it not to be than to be. “And let not Europe be like Jerusalem”4—as in the witty saying of the holy eminent R. Kalisher, of blessed memory. Our entire endeavor is hidden here.

Because we assume that the redemption of the spirit is supreme and because we affirm the social dimension because we hold it will be one of the redeeming features of the Jewish spirit, we also add the following: This social dimension, whose holy role is to redeem the Jewish spirit, must flow from one source of the Torah, from the innermost source of Judaism, from the innermost source of each individual. It must flow from the spot singled out for religious feeling. This spot is holy to us and, from it, we draw all the sources of our vitality, which rests on and follows the Jewish spirit. A social dimension borrowed from others will not redeem our spirit. The supreme aim is absent here. The Jewish spirit is missing here.

(Aminoah and Bernstein 1931)

For Hapo^cel Hamizrachi, then, the spirit is redeemed through socialist ideals. Values such as work, equality, and social justice are the true redemption of the Land of Israel. The Land of Israel is built through manual labor, but the deed is a faithful reflection of the spirit’s power.

One text that deeply influenced the members of Hapo^cel Hamizrachi and eventually also the members of Bnei Akiva was ShAHaL’s article in this anthology, “On Our Method”. This insightful piece, clear and succinct but also poetic and hinting at spiritual Hasidic approaches, explicitly states, “Work—it is here that the destruction of the people begins its rebuilding (Ibid., p. 6)”. And more: “Work is thus the beginning and the foundation of the renewal (Ibid., p. 7)”.

Another article in the anthology that had a similar effect was that of Ha-Admor He-Halutz, “And You Shall Do What Is Right and Good”. R. Shapira writes:

Work and manual labor are among the goals of Judaism. Besides the value of work for the amendment and improvement of the world, Judaism finds only in work a possibility of living a full just life and about that, about the goal of Judaism, we can learn not only from Halakhah but also from Aggadah and from our entire ancient literature.

(Ibid., pp. 38–39)

Shlomo Zalman Shragai added that work is “a life of honesty and goodness, beauty and perfection,” so that this form is not just opposed to but is also a protest against workers’ exploitation (ibid., p. 36). Nehemiah Aminoah (1896–1966) argued that work is the “problem of life” and “a basis for the renewal of the nation’s life, for the liberation of society, and for personal freedom (Aminoah 1931)”.

Hapo^cel Hamizrachi also pondered its closeness to the Mizrachi and to the “Histadrut” (the General Federation of Labor in the Land of Israel). In its own consciousness, Hapo^cel Hamizrachi thought of itself as the body responsible for meaningful action and behavior, meaning settlement and the value of work. It did try, however, to distance itself from socialist ideology to avoid being tainted by the socialist opposition to religion. The Hasidic groups within Hapo^cel Hamizrachi, led by thinkers such as ShAHaL, Ha-Admor He-Halutz, Shragai, and Bernstein, set up a countervailing power to socialist ideology but also sought to return to the value of work as such. Mohiliver’s model of action and of the value of settlement assumed a socialist religious garb.

3.2. The Messianic Discourse

Both R. Reines and R. Mohiliver contended with the same dilemma—how does the national renaissance fit the redemption idea? Precisely here, however, lies the difference between them. As someone in whose type the main component was action, R. Mohiliver was more concerned with the negation of exile than with redemption per se. In the statements of such a type, we will hardly find deep discussions and theological sophistry when dealing with messianic interpretations of contemporary events. By contrast, R. Reines presented a series of discussions on the link between Zionism and redemption. Mohiliver’s type did not seek hidden layers in the call for realization because the political discourse was itself foreign to him. In fundraising calls to donors and to the general public, he did not resort to political rhetoric and held that traditional homiletics would suffice. The politician’s type represented by Reines drew distinctions between different publics and successfully hid his full intentions when addressing a non-Zionist Orthodox audience. Reines could also assume a modern style, adapted to the discourse of the Zionist movement.

The implications of the messianic approach emerge against this background. Mohiliver’s type did not speak of redemption but behaved accordingly, in line with the Winch theory described above. He did not need to trace an explicit link between the redemption of the land and biblical redemption. And indeed, this is the approach we find in the Hapo`el Hamizrachi type, as illustrated by Moshe Krone’s statement below:

In recent years, several researchers of religious-Zionism have begun to deepen their study of this movement’s conceptual roots, and particularly its religious roots. Attention focuses on the following question: did religious-Zionist thinkers take as their starting assumption that political Zionism is mainly concerned with the physical rescue of the Jewish collective, or with the fulfillment of redemptive longings? … It should be noted that, throughout our active engagement in the religious-Zionist movement for over half a century, this question never arose either in theory or in practice. It never bothered us and we would not have discussed it. The border between the concepts of “rescue” and “redemption” was entirely blurred, and these were as “two that come as one”,5 and as two sides of a coin. Homilists, preachers, speakers, and plain debaters and sermonizers to whom we often used to listen—all would mix these concepts and deal with them together.

(Krone 1987, pp. 11–12)

Krone presented the view that action on behalf of a “safe haven”, especially one meant to save Jews from European antisemitism, cannot be separated from the messianic connotation rather than vice versa. This model fits Mohiliver’s endeavor. Hapo^cel Hamizrachi members spoke about the redemption of the individual, the redemption of nature and of the land, and the redemption of society.

While some Mizrachi members carefully attempted to locate this period within the messianic saga (“the initial sprouting of our redemption”), and some grappled with apocalyptic and naturalistic views of redemption, Hapo^cel Hamizrachi members lived and acted the redemption. Their behavior expressed the new era.

Note that the difference between these two models does not lie in the messianic interpretation of contemporary events but in the balance between action and discourse. Whereas one model operates within the messianic meaning, the other plans its political and conceptual moves, including the rhetoric and the discourse, according to a messianic interpretation of current events.

4. Action and Politics in “Gush Emunim”

The next stage touches on the stormy events that began at a slow pace after the Six-Day War and then erupted in a powerful outburst that began in the mid-1970s and lasted for about a decade. The settlement project in the Golan, Judea, Samaria, and the Gaza Strip is tied to Gush Emunim. I will argue that Gush Emunim created a model of meaningful action as founded by R. Mohiliver. Facts and concrete achievements determine identity more than the personality behind them. Facing the actions of Gush Emunim were the political activists of religious Zionism representing R. Reines’ model, and I outline below the confrontation between these two patterns.

4.1. The Settler

The Gush Emunim type or the settler type is a variation of the model set up by R. Mohiliver. The settler does not identify with the perspective of the political establishment and focuses entirely on action. This type, a product of religious-Zionist educational institutions, has a charisma that R. Mohiliver apparently lacked and is convinced that these deeds entail a direct or indirect divine meaning. Contrary to R. Mohiliver, however, settlers do engage in a dialogue with legislators and can be found in the halls of power of Israel’s parliament. They, however, trust only facts and suspect politicians. They hold that only deeds, meaning settlement of the territories acquired in the Six-Day War, are truly meaningful. Again, some Gush Emunim members, contrary to Mohiliver, carry heavy messianic baggage and endorse strong messianic interpretations. Instances of such a type are Benny Katsover, Menachem Felix, and Hanan Porat (1943–2011, though he later became a distinctly political type). They are far, however, from a convoluted political discourse and are entirely focused on the supreme goal. After he was persuaded to lead the struggle for the land, R. Zvi Yehuda Kook (1891–1992) excelled at representing the rhetoric of action: direct, sharp, fiery, defiant, and demanding facts on the ground. Incidentally, R. Zvi Yehuda indeed held that the politicians’ character can be changed by replacing them with Torah scholars. Until today, the “Degel Yerushalayim” idea of R. Abraham Kook that was developed in the 1910s is used as a codename among his disciples and their followers for the ideology of Torah scholars serving as politicians. R. Moshe Zvi Neriah and R. Haim Druckman served as landmarks in the path of this ideology. Reality, however, prescribed entirely different politicians, who did not adopt R. Zvi Yehuda’s style and were perceived as weaklings and self-interested. To reiterate: settlers do not believe in politicians, who appear to them as fixated on words and delaying action. They suspect not only secular politicians—first the Labor party representatives and later Menachem Begin, who soon discovered that the government’s perspective on reality is essentially different from that visible from the opposition benches. Settlers suspect national religious politicians as well, viewing them as engaged in juggling words and avoiding practical decisions.

Gush Emunim members did not trust NRP representatives. Gershon Shafat, a member of the Gush, described in his memoirs a crucial meeting in early 1974 that was also attended by two members of the NRP’s “Young Guard” (mishmeret tse^cirah), Zevulun Hammer (1936–1998) and Yehuda Ben-Meir “who were trying to lead an activist vanguard within the NRP, whose leaders had shown absolutely no interest in the struggle for Greater Israel (Shafat 1995, p. 14; Inbari 2019, pp. 135–54)”. Hagai Huberman noted that already during the Six-Day War,

[Michael] Hazani had been almost the only one in the NRP leadership who vigorously and tirelessly acted to realize the idea [of returning to Kfar Etzyon] when we were still fighting in the Six-Day War. The indifference, however strange it may sound, was not only prevalent in the NRP but also in the Religious Kibbutz Federation and in Bnei Akiva.

(Huberman 2008, p. 27)

Zevulun Hammer attested himself to the attitude toward veteran politicians:

Gush Emunim—means graduates of the NRP and its school. But what happened? They became opponents of the NRP—in its decay or its corruption, first politically and also normatively. The NRP as well appeared to me as a party unable to sense what is important today, and lacking the power to lead the people to what is important. The entire NRP declares that it does not care only for its sectorial interests. Rather, it maintains that “Israel are sureties for one another” and hopes to influence the character of the state as a whole. So the declaration. In fact, over the last ten-fifteen years [1960–1975] the NRP has turned inward, like the other sects, and has built its own world. Although perhaps an inevitable imperative, this is what gave rise to this young generation.

(Raanan 1980, p. 190)6

Hammer defined the party’s withdrawal as its focus on religious services and on the status of the rabbinate. He tied the revolution of the NRP’s Young Guard, quite justifiably, to Gush Emunim. One consciousness struggled against the other. Hammer held that he represented a different kind of politician who, as it were, creates a new and seemingly impossible hybrid combining a man of action and a politician. Outwardly, he engages in meaningful action, and inwardly he is a politician (Kampinski 2021).7

Hammer and the Young Guard believed that they were different, but they did not appear so to Gush Emunim activists. Shafat wrote about the attitude toward politicians in the late 1970s:

The NRP’s support was always non-committal. Yehuda Ben-Meir and Zevulun Hammer did indeed support us and pressured the government to approve our settling on the land, but they also tried to temper our stance and persuade us not to push too hard, not to resist soldiers, and remember that we are part of our country, our government, and our army. They never stopped warning us not to go too far.

(Shafat 1995; Schwartz 2018, pp. 73–74)

People of action related to politicians as decadent, captives of the political discourse and of day-to-day pursuits, and, therefore, also fearful of creating facts. The texts show that, just as Hapo^cel Hamizrachi members suspected that the Mizrachi had been tainted by remnants of their exile lobbying activities, Gush Emunim members suspected that NRP representatives were afraid to act.

4.2. The Parliamentarian

Confronting the settler model is the type who, in a way, is a variant of R. Reines. This is the NRP politician, purported to create the parliamentary layer that will supply the legal and official basis to the settlement activity. Usually, these individuals do not come from a distinctly rabbinic background. Politicians are above all cautious. They display verbal support for the settlers, release suitable declarations, but are aware that the legal basis is not simple and the surrounding considerations are problematic. The significant fact is that these characteristics relate not only to the veteran generation, which includes figures such as Yosef Burg and Yitzhak Raphael, but even to the younger members led by Hammer and Ben-Meir, who underwent a moderating process. Hammer, for example, was influenced by R. David Hartman (1931–2013), who supported a sober political approach. Yehuda Azrieli commented:

A new spirit has blossomed in Zevulun Hammer’s beautiful speeches, opening up for him new and appealing options among the broader public and particularly among intellectuals and media people. A kind of modern Torah im Derech Eretz placing humans at the center of creation and not necessarily the Land of Israel, which did not precede the Torah and humankind. The minister’s secret advisor has become a hindrance to him among his comrades and a source of ideological perplexity, beside malicious rumblings about the minister having been caught in the web of the man of the world, the professor who enjoys substantial and conceptual “cover” for his views as a disciple of Rav Soloveitchik.

(Azrieli 1990, p. 146)

The politician indeed stands before a complex mosaic and tries to do his duty by the electors and the various publics he represents. People for whom action is significant hardly change their views diametrically. Adopting more temperate views at most reflects the fact that action proved less successful than expected. For Mohiliver, this was the plunge in the donations to the settling of the land in the 1890s, and for the settlers, it was developments such as the Jewish underground and the intifada, which changed public opinion and Israeli society’s tolerance toward the settlement enterprise. Politicians, by contrast, do change their views, are attentive to moods, and their public image is a fundamental consideration. Just as R. Reines had strongly opposed cultural involvement at the beginning and then supported a religious educational stream in the context of the WZO, so politicians who had enthusiastically supported the settlement enterprise in the mid-1970s disavowed it a decade later.

To reiterate: Gush Emunim was made up of different groups. Tracing one clear-cut profile from all its various components (religious settlers, students of Merkaz Harav and its extensions, former underground members, and so forth) is not easy. The model of meaningful action, however, creates a shared underpinning between Hapo^cel Hamizrachi and Gush Emunim. Note that, historically as well, links tie these two bodies together: Hapo^cel Hamizrachi played an important role in organizing the settlement endeavor and, for example, chaperoned the founding of Moshav Keshet in the Golan Heights until it became established (Shemer-Schirman 2011, p. 226). Generally, Hapo^cel Hamizrachi was “among the leaders of settlement beyond the Green Line (Ibid., p. 224)”. Just like R. Reines, who was an astonishingly revolutionary personality, is considered a “grey” and non-charismatic figure, NRP politicians were also perceived as lacking charisma, drawing strength from their adulation of the government in power and from their avoidance of fateful decisions. Just as R. Reines’ revolutionary character at times came forth in the fact that he was attentive to the public moods and did not oppose the changes in Eastern European society, so the elected representatives of religious Zionism did not oppose the settlement enterprise and, at times, even created an impression of support. The response, however, was already suspicious. The poor image of politicians at a time that some of them—such as Begin and Dayan—were still objects of admiration had already begun to leave a mark.

5. Summary

One of religious Zionism’s great thinkers was R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik. Even if, according to some scholars, he cannot be called a “religious-Zionist thinker,” his support for the religious-Zionist idea is undeniable. R. Soloveitchik chose to convey constitutive ideas in his teachings through ideal types (halakhic man, man of faith, homo religiosus, praying man, and so forth). He held that the personality reflects the idea in the most faithful way. For example, the loss of the yeshivot during the Holocaust and the need for continuing the scholarly tradition in the United States he poured into the figure of the halakhic man.

Soloveitchik’s approach enables understanding of the national religious dynamic. I have also approached Mohiliver and Reines as ideal types, who can be described as follows:

(1) A man of meaningful action v. a political man.

(2) A man of facts v. a man of discourse, rhetoric, and persuasion.

(3) A goal-focused man, thus in some sense also limited, v. a man with broad horizons and considerations.

(4) A man turning to life itself v. a reflective man.

(5) A man who behaves according to his messianic interpretation v. a man who openly discusses this interpretation.

The interaction between the two types could act as a creative and driving force but could also lead to a hidden or open confrontation, delaying the dynamic of social and national processes, as was the case, for example, in Gush Emunim. The events related to Gush Emunim suggest that, factually, actions showing a lack of broad and moderate judgment might be reversible.

In the past, I distinguished two other types—a charismatic leader v. a rational leader—pointing out that this distinction helps to understand the decisions of religious Zionism (Schwartz 1999). This split does not seem useful regarding R. Mohiliver and R. Reines because neither of them were a charismatic type. Mohiliver might have come close to charisma, given the absence of any establishment features in his activity. According to the nature of his endeavor, however, he does not emerge as a charismatic figure. Nevertheless, the two types discussed in this article are not two versions of the same type but two different types.

I traced the variations of these ideal patterns in the establishment of Hapo`el Hamizrachi and the foundations of Gush Emunim. The tension between the types affords an understanding of the events and of the linking seams in religious-Zionist existence. I conclude with two examples.

In the early 1960s, the “revolution of the Young Guard” shook the NRP. This event was, in my view, the key to the establishment of Gush Emunim, compensating for the frustration of religious Zionists who lacked settlement myths and had feelings of inferiority vis-à-vis the secular socialist society. But the revolution was made by politicians and, therefore, they wove rabbinic authority into it, that is, subordination to national Torah scholars headed by R. Zvi Yehuda Kook. The result was friction between the activists, the settlers, and the politicians. Note that, at first, R. Zvi Yehuda had reservations about the activity of Gush Emunim and the confrontation with IDF soldiers. His starting point was as that of the politicians, and his reaction resembled that of Menachem Begin. When Hanan Porat and his friends swept him into unconditional support for the settlers, he abandoned the political model and fully adopted that of meaningful action. He held then that the settlers, who were graduates of the yeshiva, would reinstate the model of the Degel Yerushalayim politicians. His initial reaction, however, fit the political pattern from which he drew his authority, as it came forth in the NRP’s Young Guard.

Another example dates back to the mid-1970s when the board of Bnei Akiva took a fateful decision after the movement’s branches throughout the country discussed it and ratified it: adding service in military yeshivot to the ways of realizing the movement’s goals. Until then, the only option had been service in religious military units (Nahal). Henceforth, combining Torah study with army service was viewed as a realization of the movement’s goals. Through this move, the pattern of meaningful action made room for a pattern of discourse and expression of values through an intellectual medium. Gradually, the pattern of meaningful action faded, Hapo`el Hamizrachi declined, and, ultimately, whatever was left from this pattern is the religious kibbutz.

In sum, the typology and the various profiles it shapes and draws help to clarify the forces active in the religious national field.