It’s been a week since the Atzeret T'fillah in Yerushalayim. I was zocheh to attend—and what an experience it was! Police estimated at least 400,000 people, but by many accounts, the crowd was even larger. We davened Minchah, recited T'hillim and Selichot, and accepted ol malchut Shamayim together. It was a heartfelt outpouring to Hashem, asking Him to protect the Torah learners, the Bnei Torah.
(Side note: I had a moment of near nevuah! I predicted that if Reb Meilech Biderman, shlit”a, led the tefillah, he’d say a d'var Torah first—even though there were officially no speeches. And that’s exactly what happened!)
Hosting so many people in Yerushalayim required immense preparation. In addition to police efforts, Ichud Hatzalah manned first-aid stations. Many yeshivot, batei midrash, shuls, and homes opened their doors, fulfilling the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim. Attendees were offered rest areas, learning spaces, and even free meals. On the streets, people handed out water, and residents let visitors use their bathrooms. I saw many offering food right on the sidewalks.
Let’s clarify the purpose of the Atzeret: It wasn’t a protest against the army or the draft—those are symptoms of a deeper issue. The core concern is the bizayon—the disgrace—of talmidei chachamim. People who want to dedicate themselves to Torah learning are facing arrest and imprisonment simply for doing so. That’s what we were crying out about. This tefillah gathering was a statement—not to the government, but to HaKadosh Baruch Hu. A massive tzibbur praying together is powerful in Shamayim.
Yes, some signs at the event were provocative, but they didn’t represent the event’s essence. To avoid missteps, no speeches were planned. One group even opted out because they wanted the issue of the draft addressed head-on—something our Gedolim felt was not appropriate here. The real question of national service and manpower is serious and valid—but that wasn’t the focus of the Atzeret. We were mourning the disgrace of Torah learners being treated like criminals.
Participants came from across the religious world: mostly chareidim—chassidim, Litvish, Sefardim—but also groups from the Mizrachi camp, like Yeshivat Har Hamor, who support army service. Even members of the new Chareidi brigade, the Chashmonaim unit, attended. Everyone understood this wasn’t anti-army or anti-soldier. It was a protest—through t'fillah—against the shame brought on those who strive to learn Torah.
Unfortunately, not everyone who wanted to come could make it. The train line to Yerushalayim was shut down early that morning due to “safety concerns from large crowds.” This type of closure had not occurred during other large anti-government protests, raising questions about the motive. The sudden decision caused travel chaos, leaving many stranded and unable to reach the Atzeret.
Despite that, many left the Atzeret uplifted. The tefillot were intense, the unity palpable, and the spiritual energy real. But sadly, some disturbances near the end cast a shadow. A small group caused trouble, triggering a strong police response. That’s what made the headlines. A tragic death was reported at first as crowd-related—it wasn’t, but by the time that was clarified, the damage was done. Some individuals acted irresponsibly, putting themselves in danger. The media latched onto those images, painting the entire tzibbur negatively. These missteps left many feeling disappointed or confused.
This sense of uncertainty shows up in other areas too. By now, we know who New York City’s next mayor is. But leading up to it, the election was chaotic, unsettling, even scary for some.
What’s the lesson? We’re in the middle of the story. Not the end. And it’s hard to see the full picture before the final chapter.
Avraham Avinu faced ten difficult tests. He never once asked Hashem, “Why?” Even when Hashem told him to sacrifice his son—it went against everything he believed in—he obeyed without question. Contrast that with Avimelech, king of the Plishtim, who challenged Hashem, saying, "Gam goy tzaddik atah hareg?" (Bereishit 20:4). He claimed innocence after taking Sarah. Hashem didn’t accept that. (It’s interesting how the modern Palestinians, who bear the same name but not the lineage of the Plishtim, also claim complete innocence today.)
Avraham thought he was about to give up his future, yet he trusted Hashem completely. His greatness was that he never hesitated. Eventually, he saw the rewards—but only at the end.
We must act with the same trust. Though it’s a time of hester panim—Hashem’s presence is hidden—we must believe that Hashem is guiding us. Look closely and you’ll find His hand, even in unexpected moments. (For example, a scandal recently broke involving the Israeli military’s Attorney General and other prominent left-leaning figures—just days after the Atzeret. Coincidence?)
Chazal teach that geulah—redemption—comes from yi’ush, despair. When all options seem exhausted, and nothing feels right, that’s when we must lean hardest on emunah and bitachon. That’s when salvation begins.
May we be zocheh to hear good news very soon, and to greet Mashiach swiftly in our days!
A Cry To Heaven: Reflections After The Atzeret Tefillah In Yerushalayim
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