Can Religious Zionism Do Teshuvah?

Zach Truboff

In 1933, as the month of Elul approached, the Jewish people faced a frightening array of dangers. That year, Hitler consolidated power as dictator of Germany, and antisemitism throughout Europe was on the rise. Jews in the Land of Israel had found themselves embroiled in violent internal conflicts while also grappling with the British Mandate and their Arab neighbors. With the High Holidays soon to arrive, Rav Kook felt compelled to address the profound stakes of the moment by imploring Jews to do teshuvah.

For him, teshuvah was not just a religious ritual or a means to self-improvement but the guiding principle of human existence. God created the world so that it should strive for perfection, and humanity was to play the central role in the drama, the Jews most central of all. Rav Kook understood that secular Zionists would likely dismiss his call to teshuvah, for they had abandoned religious observance, but he was also aware that many of those who were religious would likely do the same. Being religious in a world where many are not means being confident that one is on the right path while others have gone astray:

The “religious”… look from above down below at those in the other camp, the secular camp. As it relates to thoughts of tikkun, of investigating one’s deeds, and of teshuvah… the religious individual [sees secular Jews as]… lacking Torah and mitzvot, and thinks that teshuvah, in the full meaning of the word, is only needed by them.^[1]

Rav Kook grasped that seeing oneself as religious can be an obstacle to teshuvah rather than a motivation for it. Within this mindset, one has little reason to question one’s actions or beliefs, while all problems in society must be the fault of others, for they are the ones who have deviated from God’s word. In his reflections on teshuvah, Rav Kook would describe this kind of thinking as a sickness, one that weakens the body and the soul.

The stubborn insistence on clinging to a single perspective and relying on it while [still wrapped] in the ‘ropes of sins’ that have grown habitual… is an illness that comes from being immersed in a terrible state of enslavement. That [state of enslavement] does not allow teshuvah’s light of freedom to shine.^[2]

Relentless narrow-mindedness that is unwilling to express doubts or ask difficult questions only strengthens sins’ hold on us. Instead of confronting that which might challenge our beliefs, we choose instead to cling to them harder, even as it leads us closer to destruction. For many Religious Zionists today, the “stubborn insistence on clinging to a single perspective” is not something to be denigrated but praised as the essence of faith. Perhaps even Rav Kook, the spiritual forebear of Religious Zionism, is to blame for this. He saw the Jewish people’s return to the Land of Israel and the establishment of a Jewish State as the realization of God’s redemptive promises, and his writings testify to a messianic optimism that history is well on its way to reaching its desired end. Any stumbling blocks along the way were just temporary setbacks. As a result of this, even nearly a century after Rav Kook’s death, when Israel is faced with crisis and catastrophe, Religious Zionists frequently proclaim there is no reason for doubt, because we are already at the beginning of redemption.

A clear example of this was seen in the wake of the Yom Kippur War, when―after thousands of Israeli soldiers were killed and hundreds more left captured in enemy hands―some rabbis triumphantly declared victory. Instead of seeing the war as possibly contradicting Rav Kook’s redemptive vision, they saw it as only confirming it. Though his thoughts would later evolve, this sentiment was expressed clearly by R. Yehuda Amital after the war in a series of essays whose spirit continues to animate much of Religious Zionism today:

There is no turning back once the return to Zion has begun. There are temporary moments of hiddenness but no retreat. All the paved roads and unpaved roads lead to the redemption of Israel… The beginning of redemption comes with pain and sometimes also by circuitous route… One must know from the start that from every tragedy will go forth salvation.^[3]

According to Rav Amital, pain and loss are the price that must be paid for the Jewish people’s return to the Land of Israel. Though there was reason to be concerned, what mattered most is that Religious Zionism knows it is on the right path. Any obstacles in the way will eventually be surmounted as Israel continues forward on the road to redemption. So much has already been achieved and, someday soon, God’s promise of redemption will be fulfilled in all its glory.

The Response to Crisis and Catastrophe Is Teshuvah 

There is, however, another path for Religious Zionism, one that remains loyal to Rav Kook’s call for teshuvah. Rav Shagar (R. Shimon Gershon Rosenberg), a young soldier at the time of the Yom Kippur War, had a markedly different reaction to what took place. His tank unit was sent to the Golan Heights in the war’s opening days as part of an effort to halt the Syrian advance. There, they faced an onslaught of enemy forces, and their tank was hit by enemy fire soon after entering the battlefield, killing both of his friends. Though grievously wounded, Rav Shagar somehow managed to survive, but the horrors of the war and the deaths of his friends weighed heavily upon him. Rather than confirm the core tenets of Religious Zionism, the war challenged them by raising difficult questions without easy answers.

Ten years later, at a gathering of soldiers who had fought in the war and then went on to become teachers in yeshivot hesder, he offered the following reflection:

In relation to the Yom Kippur War… everything that happened brings a lot of faith to anyone who feels such things. But my faith, as I feel it, is not always clear… there is shadow in it, there is darkness in it, there are perplexities in it… When we think about it [the war], it raises questions [concerning] our entire ideology, I mean the Religious Zionist ideology…. Is the path we are on the right path?^[4]

Rav Shagar’s words may perhaps be described as hirhurei teshuvah―the initial thoughts and questions that make teshuvah possible. Instead of dismissing the significance of the war or explaining how it had strengthened his faith, he explained how the war had caused him to reevaluate Religious Zionism and his place within it. He did not know where this questioning would lead, but he dedicated his life to addressing these concerns, and in doing so, he committed to a project of teshuvah, one where Religious Zionism would have to change.

Twenty years later, Israel would find itself in a new crisis, the terror wave of the Second Intifada, which rivaled the dark days of the Yom Kippur War. At the height of the terror attacks, Rav Shagar participated in a public dialogue with R. Yaakov Medan, where each was asked to reflect upon the religious meaning of the events taking place.^[5] Like his teacher, Rav Amital, before him, Rav Medan saw little need for Religious Zionism to rethink its core beliefs. Instead, he felt that God was testing Israel and the Jewish people, and that they must double down on their efforts to show their enemies that the Land of Israel will always belong to the Jews. Strength, determination, and sacrifice were what was required, so that God’s name could be sanctified. There was no need to question whether they may have done something wrong, for any second-guessing could lead to doubt and weakness. Jews needed to have faith in the righteousness of their cause and in God’s redemptive promises.

Once again, however, Rav Shagar viewed things differently. In his eyes, the events of the Second Intifada were not a test but a necessary opportunity for soul-searching and teshuvah. To illustrate this point, he turned to Rambam, who wrote that, in a time of crisis―such as war―Jews must fast, recite special prayers, and sound the silver trumpets, all with a single goal in mind: to inspire teshuvah.^[6] Rav Shagar understood that Rambam’s instructions were in many ways counterintuitive. When we face catastrophe, we naturally see ourselves as victims and blame others for our suffering. Yet, Rambam demands we look inward, take responsibility for what is happening to us, and use it as an opportunity for change. Rambam’s words can be a bitter pill to swallow, for it appears as if he is blaming the victim, but they capture an essential truth. If we will not do teshuvah when faced with crisis and catastrophe, we will never do teshuvah at all. This, Rambam explains, is the “way of cruelty, which causes them [the Jews] to remain attached to their wicked deeds.” It guarantees only one thing: to ensure that “the crisis will lead to further crises.”^[7] Those who fail to learn from tragedy are only doomed to repeat it.

Just a few years later, Religious Zionism would face a new crisis, one perhaps even more traumatic than those that had preceded it: the “Disengagement” of Israeli presence from the Gaza Strip. Unlike the previous catastrophes, this one was not brought about by external enemies but instead carried out by the Jewish State, the very state destined to bring the Jewish people to redemption. After the traumatic uprooting of settlements in Gaza, Rav Shagar explains that most Religious Zionists saw themselves as victims who had unjustly suffered at the hands of others. Rather than asking difficult questions about the actions that had led to the Disengagement, Religious Zionism was animated by “a renewed and totalizing sense of defensiveness and explosive anger.”^[8] They thought no change was needed because they were on the right path, but once again, Rav Shagar called upon Religious Zionism to see its pain and suffering as an opportunity for teshuvah:

Where does the Disengagement bring us? Like every tragedy and trouble, there is brokenheartedness, a deep sense of crisis, and great anger to which I, too, am a partner. But there is a need also for soul-searching [heshbon ha-nefesh] which means accepting the break, the shattering of what was, in order to make space for the new… Teshuvah is not a cosmetic change, rather it is a revolution… We are standing before a new situation, and it appears that historical experience [and the traditions we have received] are not sufficient to grapple with it.^[9]

When our world crumbles around us, our instinct is to turn away from the unknown and continue embracing the beliefs and habits that have long guided us. However, doing so forecloses the possibility of any real change, for teshuvah can only be achieved by embracing the discomfort that accompanies the collapse of the old to make way for the new.^[10]

The Danger of Righteous Victimhood

Rav Shagar feared that, by failing to use the Disengagement as an opportunity for teshuvah, Religious Zionists risked learning the wrong lessons from what had occurred.^[11] In seeing themselves as righteous victims who had lost the political struggle because they were too weak, many chose to embrace power and even violence as a means to ensure that it would never happen again and that the next time, they would be the ones to impose their will on their opponents. A sense of victimhood is a natural response to tragedy, but it often ignores how the damage done to every victim is always doubled. Not only do they suffer at the hands of their oppressors, but their pain changes them and not for the better.

To make this point, Rav Shagar drew upon the experience of the Jews’ suffering in Egypt: “The holy ‘Shelah’ [R. Yeshayah Ha-Levi Horowitz] interpreted the verse ‘The Egyptians mistreated (va–yare’u) us’ to mean that the primary sin of the Egyptians was making us evil (ra’im).”^[12] Being slaves in Egypt did not make the Jews more righteous. It corrupted them. The same was likely to occur to Religious Zionism, for faith in power―be it economic, political, or military―is the opposite of true faith. As Moses warned the Jewish people before they entered the Land of Israel, they must not come to believe that “my own power and the might of my own hand have won this all for me” (Deuteronomy 8:17).

For Rav Shagar, Religious Zionism’s increasing embrace of power politics and militarism could only come at the expense of its adherents’ souls. It would be “nothing more than a gross internalization of the crude dimension of the secular Zionist ethos,” which had historically expressed itself as “confidence in the IDF that replaces confidence in God.”^[13] To prevent this, he begged Religious Zionism to be open to teshuvah and to be willing to change the direction it was headed in, for “in war, there are only losers.”^[14] Religious Zionists must come to recognize that power and violence cannot achieve what they hope for because “a violent struggle just invites the next struggle. Hate nourishes hate. They make us evil, and we make them evil.”^[15] Or as the poet W. H. Auden once wrote: “I and the public know / What all schoolchildren learn, / Those to whom evil is done / Do evil in return.”

No Torah Is Permanent

 The terrible events of October 7, 2023, and the war that has followed present Religious Zionists with another chance to do teshuvah, even as, once again, most think little needs to change. In their eyes, October 7 was indeed a tragedy, but these are the birth pangs of redemption. Yes, the war has been painful, but those who have given their lives serve only as pave stones on the path the Messiah will eventually walk.^[16] The blame for October 7 clearly lies elsewhere. Without the Disengagement from Gaza, it never would have occurred, only proving Religious Zionism to have been right all along.^[17] In addition, nearly all Religious Zionists are united in the sense that they are righteous victims whose enemies must be defeated no matter the cost. Perhaps more than any other group in Israeli society, Religious Zionism has embraced the idea that the use of violence and force alone will solve all of Israel’s problems.^[18]

Nevertheless, in profoundly difficult moments like ours, we would do well to remember that the refusal to take any responsibility for tragedy is rarely, if ever, a sign of faith. Usually, it is a symptom of our sins. Like every Jew, a Religious Zionist must be able to ask themselves whether the path they are on is the right path. They must remain open to the possibility that some of their most deeply held beliefs may be wrong and that they must do teshuvah.

Perhaps even Rav Kook knew this might be necessary. In a fascinating letter to his son, he discusses the Talmudic sage R. Me’ir, a figure with whom he shared much in common. Because he saw light where others saw only darkness, R. Me’ir is described in the Jerusalem Talmud as “the messianic one,” whose teachings, Rav Kook explains, “would illuminate the world as if the messianic light had already eliminated the wicked like smoke.”^[19] However, R. Me’ir’s contemporaries could not fully grasp the depths of his teachings due to two differences in his personal Torah scroll.

The first involves changing a single letter in the story when Adam and Eve are exiled from the Garden of Eden. In our Torah, it is written that God made for them “garments of skin (or)”; however, in R. Meir’s Torah scroll, the word or was spelled not with an ayin but an aleph, changing its meaning to light. Instead of providing Adam and Eve with garments to protect them from the elements, God clothed them with light to ensure they would never dwell completely in darkness.

The second difference related to the way his Torah was written. R. Me’ir, a scribe by trade, added vitriol to his ink, which others did not use. It made the ink indelible, and once it was put on parchment, no corrections could be made. The reason for this, Rav Kook explains, is because:

He felt that banning it [the use of vitriol] led to great loss, for he believed that the possibility of erasure was antithetical to the refined lucidity of heavenly light that illuminates the eyes of Torah scholars with the law. So, he would add vitriol to his ink on principle.^[20]

One who believes they have fully grasped divine truth can leave no room for the possibility of its effacement. Instead, what is required is total commitment. Though perhaps sympathetic to this, Rav Kook still notes that the Halakhah was not in accordance with R. Me’ir. Instead of adding vitriol to the ink used for Torah scrolls, we follow the ruling of R. Me’ir’s teacher, R. Akiva, who forbade its use on both practical and theological grounds. Unlike his student, he understood that until the final redemption, “the world was still beholden to the power of erasure.” Even a Torah as powerful and holy as R. Me’ir’s cannot claim to be final. Remaining loyal to the legacy of Rav Kook means being willing to apply this principle even to his own teachings.^[21]

The alternative should be clear. Those who refuse to take any responsibility for crisis and catastrophe, those who deny the need for teshuvah―they act cruelly toward themselves and others. Rather than bring redemption closer, their actions only push farther into the distance.

^[1] Rav Kook, Ma’amarei Ha-Ra’ayah 1:15 (my translation).

^[2] Rav Kook, Orot Ha-Teshuvah 5:5. Translation by Yaacov Dovid Shulman, from Moshe Weinberger, Song of Teshuvah 1: A Commentary on Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook’s Oros HaTeshuvah (Urim Publications, 2011), 187.

^[3] Yehuda Amital, Ha-Ma’alot Mi-Ma’amakim, Chapter 2.

^[4] “Hodayat Asor: Siah Mishtatfei Milhemet Yom Ha-Kippurim,” Kotleinu 11 (1984): 155 (my translation). The article is a transcription of the remarks of the various soldiers who spoke at the event.

^[5] Shimon Gershon Rosenberg (Shagar), Beriti Shalom: Yamin U-Smol, Milhamah Ve-Shalom [My Covenant of Peace: Right and Left, War and Peace] (Yediot Aharonot, 2020) [Hebrew].

^[6] Mishneh Torah, Laws of Fasts 1:1-2.

^[7] Ibid., 1:3 (my translation).

^[8] Beriti Shalom, 218 (my translation).

^[9] Ibid.

^[10] It should be noted that this was a key belief of Rav Kook as well. See Shemonah Kevatzim 1:183 and 1:554.

^[11] His sentiments were expressed in response to the violent clashes between settlers and the IDF in 2006, when attempts were made to evacuate the illegal outpost of Amonah. See Beriti Shalom, 204-213.

^[12] Ibid., 212.

^[13] Ibid.

^[14] Ibid.

^[15] Ibid.

^[16] For a clear example of this approach after October 7, see Moshe Taragin, Dark Clouds Above, Faith Below (Kodesh Press, 2024).

^[17] See for example this op-ed by Hagai Segal, former chief editor of Makor Rishon, Religious Zionism’s flagship newspaper, published just a few weeks after October 7.

^[18] See for example Mikhael Manekin’s op-ed on the subject.

^[19] The Letters of Rabbi Abraham Isaac Ha-Kohen Kook, 3:808. Translation from Binyamin Lau, The Sages, vol. 3, The Galilean Period (Maggid Books, 2013), 176.

^[20] Ibid.

^[21] Even as Rav Shagar felt the need to rethink the Torah of Rav Kook, he was unwilling to relinquish Religious Zionism’s core belief that the Jewish people’s return to the Land of Israel pointed toward redemption. However, he reinterprets this idea in a way that attempts to remove messianism from direct political action. For more on this, see my previous Lehrhaus article, “Religious Zionism: Beyond Left and Right.”