The decision to give up my exemption and enlist in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) after October 7 did not come from public debate or a desire to explain myself. It came from a deep internal feeling. It became impossible to stand on the sidelines as if this war were just another distant event.

I began basic training at the age of 37, aware there would be gaps and challenges. What I did not expect was how complex the experience would be, and how deeply it would make me rethink the relationship between secular and religious Jews.

During my service, our unit would stand together in the morning and sing the national anthem and “Ani Ma’amin.” Suddenly, I found myself overwhelmed with emotion. I thought of the many fallen, whose families will only be reunited with them when the words of “Ani Ma’amin” are fulfilled, when redemption comes, and the dead are revived.

Toward the end of a difficult march, during which we carried fellow soldiers on stretchers, we almost ran out of the strength to finish. I realized then how far one can go when there is no choice. I couldn’t stop thinking: what if we were carrying a wounded friend or a brother fighting for his life? The experience stopped being confined to my military service.

At the shooting range, something shifted again. Holding a weapon, you understand battle is not theoretical. I realized that, should the moment come when the nation of Israel is tested again, my men and I face the possibility of being sent to the front lines. That truth, which extends to every combat soldier, will stay with me forever.

Through these experiences, a broader picture emerged. For years, debates about Haredi enlistment have taken place above people’s heads. Each side believes it understands the other. In reality, the gaps are deeper and more complex than they appear from afar.

My IDF service ultimately meant experiencing firsthand the distance that exists between the Haredi community and the rest of Israeli society. A Haredi soldier constantly finds himself translating his identity when outside the community. Meanwhile, the decision to enlist is not always easily accepted by the Haredi community. At times, it feels like standing between two worlds that lack a meeting point.

Israel’s Memorial Day calls on us to pause and widen our perspective. More than asking who carries the burden, it’s time to ask whether we truly know one another. Without that understanding, any conversation about shared responsibility will always remain shallow.

My IDF experience did not lead to simple conclusions or quick solutions. I still believe that not everyone needs to enlist, especially those dedicated to Torah study, which I hold plays a vital role in our collective future. Additionally, the military is not yet fully prepared to integrate the Haredi sector.

But many of the gaps we speak about stem from the fact that we talk about each other, not with each other. Only through real dialogue can we begin to understand one another, even when we do not agree. From my time in the IDF, I came to see how essential that understanding is for any shared future.

Never forget that ultimately the Jewish people are brothers and sisters. There is always hope.