It’s estimated that up to 8,000 IDF soldiers and officers became religious in the aftermath of the Yom Kippur War

Photos: Elchanan Kotler

It’s estimated that up to 8,000 IDF soldiers and officers became religious in the aftermath of the Yom Kippur War, and this teshuvah movement had fertile ground: On one hand, the pioneering ideology of secular Zionism began to lose its luster, and on the other, the national trauma in the wake of heavy losses and military egoism made people reevaluate their deeply rooted ideas of what it means to be Jewish. The process of this this often-wrenching inner clarification, however, exacted a heavy price in both the personal and professional realms. Personal accounts from those who upended their pasts and moved into an unknown future

A Time to Kill, a Time to Heal

Brig. Gen. (ret.) Effie Eitam

Role: Platoon leader, Golani Brigade 

Today: Retired government minister

“I always ask myself if my becoming religious was sort of post-trauma from the war, or if it began long before that,” Effie Eitam shares. He is familiar to many as a former minister in the government and chairman of the National-Religious Party (which he left in protest of the expulsion of Gush Katif).

Eitam fought in the defensive battles against the Syrian Army in the Golan Heights. He and his soldiers stopped a convoy of Syrian tanks that was trying to infiltrate Nafach, using three bazooka anti-tank rockets and a heavy machine gun. Eitam even rescued injured soldiers from the battlefield and evacuated them to safety. He received a Medal of Distinguished Service for his actions.

Although Effie Eitam is one of the most prominent figures identified with the post-Yom Kippur War teshuvah wave, he says that the seeds were there before. “The more I think about it, the more I realize that there were glimmers of teshuvah before the war, back in my native landscape of Kibbutz Ein Gev.”

While the kibbutz rejected formal mitzvah observance, Eitam says he grew up with a lot of idealism and even faith. “In a kibbutz, there are a lot of faith-based ideals,” he explains. “There is the faith in the revival of Am Yisrael and the settlement of the land, and faith in the morality of society and in the fact that we all need to care for one another. In life, you have to look for a compass to follow, and when you grow up in a place that advocates idealism, it has an influence.”

For Eitam, the war expedited the process of a return to traditional Judaism. “When a young man goes into battle, he sees the fulfillment of the words, ‘Gam ki eilech b’gei tzalmaves, lo ira ra — Even as I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.’ He really fears two things: that something terrible will happen to him, and that he himself will do something terrible. Because the encounter with killing is not simple at all.

“The war’s ‘valley of death’ forces you to face the concept of sanctity of life, a central tenet of Judaism. Suddenly, you’re in a place where that primacy and sanctity seem to disappear. We’re commanded not to murder, but when you realize that you’re in a situation in which you are not only permitted to kill, but you even get a medal for it, like I did, your entire concept of morality is shattered. So you have no choice but to revisit what you really believe in, and clarify concepts that go beyond your personal life.

“So I would say that my teshuvah came from a deep desire to clarify what, exactly, is the life force of this nation that I am allowed to kill for it, and even be killed if necessary. That question brought me to the Mercaz Harav. At the time, in addition to becoming more spiritually attuned to Torah, I continued to serve in the army and was promoted to its senior ranks. The Torah that I learned balanced me out. I felt that now, finally, I wasn’t telling the soldiers ‘after me!’ just out of ego, but rather out of the genuine faith in the spiritual ideals for which we are fighting.

“I’m not saying the battlefield becomes a beis medrash. Soldiers have to be laser-focused on the technicalities of their missions. But in the end, it’s the heart that affects all the actions that we carry out in the field. It’s clear that people’s motivation to fight is intrinsically connected to their inner consciousness. And when that sense of self lacks idealism and clarity, then you’re left with a lot of technology and very little ideology.

“And that’s one of the army’s biggest weaknesses today. Even an F-35 fighter pilot who operates a sophisticated weapons system is ultimately a person who has beliefs, opinions, and emotions regarding the nation and the state.”

Eitan says that despite his radical life transformation, he felt great joy early on in the journey. “I felt like I had finally found the soundtrack of the movie in which I had grown up.”

At the beginning of the 2000s, he retired from the army, and because many in the national-religious sector saw him as their leader, he was elected chairman of the National-Religious Party, in which he served in various senior political positions for eight years, eventually resigning from the party and ultimately retiring from politics.

Eitan currently runs dialogue groups in an effort to generate better communication between different factions in Israeli society, and effort currently more important than ever. But he’s optimistic. “I believe we’re in a state of rebuilding and renewal,” he says. “Although it’s a painful process, it’s the delivery room, and not, chalilah, the department for terminal illnesses.”