“So, the religious guy who was meant to debate the issue with us didn’t show up. Could you speak in his place?"

As told to Rivka Streicher by Rabbi Y. S. Fried

In the summer of 1977, I came to Israel for the summer for a skin-healing regimen at the Dead Sea.

My wife and I stayed in Arad, the closest community with a minyan. This was in the days before it had a large chareidi population, before it was even a proper city.

One day, we drove some miles into the huge Tel Arad National Park, and settled ourselves on a pair of sun loungers. The wind swirled sand, and a shimmering haze formed in the distance. Aside from a lonely bar, there seemed to be no one around for miles… when out of the mist, a pack of youths sauntered over. They were from a nearby kibbutz, tough Hashomer Hatzair’niks.

They saw me, with my beard and chassidish clothing, and they started muttering. “Begin’s people. Soon we’re all going to have to look like him….”

Menachem Begin was Israel’s new prime minister. His victory had ended three decades of Israeli Labor Party dominance. These were new times. El Al had stopped flying on Shabbos. Begin was not afraid to say phrases like baruch Hashem or b’ezrat Hashem on TV.

They approached me, these youths, and one of them, the leader of sorts, said, “Listen, can you do us a favor? We were going to have a discussion about the new situation, about the kefiah datit [religious coercion] going on in this country. But we want it to be a fair discussion, you know. We’re liberals, we’re open-minded….”

I snorted. So open-minded, their minds were literally falling out.

“So, the religious guy who was meant to debate the issue with us didn’t show up. Could you speak in his place? We’re going to the pub, to debate this like men.”

“We can debate it like men, right over here. I’m not going to a pub.”

They nodded. They respected at least that.