The diversity of Jewish voices has long been considered a strength – a force we can draw from to build unity, despite appearances. But lately, something darker has surfaced. Many Israelis and Jews across the world, who don’t align with the Israeli government, attack their fellow Jews for their strong beliefs, dismissing them as “messianic” as if it were a slur, a mark of fanaticism, or even intellectual inferiority.
This isn’t just a matter of semantics. On social media, in opinion columns, and across the political spectrum, religious Jews are often dismissed and attacked for their beliefs.
Those who dare express joy and positivity despite the recent events and those who speak of national destiny or divine purpose are derided as “radical zealots” – to the point that the simple, millennia-old phrase “With God’s help,” long stigmatized and taboo in mainstream Israel, triggers knee-jerk, cynical reactions.
Recently, Prime Minister Netanyahu’s use of the phrase has been portrayed as a cynical ploy to hustle the religious base.
This divide isn’t new, but it’s growing sharper. It reveals a fundamental tension at the heart of Jewish identity between those who believe in God and the Torah and those who, ultimately, do not.
Faced with changing demographics and stronger religious representation, the modern secular Left seems increasingly uneasy with a worldview rooted in religious conviction. This conflict came to a head during the judicial reform crisis before October 7. Though momentarily set aside, it has resurfaced.
THE TERM “messianic” has become shorthand for this malaise. Instead of being used to describe theological positions or aspirations, it has become a catch-all label for religious Jews whose beliefs challenge secular norms.
Politicians such as Itamar Ben-Gvir and Bezalel Smotrich are dismissed as “messianic,” not just for their specific policies but for the worldview they represent.
The treatment of believers
Anyone expressing their belief in God in public is labelled in this way and discredited.
Throwing the word “messianic” around reduces complex ideas to caricature and avoids the real questions those ideas raise.
These “messianic” Jews are the secular Left’s stated enemies.
A recent example of this dynamic appeared in the controversy surrounding Maj.-Gen. David Zini’s appointment as the head of Shin Bet.
In his farewell speech to the army, Zini – himself accused of being “messianic” and therefore considered unfit for the role – argued that messianism, “which has come to the forefront of public discourse,” is not a “derogatory term.”
“We are all, like David Ben-Gurion and the founding fathers of the nation, messianic,” he said.
While Ben-Gurion’s messianism is debatable, Zini’s point was broader: As Jews, messianism is part of who we are. Messianism, whether some Jews like it or not, is not extremism, it is one of Judaism’s core pillars.
Indeed, the Rambam (Maimonides) listed the belief in the Messiah as one of Judaism’s 13 foundational principles.
Of course, messianism has taken distorted forms throughout history – from false messiah Shabtai Zvi’s movement in the 17th century to some elements of Chabad today – but to present such a normative Jewish belief as dangerous fanaticism is misleading – and dangerous in itself.
Why does public expression of belief provoke such hostility and fear?
Perhaps because outspoken belief in God and the Torah forces secular Jews to ask themselves existential questions (uncomfortable by nature): What do I believe in? What is my Judaism and my Jewish identity rooted in, if not Torah and tradition? What do I stand for – beyond what I oppose?
A religious worldview, especially one that refers to divine providence to shed light on national events, challenges the secular Left’s attachment to rationalism, Western liberalism, and democratic universalism.
This malaise breeds cynicism and contempt. Too often, the secular intelligentsia mock the faithful, not from a place of reason, but from a place of fear.
Dismissal is easier than self-reflection, cynicism safer than faith.
The religious are accused of not only clinging to outdated beliefs but also of endangering democracy, creating conflict, and obstructing peace.
THERE SEEMS to be no desire on the secular Left to bridge the gap, as if these worldviews were irreconcilable. This Left, perhaps out of ignorance, seems to be more at ease within global and Western frameworks than within Jewish particularism.
The desire for a two-state solution, for the separation of religion and state and for a Western-style democracy does appear poles apart from religious Zionism’s vision – with all its faults – of a Jewish state infused with Torah values.
Where, then, is the path to reconciliation?
The only way is if both sides are willing to seriously engage with the other. The secular must look inward – into their own Judaism, Jewish history, and heritage. Why not open a Torah and a Talmud? Why not celebrate Shabbat and the High Holy Days with more observant Jews?
It must come from a desire to reconcile, from a sincere curiosity. This can happen through local outreach or national curricula with programs that present Judaism not merely as folklore, but as a profound spiritual and intellectual heritage.
At the same time, religious leaders and thinkers must continue the work on build-bridging, like Rav Abraham Isaac Kook, who saw the secular pioneers as unknowingly doing God’s work, and like Zini, who advocates for integrating haredim (the ultra-Orthodox) into the army. Religious figures must make room for those who are questioning, seeking, or returning.
Zionism is the common ground.
October 7 reignited a sense of common fate among Jews in Israel and across the world. It has reminded both our enemies and ourselves that we are one people. Zionism is what unites most Jews and we must seize this moment to mend our differences. It is the thread that binds together our past, present, and future, a horizon large enough to uphold our diversity. It forces us to face what it means to be a nation, not just politically, but spiritually.
It is time for the secular Left to extend a hand to their believing brothers; and perhaps, in doing so, to their own selves.
The writer holds a PhD in cultural studies from Tel Aviv University. Her research focuses on post-Holocaust and Jewish literature.