Will the real Haredim please stand up?

When the Yom Hazikaron siren blares across Israel, the nation freezes. Drivers stop their cars, pedestrians stand still, and for one minute, we honor the soldiers and civilians who gave their lives for this country. It’s not just tradition: it’s a gut-punch reminder of the cost of our survival.

Yet, year after year, some Haredim refuse to stand, sparking outrage and division. Their reason is that silence doesn’t “achieve” anything, and they’d rather recite Tehillim for the fallen. That’s nonsense, and it’s time to call it out: Haredim must stand for the siren. It’s basic decency, a Kiddush Hashem, and the least they can do in a nation bleeding from sacrifice.

It's bad enough that they don't serve and they hide from duty behind the Torah. The National religious manage to do both, magnificently. Their bodies fill military cemeteries, while Haredim sit in their yeshivas.

Let’s cut through the excuses. The claim that silence is meaningless while Tehillim is productive doesn’t hold up. Haredim aren’t chanting Psalms or learning Torah 24/7: nobody is.

As Israel mourns over 1,200 killed in the October 7, 2023, Hamas attack and nearly 1000 soldiers lost since, the argument that standing quietly for one minute detracts from spiritual elevation is absurd. It’s not about competing mitzvot; it’s about showing respect for those who died so we can live, pray, and learn in a Jewish state. Refusing to stand isn’t a theological stance: it’s a horrific, shameful slap in the face to grieving families and a fractured nation.

This year, the wounds are rawer than ever. Young heroes like Staff Sgt. Aner Shapira, who threw back grenades to save others at the Nova festival, and Cpl. Noa Goldenberg, who fought off attackers to protect civilians, didn’t ask who they were dying for. They gave everything: Haredi, secular, religious, Druze, it didn’t matter.

When the siren sounds, standing is a way to say: We see your sacrifice. We value it. To keep walking, to ignore the moment, sends a message of indifference that fuels resentment. At a time when unity is critical, with 360,000 reservists mobilized and communities reeling, Haredim can’t afford to be seen as detached from the nation’s pain.

The Haredi argument that their way of honoring, through prayer or study, is “better” misses the point. Nobody’s asking them to stop saying Tehillim. But the siren isn’t a religious ritual; it’s a national one, a rare moment when Israel pauses as one. Standing doesn’t compromise faith. In fact, t’s a Kiddush Hashem, a public sanctification of God’s name, showing that Haredim are part of this nation, not above it.

When Haredim in Bnei Brak or Mea Shearim keep moving during the siren, it’s not just disrespectful, it’s a self-inflicted wound, reinforcing stereotypes of insularity and deepening the rift with other Israelis.

And let’s be blunt: the optics are terrible. Social media is already buzzing with videos of Haredim ignoring the siren, sparking fury from bereaved families and soldiers’ advocates.

In Kiryat Shaul’s military cemetery, where Minister Avi Dichter faced heckling on Memorial Day, tensions are sky-high. With over 300 soldiers under 25 killed since October 7, many from the “TikTok Generation” who rose heroically, the refusal to stand feels like a betrayal of their legacy.

Haredim don’t get a pass because they “don’t like it.” Nobody likes standing still, hearts heavy, thinking of the fallen. We do it because it’s right.

This isn’t about forcing assimilation or undermining Haredi values. It’s about recognizing that living in Israel comes with shared burdens. The soldiers who died didn’t check if their comrades kept Shabbat before running into battle.

The least Haredim can do is pause for one minute to honor them. It’s not rocket science: it’s respect. It’s unity. It’s a chance to show the world that, in Israel’s darkest moments, we stand together. Haredim, step up. Stand for the siren. It’s time.