Rabbi Nissim Naftali: "The Officer Asked Me: What Is This Shabbat for Which You Get Beaten?"

Rabbi Nissim Naftali, head of the 'Midrash Beit Nasi' institutions in Rishon LeZion, grew up as a religious child in a very secular neighborhood in Tel Aviv. "We were taught to act for the public good and to sanctify Hashem's name," he recounts. "This was the education both at home and in cheder. They always emphasized that because we live in such an area, we must set an example for others. I internalized this message greatly."

As an unmarried young man, he dreamed of dedicating Shabbat to gathering communities and delivering lessons to working homeowners who are free to learn on Shabbat. However, post-marriage reality looked different. "After the cholent, I would fall into bed, shouting 'How the mighty have fallen' and fall asleep. I always felt like I could and should do more."

The change in his life began in 1987, when Jerusalem on Shabbat turned into a battleground amidst the protests on the Ramot road. "I was like an officer in those protests. After one protest on Shabbat afternoon, an officer accompanied me home, curious to know: What's your thing? Why do you get beaten up here every week? I replied: 'For observing Shabbat!'. In response, he asked what Shabbat was. I started explaining as we walked towards my home. When we arrived, I said: 'Now it's the time for the third meal, come up and eat with us'. He said he was on duty and couldn't, but then turned to me with tears: 'I was educated secularly, and they didn't teach us anything about Shabbat. Now that I see you sacrificing for it, I understand it must be something great you're fighting for'.

Rabbi Naftali went up to his home with a determined decision in his heart. "I decided the era of protests was over, and the era of education began. If in Israel people do not know what Shabbat is, we simply need to go out and explain it. I decided to leave Jerusalem and move to an area where outreach activities are needed, but thoughts are one thing and actions another..."

Eventually, the plan was realized only after a year, when he fell ill and was bedridden for two months. "At that time, a letter was issued by the late Rabbi Shach, concerning the grave condition of secular Jews, stating everyone should do as much as possible for them. I called my wife and told her that this letter was for me – I am recovering and moving to a secular city to work on outreach."

At first, Rabbi Naftali moved to Ramat HaSharon, where they were seeking a rabbi and cantor. "I moved from Jerusalem to Ramat HaSharon. After a year, my children reached the age for cheder, so I moved to Bnei Brak, continuing to come to Ramat HaSharon every Shabbat. There was great siyata d'shmaya: a Jew from Singapore came to me, asking how he could assist in my activities. I told him I needed an apartment in the center of Ramat HaSharon for weekly classes and activities, and on Shabbat my family and I would be there. He indeed funded it."

Later, an American Jew approached Rabbi Naftali wanting to assist as well. This time, Rabbi Naftali was more ambitious, saying: "I need a whole building for Torah activities." To his surprise, the Jew gave a significant amount to establish the building fund. "While I was in the US, I delivered a lecture in his presence, after which he told me: 'I am not crazy. You should know that 12 years ago, I was at Porat Yosef Yeshiva with your head of yeshiva, Rabbi Yehuda Tzadka. Your rabbi pointed at you and told me: Do you see the young man sitting here? In a few years, he will do something, and you're going to help him.' This was two years after Rabbi Tzadka's passing, and I was very moved to hear it. I returned to Israel and decided to open something in memory of Rabbi Tzadka, and so I established an association for family purity."

The focus on family purity helped Rabbi Naftali find a place to establish his Torah center. "In Ramat HaSharon, I didn't think there was enough demand, so I started looking elsewhere. Eventually, we held a major family purity seminar in Rishon LeZion and realized from the demand that there was an audience to work with."

Despite receiving building funds from the American benefactor, Rabbi Naftali required, naturally, land allocation for his Torah center.

How did you manage to get an allocation in a secular city like Rishon LeZion?

"In 1995, I approached the mayor, who was a Mapam member but had a Jewish sentiment at heart. I told him I wanted to build a community center, and I didn't need a cent; I just wanted an allocation. After a year and a half, they gave me 1.5 dunams. We brought plans and were about to begin construction. While I was abroad, the mayor suddenly called and asked us to stop everything: why? Meretz people raised a storm about why we were given such a large plot in a secular neighborhood, launching a campaign claiming the mayor was turning the city religious. The mayor told me it was election season and asked me to do him a favor and stop the construction for eight months, promising post-elections he'd compensate with a better plot."

As expected, the mayor won the elections and Rabbi Naftali went to him to demand the promise's fulfillment. "He immediately said, of course, we deserve compensation and sent me with the city's architect to find a plot. This time we got three dunams."

Construction began in 2000. By 2002, the framework was complete, and then a new storm erupted around the building. "People from the original neighborhood opposing the center found themselves where we built, saw the building framework with the sign, and were livid. They thought they had succeeded in driving me from the city, only to find the project alive. They restarted their battles. For instance, they went online and discovered that in 1994, I received an award from the Zacks Foundation, an American foundation annually awarding five people engaged in outreach. Yossi Paritzky was in the Knesset then, and they complained to him about why a missionary like me was getting such a prominent location. A High Court petition was submitted, and the city received an order to halt construction for six months. Fortunately, the city was completely on my side and demonstrated in court that I was a normative, trustworthy person with no problematic background and that I had all the necessary building permits."

Today, the center still stands with a kollel, an evening kollel, 'Jewish Soul' activities with students from the College of Management, Torah classes, and of course, a synagogue. "It's a blessed period, and we're meeting many people drawing closer to Judaism. Some due to personal hardships, some due to a search for truth. Despite all the religious bashing in the media – there's a great thirst for Hashem's word. Not that people aren't influenced by the media – they claim to be, until a certain point where they stop believing what they hear."

Since the original construction plans were for 1.5 dunams, Rabbi Naftali decided not to change them, despite receiving a larger plot. What about the remaining land? That has its own story.

"Eight years ago, I submitted a request to build a mikveh there," he recounts. "Legally, I could build even 2,000 meters there. I requested to build a 1,000-meter structure: on the ground floor a very splendid mikveh and on the second floor a kind of school for family purity. I submitted a very nice plan – but was only approved for 120 meters."

For years, Rabbi Naftali tried to change the decision, but to no avail. The municipality was resolute. A mikveh? Build it the size of all other mikvehs. Why build something special?

"Six months ago, I approached a Jewish municipality member from a secular party but one who always helps us. I asked – tell me the truth, what's the opposition to a larger mikveh? He told me 'Close the door'. When I closed it, he reminded me that not far from our center there is a huge country club built by the municipality. The country club had already run into trouble because of two smaller private clubs in the area charging less. 'You'll build a mikveh, and women will be convinced to go to it – and they'll stop coming to the country club,' he told me. 'And in the end, such a group of women will come and demand separate hours at the country club!' he said. 'In short, a culture war.'"

That night, Rabbi Naftali met a strengthening accountant who regularly attended his lessons. "His wife had long refused to observe family purity and only started going to the mikveh a few months ago. I told him what I heard at the municipality, and he went home and told his wife. She got very angry, went on Facebook, and quickly organized a petition of 150 women from the area, most of them secular, demanding a mikveh in their neighborhood from the municipality..."

As a result, a month ago, approval was given for an 800-square-meter construction. "These days, we are preparing the plans and hope that, with Hashem's help, there will be no more obstacles and that Hashem's will succeeds."