In Israel, religious affairs are mostly dominated by staunchly conservative Orthodox groups.

From the mid-1960s through the early 1980s, several American immigrants to Israel founded or took the lead in various religious educational institutions. As discussed in Agents of Change: American Jews and the Transformation of Israeli Judaism by Professor Adam S. Ferziger (New York University Press, 2025), these schools trained thousands of advanced students and played a key role in laying the ideological groundwork for a new direction in religious thought and practice, particularly within the Religious Zionist world.

Ferziger, an American immigrant to Israel, holds the Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch Chair in Bar-Ilan University’s Israel and Golda Koschitzky Department, and is co-convener of the annual Oxford Summer Institute on Modern and Contemporary Judaism. His new book, Agents of Change: American Jews and the Transformation of Israeli Judaism (New York University Press, 2025), examines Israeli religious society that he argues stems largely from the influence of these immigrants.

The main trailblazers highlighted in the book are Rabbi Dr. Aharon Lichtenstein, who arrived in 1971 and became the co-head at Yeshivat Har Etzion, a hesder yeshivah that combines Talmud study with military service; Rabbi Dr. Chaim Brovender, who launched Michlelet Bruria (today Midreshet Lindenbaum), the first women’s institute to feature Talmud study; Rabbi Dr. Daniel Tropper, who established the Gesher organization that focuses on Israeli societal discourse, particularly religious-secular relations; Rabbi Dr. David Hartman, the creator of the pluralistic-oriented Shalom Hartman Institute; Rabbanit Malka Bina and Rabbanit Chana Henkin, the founders of Matan and Nishmat respectively, two trailblazing educational institutes for advanced women’s Torah study and religious leadership; Rabbi Dr. Nachum Rabinovitch, who headed Yeshivat Birkat Moshe (also a hesder yeshivah) in Ma’ale Adumim; and Rabbi Dr. Shlomo Riskin, leader of the Ohr Torah Stone educational network and former chief rabbi of Efrat.

Ferziger also devotes a chapter to Brooklyn, N.Y.-born Rabbi Meir Kahane, founder of the Jewish Defense League in the United States and leader of the ultra-nationalist Kach movement in Israel, and Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, arguably the most influential composer of Jewish religious music in the 20th century, who established Moshav Me’or Modi’im in central Israel.

The following is Ferziger’s interview with JNS.

Q: Why do you use the term Moderate Orthodox, not Modern Orthodox?

A: The religious culture that I’m exploring is the world of Jews who choose “Torah +.” That is, especially since the early 19^th century, various Jewish populations were confronted by profound cultural and political changes that emerged in the modern world. The Torah+ response was that one need not choose between full acceptance of societal norms or total seclusion. Rather, it is possible to combine and remain fully committed to Jewish religious observance.

In North America, this synthetic approach flowered through institutions like Yeshiva University, the day school movement, as well as certain synagogue congregations, and came to be known as Modern Orthodoxy. It was distinct from the traditionalist Orthodox outlook, which was often strongly resistant to change. Modern Orthodoxy implied that there was an appreciation for some of the intellectual, cultural and political innovations that characterized the evolving surrounding society.

By introducing the term Israeli Moderate Orthodoxy (IsMO), I wanted to highlight that the Israeli phenomenon at the center of my book is not an exact copy of reproduction of the American model. Rather, the Israelis built upon the Modern Orthodox worldviews disseminated by the rabbis and educators who immigrated to Israel during the mid-20th century, but after absorbing these “imported products,” the Israelis then readjusted or recalibrated them and produced a “creolized” local version. The term ISMO—Israeli Moderate Orthodoxy—announces that it’s an Israeli phenomenon with a strong American influence. It’s a transnationally produced product.

Q: I assume one issue in Israel, as opposed to the United States, is the army.

A: Absolutely. I wrote an entire chapter about the army that focuses on the burgeoning trend of religious women volunteering to serve as soldiers—increasingly in combat roles or as officers—rather than the alternative path of national service (Sherut Leumi) that was long the predominant choice for women educated in Religious Zionist schools.

One of the things I emphasize in the book is that there’s a good amount written about the relations between North American Jewry and Israel, but most of it relates to politics, such as how American Jews perceive Israeli foreign policy and Israeli defense policy. Certainly, today, after the last two years of war, it’s something that’s always on the agenda. My book examines the impact of American Jews on Israel through the lens of social and intellectual culture rather than politics.

Q: Israelis in general, secular and Religious Zionist, are educated and attuned to what happens in America, and they’re influenced to some extent by American culture. In the more liberal religious society in Israel, they seem to be more welcoming toward, for example, LGBTQ people and feminism, as you discuss in the book. Do you think the growth of a more moderate orthodoxy would have happened here anyway, without the influential olim?

A: As a historian, my answer is: Maybe, but it didn’t.

I can only address what happened. That said, there are certainly additional factors that impacted the developments that I describe. The key to my book is not that the American immigrants transformed Israeli society immediately or directly. Indeed, when the original agents of change arrived, they were looked at by many as Martians, outliers and even deviants in a certain way.

The phenomenon I observed is how their impact emerged from an indirect path. First, they attracted Israelis to the institutions that they established or led. The Israeli students, in turn, internalized the novel’s “imported” ideas but then reformulated them, considering their local sensibilities. In fact, in many cases, the Israelis became more radical than their teachers. I don’t think their immigrant teachers agreed with everything that transpired subsequently.

Q: Can you give an example?

A: There’s a chapter about Religious Zionism and biblical criticism. In this case, there’s clearly an impact of the academic model that Harvard-educated Rabbi Dr. Aharon Lichtenstein exemplified for his Israeli students, but many of them became much more radical in their approach to examining the biblical text.

Indeed, some of the people who founded the more progressive Hartman Institute were originally students of Lichtenstein at Yeshivat Har Etzion or similar schools who drew theological and intellectual conclusions that Lichtenstein and his cohorts rejected. Another critical example is regarding the role of women in certain areas of religion; some of the local Israelis who were exposed to American Modern Orthodox feminism eventually articulated novel outlooks and new religious roles for women that went beyond the boundaries that guided their immigrant teachers.

Q: What about the American denominations, such as Conservative and Reform Judaism?

A: For the most part, denominations are characteristic of North American religious culture, and even in North America, the sharp distinctions that once separated various streams have become far less pronounced. Collectively, Israelis have never fully grasped the denominational divide. When it hosts rabbinical seminars, the Hartman Institute serves people from all denominations who come, but the institution does not affiliate with any of them. That’s very Israeli.  There is an oft-quoted quip that the synagogue to which most Israelis choose not to attend regularly is still an Orthodox one.

Q: You devote a chapter to Beit Daniel, a Reform congregation in Tel Aviv, which has been very successful among secular Israelis. Given that success, do you think denominations could become more popular in Israel?

A: Based on what I have seen to date, I think it is unlikely. While the chapter talks about a non-Orthodox model in Tel Aviv that has worked well, the emphasis is that, like the Religious Zionist figures who occupy most of the book, the Reform center in Tel Aviv also recalibrated American framings—the synagogue center and the rabbi as CEO. The model developed at Beit Daniel doesn’t focus on Reform as a theology or a religious worldview as much as being a more open-minded and socially accepting religious framework. Beit Daniel is market-driven and offers a flexible environment that meets the needs of some within the large and diverse population of the Tel Aviv metropolis. In this light, I ask: Why did it work in Tel Aviv and not in other parts of the country?

Q: What about the more dovish political approach among some Religious Zionists who are deviating from the hardcore right-wing?

A: While this group exists and has made strides to have a bigger voice in public affairs, they are a small minority. On the contrary, one of the features of the ISMO segment of Israeli society that is especially hard for some to comprehend is the idea that someone could be simultaneously both right-wing politically and moderate religiously. That’s part of what my story tells. I don’t think the people I talk about are the most activist right-wingers, but they’re also by and large sympathetic to central Israeli defensive postures.

There’s often an equivocation between moderacy in terms of religion and moderacy in terms of foreign policy, but in Israel, it doesn’t work. It’s something that people have a hard time getting their heads around. No doubt it’s a complex mix, but it is a reality for a growing segment of Israeli society. I hope my book contributes to understanding this somewhat counterintuitive formula.

Q: You mentioned that there was precedent from the 1950s and ’60s for a more religiously moderate Religious Zionism—for instance, Bnei Akiva (Religious Zionist youth group) had mixed boy-girl folk dancing —and then it became more conservative and forbade such activities. That also happened in America; married women in the Modern Orthodox world rarely covered their hair, and many of the women and girls wore pants and shorts back then. Yet it seems that things might be going back in that direction among the younger generation. So, is it perhaps cyclical?

A: That’s an interesting observation. Cyclical implies that everything stays basically the same. My thought is that the emergence of more fundamentalist initiatives that demand punctilious adherence to elite religious standards is often followed by backlashes in which a younger generation may feel encumbered by the strictness that has been broadly adopted. But that does not mean that the newest stage is simply a reversion to a prior model. More often than not, the fresh result is a compromise in which stricter standards are still celebrated, but in practice, there is more acceptance of those who want to stay socially connected without needing to fully conform. 

Q: You mention fundamentalism. There seems to have been a shift toward fundamentalism in many religions, not just Judaism.

A: Since the 1980s, a lot of scholarship has focused on the rise of religious fundamentalism; the Iranian Revolution and American Christian evangelism are prime examples. Some very important articles were written using that framing to look at American Jewish Orthodoxy. The Israeli phenomenon is different in notable ways because there’s something emerging in Israel that I refer to, especially in the last chapter of the book, as Israeli Judaism. The role of living in a sovereign country, the challenge of what it means to do Judaism in a place where Jews are the majority, is historically unprecedented. ISMO Israelis may be more lenient regarding certain rituals which, in the Diaspora, were critical for religious preservation.

On the other hand, in Israel, there’s a great deal of religious identification expressed through army service and the secular-religious partnership upon which it is predicated. Some people will say that’s part of the reason why there are a lot of kids who grew up in Religious Zionist homes who are no longer observant. Indeed, the term “religious spectrum” rather than a monolithic religious sector has gained traction in the past few years. Some of this flexibility may be buttressed by the fact that most Ashkenazi Israeli Jews have some family connections to the Sephardic tradition, which is a little more open and flexible in terms of how people view what it means to be a believing, committed Jew. Unlike in American Orthodoxy, where there is a strong correlation between strictness in halakhic commitment, in Israel, there is a more legitimate space for people who are highly committed to their Israeli Judaism but not necessarily to punctilious ritual observance.

Q: What about the Sephardim in Israel? Are they also influenced by these immigrant agents of change?

A: I don’t think directly. Of course, there are so many families today with marriages between Ashkenazim and Sephardim, and the children identify just as Israelis. They go to university together or the army together or Bnei Akiva together, and these distinctions are much less pronounced than in the past.

I would say that rather than influence, there is confluence. Some of the lifestyles that ISMO Ashkenazim have adopted echo the more relaxed religiosity of the Sephardic tradition. I wouldn’t say that they’re the same, but there’s a meeting point.

Q: Originally, the goal of shlichim (“emissaries”) was to influence Jews to make aliyah, but that seems to have changed. Is it because of a change in priorities among Religious Zionists, or is it just a realization that most Diaspora Jews aren’t going to come?

A: Israelis are more cosmopolitan than in the past and have greater knowledge and perspectives about Jewish life abroad. In the book, I explore some of the emissary programs that aim primarily to strengthen Jewish life in communities abroad. This new approach is partially reflective of a recognition that most Diaspora Jews are not geared to immigration to Israel. At the same time, reality is a product of the flatter world that we live in, where there’s more of a give-and-take between different geographical spaces.

The chapter in the book on the Israeli reception of the books authored by the late (Rabbi Lord) Jonathan Sacks is very germane in this regard. The openness of Israelis to Sacks has a lot to do with a rising appreciation for voices from the outside. In the past, Israelis felt they knew better and that Jews from abroad had little to contribute to local discourse. What I tried to demonstrate in that chapter is that the attitude has changed. In part due to the rise of ISMO, there’s a larger readership that resonates with the intellectual and moral tropes that Sacks advanced.

Q: Do you see an influence from the American olim on the haredi and Hardal (haredi-Zionist) world?

A: I think it’s a book that must be written. I’d love to have a doctoral student who would write about the role of American haredim in Israeli Haredi society. Look at the Ramat Eshkol neighborhood in Jerusalem: When my wife and I came to Israel in the 1980s, that neighborhood was so Israeli; it had a large Religious Zionist contingent that supported a bustling Bnei Akiva chapter. Today, it’s home to hundreds of young American Haredi Kollel couples.

Due to the demand for American temporary residents, the cost of rent has gone up. Ramat Beit Shemesh is similarly a huge haredi community that has a vast English-speaking contingent. No one has examined their integration and their impact on the Haredi world. This subject is especially important considering the demographics that point to a swiftly increasing percentage of haredim within the broader Israeli population. There are also individuals like Rabbi Asher Weisstured in America and are major Haredi rabbinical personalities, but it’s not clear how Israeli haredim look at him or if he remains an outsider. Another well-known personality, Rabbi Moshe Sternbuch—the Av Beit Din of the Badatz (chief religious judge of a major haredi religious court)—came to Israel from England and spent time serving as a rabbi in South Africa.

Maybe my book could be a model that could be built upon for a scholar focused on the haredim. There is still so little written about the impact of English-speaking immigrants on Israeli society. My book is an initial step in exploring the aspect of Israeli society. Hopefully, it will provide insight and inspire a few readers to discover new and diverse ways in which American immigrants are serving as agents of change.

The post How American immigrants contributed to a new ‘Israeli Judaism’  appeared first on JNS.org.