Who Are the Real ‘Neturei Karta’ – ‘Protectors of the City’?
There is a well-known Yerushalmi (Chagigah 6:7) that relates the following:
Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi sent Rabbi Chiya, Rabbi Assi, and Rabbi Immi to travel through the towns of Eretz Yisrael and appoint teachers of Torah and Mishnah. When they arrived at one town, they found no such teachers. The townspeople said to them, “Bring us the guardians of the city.” They brought the town’s soldiers. The sages responded, “These are not the guardians of the city; they are its destroyers.”
The townspeople then asked, “Who, then, are the true guardians of the city?” The sages replied, “The teachers of Torah and Mishnah,” and cited the pasuk: “If Hashem does not build the house, its builders labor in vain…” (Tehillim 127:1).
At first glance, this passage seems to portray soldiers as a very negative force, while elevating Torah teachers as the true protectors of society. Indeed, some cite this Yerushalmi as a source to argue against serving in the Israeli army.
But is this truly the intent of the Gemara?
Such an interpretation is difficult to accept. Why would Chazal speak so disparagingly of those tasked with protecting their people? A closer look at the historical context offers a clearer understanding.
Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi lived from approximately 135–217 CE, in the aftermath of the failure of the Bar Kochva Revolt. Following its brutal suppression by the Romans, the Jewish people no longer had an army; it had been completely destroyed.
The “soldiers” referenced in this Gemara were not Jewish defenders at all, but rather Roman forces—or collaborators acting on their behalf.
This understanding is reinforced by the commentary of the Pnei Moshe, who explains that these “soldiers” would watch the population in order to fabricate charges and devise schemes to steal from them. Such behavior is inconceivable for a Jewish army protecting its own people, but it accurately describes an occupying force.
With this in mind, the pasuk from Tehillim cited by the Gemara takes on deeper meaning. The Metzudas David explains that this pasuk refers to King Shlomo, who foresaw through Ruach HaKodesh (divine inspiration) that despite building the Beis HaMikdash, his actions—such as marrying Pharaoh’s daughter—would undermine its spiritual foundation. Thus, “unless Hashem builds the house,” the effort cannot endure. Even the vigilance of watchmen is futile if divine protection is absent; the enemy will ultimately prevail.
Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi’s message, then, is not a condemnation of those who protect the people, but a warning about the consequences of spiritual failure. Without Torah education for the future generations, the nation becomes vulnerable, the Beis Hamikdash is destroyed, and foreign forces come to dominate and oppress.
The Gemara is explaining why such “destroyers of the city”—the Romans—were present in the first place.
For over 1,700 years following this period, the Jewish people lacked their own protectors.
Today however, we are privileged to live in a time when Jews once again stand guard over their own cities. At the same time, we are blessed with thousands of dedicated teachers in all of our cities across Israel, educating our children in Torah.
It is a profound zechus—a privilege and a responsibility—to stand alongside fellow Jewish IDF soldiers in Jerusalem, entrusted with protecting the city, together with the many other soldiers safeguarding Jewish communities across the country.
Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi would surely recognize those who have left the comfort of their homes, their spouses, and their children over the past months— especially over the course of Purim and Pesach—in order to defend their fellow Jews, as true “Neturei Karta”, genuine “Protectors of the City.” In this sense, they echo Rabbi Akiva’s admiration for Bar Kochva, whose mission was to safeguard the Jewish people against oppressive forces.
When we encounter passages in Chazal that seem, at first glance, to cast a negative light on those who protect us, it is worth asking: Is this truly their meaning? Often, with deeper reflection, we discover a message far more nuanced—and far more relevant.
