On Independence Day eve, a group of young people was happily celebrating the holiday at a popular bar on Sderot Rothschild. Sipping imported champagne and nibbling shrimp tapas, religious worship was the last thing on their mind. Suddenly, they turned their heads hearing loud music coming from outside. They went out to see what the noise was and ran into a group of Chabad yeshiva boys singing and dancing to the sounds of religious techno music coming out of the speakers of a van parked on the opposite side of the street. They joined them in their joyous worship and for the rest of the evening divided their time between the two sides of the street, oblivious to the gulf between them.

Tel Aviv Chief Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau.
Photo: Ariel Jerozolimski

Residents of Tel Aviv enjoy its reputation as a liberal city, open to radicals, outcasts and minorities. The city styles itself as a cosmopolitan metropolis, a place where everyone can do as they please and there are few taboos. Novel ideas are celebrated and expressed in every imaginable artistic manner. Human differences are rejoiced. The only lifestyle that seems at odds with this Tel Avivian zeitgeist is the religious way of life.

And so, for many years, Tel Aviv stuck to its staunch secular image. Religion was swept under the table and the good times rolled. But in the background, slowly and quietly, a mini reformation has been taking place. People from across the spectrum of Jewish belief are meeting in coffee shops and parks, in halls and in basements, in soup kitchens and in synagogues. And when they meet, they talk about values and morals and beliefs. They talk about history and legacy and traditions. They talk about life and death and love and hate. They talk about making the world a better place and helping the needy live with dignity. Some believe in God, some don't. Many probably aren't sure what they believe. This blending of ideas and opinions may eventually give rise to a new and distinctly Israeli Jewish way of life.

"The voice of prayer hasn't ceased in the city, from its founding till this day," says Chaim Gellis, who worked and led the Tel Aviv Religious Council for 30 years, knows the city's religious history and is eager to talk about its rich heritage.

"At its height in the 1950s and '60s, in a space of 1.5 square kilometers, there were nearly 50 hassidic courts in the city," he says, pointing to a photocopied map. Gellis, now retired, leads groups on tours of the city's spiritual byways for the city's tourism department. He says that for many, Tel Aviv is even holier than Jerusalem, because of its exclusively Jewish origins and the absence of any non-Jewish places of worship.

TEL AVIV Chief Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau says people from out of town are always surprised when they hear how many synagogues are active in the city. "When I ask a Jew from New York how many shuls he thinks there are in the city, he says, 'Ah, Tel Aviv is a secular city.' When pressed for a number, he'll throw out 30 or 50 at most." Lau says visitors are dumbfounded when they hear that Tel Aviv has 544 active synagogues with prayers held three times a day.

Lau stands at the head of the city's religious council, the municipal body in charge of administering religious services. The council is the arm of the Religious Services Ministry in the city and its membership is split between appointees of the ministry and of the city council and its budget is derived in the most part from municipal taxes.

Lau points to a gulf between the city's ultra-secular image and reality. He describes two separate and distinct Tel Avivs, the first being the city of its 400,000 permanent inhabitants and the second of its larger number of daily visitors from out of town. "Tel Aviv's rich cultural life, with its myriad of theaters, operas and concert halls, its sports clubs, its beaches and hotels, its restaurants and night clubs, is a magnet for a large population and it is they who create the reputation of Tel Aviv as a city that never sleeps and also of a distinctly secular city."

Lau says that the image created by the visitors often overshadows the real character of the city's inhabitants, but thinks that the residents are actually more religious than people might think. Using voting patterns as a rough indication of people's leanings, he points out the fact that out of 31 city council members, six belong to distinctly religious parties like Shas, Agudat Yisrael and the National Religious Party.

Lau, who raised eight children in Tel Aviv, says it is definitely possible to live as an observant Jew in the city, but indicates three areas where he sees real problems. The first is a shortage of synagogues in the city's new neighborhoods. The second is a decline in the number of functionary rabbis - a drop from 48 to 14 over the last 12 years. And the third is the desecration of Shabbat. Lau says that the city does not do enough to enforce the bylaw prohibiting the sale of goods on Shabbat and pointed to two retail chains - AM:PM and Tiv Ta'am as the main offenders.

He concludes by sending out a request for people to respect and uphold the city's historical heritage, before he rushes out to attend a mezuza affixing ceremony at a local Toys'R'Us store.

BUT RELIGIOUS life in Tel Aviv is not restricted to upholding the city's rich Jewish history. Today, Tel Aviv is bustling with religious and spiritual activity. From the 600-strong Hassidei Gur Yeshiva in the north to the large Progressive educational center in Jaffa, people from all across the religious spectrum are finding ways to incorporate Judaism into their lives.

One of the most successful endeavors of the past 20 years is the establishment of the Reform movement in the city.

"Although the movement has been present to some extent for decades, up until 1991 it was hidden away, operating out of basements, bomb shelters and kindergartens," recalls Rabbi Meir Azari, executive director of the Daniel Centers for Progressive Judaism. Progressive streams of Judaism are not recognized by the religious council, are not counted in its statistics and do not receive a budget. "After 25 years of legal and political battles, we opened Beit Daniel, a large and impressive structure in the north of Tel Aviv," continues Azari.