They are loud. They are violent. And they are endangering us all.

Gedolei Yisroel — Rav Dov Landau, Rav Moshe Hillel Hirsch, and the Rishon Letzion Rav Yitzchak Yosef — have spoken clearly and without hesitation. This violence is forbidden. The violent demonstrators do not represent us. When our leaders speak with such clarity, our obligation is not only to listen, but to amplify their message.

Let us say it plainly: the pain is real. Watching young yeshiva bochurim, bnei Torah, being dragged away by police is heartbreaking. The anger, the sense of being targeted for who we are — it is genuine. No one needs to apologize for feeling that pain.

But precisely because the pain is real, we cannot allow it to morph into something destructive. What we have witnessed in the streets of Bnei Brak in recent hours — burning tires, flying stones, explosions echoing through neighborhoods — is not an expression of pain. It is a terrible chilul Hashem. It is a betrayal of everything we claim to stand for.

Let us ask a simple question: Has a single stone ever freed a bochur from detention? Has a burning tire ever canceled a draft order? We all know the answer. The opposite is true.

Every image of a chareidi youth rioting is a gift to those who despise us. Every video of flames in Bnei Brak strengthens those who argue that we are not part of society. Violence does not advance the cause in whose name it claims to act; it sabotages it.

Worse still, this violence has already endangered lives. When stones are thrown and fires are lit, someone can get hurt — and in the past, someone already has. Is that a price we are prepared to pay?

There are those who argue that police have also used excessive force. There are troubling videos. There are legitimate grievances. If there has been misconduct, it must be addressed.

But even if there are justified complaints, police overreach does not grant a license for anarchy. We are not a jungle society where “an eye for an eye” translates into burning city streets. There are legal, effective, and yes — Torah-true ways to protest misconduct. Hurling stones is not one of them.

This is the real test of our emunas chachamim.

We take pride — justifiably — in standing behind our Gedolim. When they instruct us not to enlist, we stand firm. When they say no, we say no.

But emunas chachamim is not a buffet from which we select only what suits us. Today there is no ambiguity. Rav Dov Landau wrote it explicitly. Rav Moshe Hillel Hirsch joined him. Rav Yitzchak Yosef went even further, calling to expel the violent protesters from our midst. The derech of our Rabbeim is one of dignity, persuasion, and firm but quiet resolve — not fire and stones.

Anyone who claims to represent the Torah world while throwing rocks represents only himself. He disgraces the very cause he claims to defend. More than that, he is acting in direct opposition to the explicit guidance of Gedolei Yisroel.

And for those who imagine they are sanctifying Hashem’s Name by igniting tires, consider a simple exercise: look at who applauds these images.

It is not your Rabbeim. It is not bnei yeshiva. It is not the Torah community. Those celebrating are the very people who wish to see us fail — activists who thrive on division, religion-haters eager for proof of their stereotypes, and politicians who will use these scenes to push even harsher legislation against us.

The irony is bitter: extremists from within and extremists from without feed off one another. They need each other. They are partners in destruction.

Meanwhile, the overwhelming majority of the chareidi public sits at home, learning Torah, raising families, clucking in disapproval at the chaos. But quiet disapproval is no longer enough.

It is time to say clearly — at our Shabbos tables, in our shiurim, in conversations with our children — this violence is not in our name. It does not represent us. It does not help us. It harms us.

This does not mean surrendering the struggle. On the contrary. It means waging it in a way that actually works — in the way our Gedolim have instructed — in a way we will not be ashamed of tomorrow.

The silent majority must find its voice before the fringe burns down the house we all live in.

{Matzav.com}