Hasidic sect would forbid novel about forbidden love

This is the story of a boiler installer from Haifa who dedicated five years of his life to researching the extremist Toldot Aharon Hasidic sect, and ended up writing a romance novel.

The novel revolves around a story of the forbidden love between a young ultra-Orthodox woman and a secular man. Since the book has been published, its author, Menashe Darash, has known no peace. Ultra-Orthodox extremists, who were Darash's friends until not long ago, have decided to prevent the book from being released. Darash says he has been receiving harassing phone calls since he agreed at the end of last month to stop distributing the book and then retracted what he said was his coerced consent. And on Sunday, someone threw 50 mice into his living room.

Darash, married and a father of three, has been making a living for more than 20 years from a small boiler-installing business. He has difficulty explaining what made him decide five years ago to get inside the Toldot Aharon.

"One day I installed a boiler in some building near Kiryat Vishnitz in Haifa, and from the roof of the building the entire neighborhood was spread out before me," said Darash. "That same day, in the evening, I saw a report on TV about a rally by the Toldot Aharon, and I saw that they're very different from the Haredim [ultra-Orthodox] I knew until then. Apparently it was the combination of these two things that did it."

Darash began reading everything he could find about the Hasidim who wear striped robes, and made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem's ultra-Orthodox neighborhood of Mea Shearim. "I put a black skullcap on my head and I landed right in a study hall," he said. Despite his foreignness, Darash, a secular Jew whose parents immigrated from Iraq, was welcomed by the closed Ashkenazi Hasidic group.

"I met a very old man and won him over," said Darash. "Through him I met his whole large family, the children and the grandchildren, and they introduced me to the Hasidic stream. The truth is that in the beginning it was a little strange and they asked if I was a journalist, but I explained to them that all I wanted was to collect material for my son's school project. I went to Mea Shearim at least once a month, I bought books, and each time I returned armed with more knowledge."

A few months after Darash started his journeys to Jerusalem, he decided to write a book. He was influenced by a book called "The Daughter of the Rebbelach," which describes Tami Hindele, a pretty ultra-Orthodox woman who tries and fails to overcome her love for a secular man.

Darash said several Hasidim knew the kind of book he was writing. "Some told me that the Hasidism would not let it go quietly," he said. "I thought that at most there would be some complaints and curses and the story would be over." The book, which Darash and his wife self-published, was printed in Jerusalem and somehow made its way to Mea Shearim.

Asher Barak, an attorney who represents the Hasidim opposed to the book, said Darash misled them.

"He received information fraudulently," said Barak. "Their community hosted him, and he presented himself as someone who wanted to become religious. He put in the book all kinds of details that he acquired, such as a document that Toldot Aharon gives to its youths before they get married. This isn't something they tend to talk about in public."

Barak said his clients' greatest concern is that "youths from the community could become interested in the book, and its content could corrupt them. The romance at the core of the book is something that would not be considered in this community."

On September 28 Barak and two Hasidim came to Darash's house and asked him not to distribute the book anywhere; Darash refused, and they left.

The next day Barak called to offer a compromise, whereby Darash would be compensated for keeping the book under wraps. Darash and his wife got scared, and that evening Barak and two Hasidim came for an hours-long visit.

"They told me their rabbi would die if he knew the story, that I damaged thousands of children," said Darash. "Later they said, `We're the moderate ones, and it's worthwhile for you to deal with us. We're not responsible for what the radical ones will do.'"

The two parties decided that the Hasidim would pay Darash NIS 50,000 in compensation and that he would delete all references to Hasidism. He also said he would give the Hasidim all copies of the book and show them the amended version at a later date in order to get their approval for its publication. At 3:30 A.M., Darash said, he signed the papers they gave him without reading them. "I just wanted them to leave already," he said.

Israeli novelist Sami Michael, a neighbor of Darash's, witnessed part of the scene. "His daughter was crying, his wife had run upstairs, they told him to turn off the TV and he sat on the side chain-smoking," said Michael.

"I told the attorney and the rabbis right away, as the president of the Association for Civil Rights in Israel and as an experienced author, that any agreement made under these conditions is invalid from the start," Michael stated.

The next day Darash said he discovered that the agreement he had made verbally was not reflected in the document he had signed. When he told the Hasidim that he would send them the copies of the book only after the agreement was altered, he began receiving harassing phone calls, he says. One person called and said, "If you don't kill the book, you'll be killed," Darash said.

Barak said there was no evidence that Toldot Aharon was involved in the calls.

The case is now at a crossroads, said one of Darash's lawyers: The next step could be legal proceedings or a mutually agreed solution.

"Yes, I'm prepared to compromise," said Darash. "But only out of fear."