There are some questions that are foundational to how we perceive and interact with the world around us. One of them is: How do we know if something is true?
There are many answers.
For some things, there are objective facts we can point to. Water boils at a certain temperature. For others, we need to observe them. We rely on experts and professionals to help us know true things about the universe.
We can know something is true when we hear a story and a piece of it resonates. We can believe something to be true (excluding something that is obviously untrue). Or when someone we trust tells us something, we can accept that as true.
It is this last one, truth as trust, that helps us understand the quality of emunah, or faith.
When someone tells us something, we trust that what they are telling us is true to the best of their knowledge. We have faith in what they’ve told us.
In a similar way, when we encounter the concept of emunah, we should understand it with that framework. We have faith in God (or whatever language works for you) in a trust dynamic. Trust goes in two directions, it is part of a relationship.
By way of example, let’s take a quick look at Psalm 92:2-3, recited on Shabbat:
ט֗וֹב לְהֹד֥וֹת לַה׳ וּלְזַמֵּ֖ר לְשִׁמְךָ֣ עֶלְיֽוֹן׃ לְהַגִּ֣יד בַּבֹּ֣קֶר חַסְדֶּ֑ךָ וֶ֝אֱמ֥וּנָתְךָ֗ בַּלֵּילֽוֹת׃
It is good to praise the LORD, to sing to Your name on high,
To speak of your hesed (loving-kindness) in the morning, your emunah, faithfulness at night.
First, the Psalmist tells us, it is good to sing praise to God. Sure, why not. Can’t hurt, right? But then, we get an important theological framework:
We speak of God’s hesed, loving-kindness in the morning, and emunah at night. Why is that?
At night the world is scary, especially before electricity, when it is dark and who knows what could be out there. In addition, the rabbis tell us that sleep is 1/60th of death. Sleep can be fearsome with that in the back of your head.
As a result, falling asleep becomes an act of trust.
Trust that we will wake up in the morning, alive. This is why we talk about emunah at night, placing our trust in the Divine to help us make it through until morning.
Once we’ve arrived in the morning and found ourselves still breathing, we can express gratitude and praise for God’s kindness, hesed.
With this in mind, I’d like to explore this powerful discussion on emunah written by the Avodat Panim, Reb Aharon Yosef Luria. I wrote about him last year when discussing the introduction to his book.
I’ve included most of the discussion below, edited for clarity.
(Also, a thank you to Rabbi Marcus Rubenstein for his help in translation.)
Avodat Panim: Letters 57 - The Subject of Faith
…There is a big difference between Emunat haMoach (Intellectual Faith) and Emunat haLev (Internal/Emotional Faith). Allow me to partially elucidate and expand upon this idea [by quoting the Talmud:] “Emunah comes from Seder Zeraim” (Shabbat 31a). [What is the reason for this perplexing statement?] When a seed is placed in the earth, for as long as it does not take root, it will not grow.
Luria here begins by outlining two types of emunah, the one that lives in our minds and another that lives in our hearts.
He quotes this line from the Order of Seeds, Seder Zeraim, which is the first order of the Mishnah (which is separated into six orders). It includes the tractate Berachot, which in part is about blessings we say over foods. Beyond that, the order discusses primarily agriculture and the various tithes that are required.
He uses this line from Shabbat in the Talmud to express that faith is something that needs to be planted and nurtured. While it remains a seed and is not rooted, faith cannot grow.
Similarly, when faith takes root in a person's heart, yirat shamayim (awe of Heaven/awareness of the will of heaven) grows forth. This [awareness] helps one to turn from evil towards doing good. But when faith is only an intellectual understanding, yirat shamayim does not grow, and a person will do whatever their heart desires [without regard to God’s will].
As a person who deeply connects to Judaism through intellect, this one hits deeply: intellectual connections are not sufficient, for Luria, to fully engage with some of the deeper spiritual sensations.
In order to have this awareness of God’s presence in the world and guidance, it must be something that has an emotional component. Otherwise, we can justify anything intellectually and might be drawn towards doing things we shouldn’t.
[The previous Slonimer rebbeim] advised us on how to cause emunah to take root in the heart: One should verbally repeat ideas or statements of faith [like a mantra], as it is said in Scripture, “it is in your mouth and in your heart, to do it” (Deuteronomy 30:14). The [is the reason for] the obligation to say [Rambam’s] Thirteen Principles [of Faith] daily.
As a spiritual practice, the previous Slonimer rebbes encouraged out loud repetition as a way to internalize various teachings, particularly ones regarding emunah. He uses Rambam’s Thirteen Principles of Faith as a prime example.
For those who might not be as familiar, these principles are also sung, in many communities, as Yigdal on Friday nights.
When one speaks words of Torah and Prayer with a settled and calm mindset, [as if] in the presence of God, and during moments of study and prayer, [one] consciously recognizes that God’s Torah fills the whole world with [God’s] glory, this too becomes what is meant by “repeating or practicing faith.” Are not words of Torah and prayer also words of truth and faith? When intellectual thought and speech are joined, it can inspire the heart. When one’s heart is inspired, it is an opportune moment to internalize emunah…
Luria expands his examples for repetition beyond the Rambam.
If we are engaged in Torah or prayer with the proper calm mindset, we can tap into faithful moments as well. (Two years ago, I wrote about a spiritual, faithful moment that occurred to me during Hanukkah.)
And then Luria explains that intellectual thought paired with the expression of ideas can inspire the heart. While he only uses speech as a framework, I think we could expand that to include all sorts of actions. Giving tzedakah, intimately and personally, can have a profound impact on the heart.
It is essential [for faith to become internalized], with help from God in dealing with all of the unique challenges each human being comes across, according to the intensity and degree of one’s service, effort, and supplications before God… Understand that when a person merits to taste the pleasantness of this emunah, they see for themselves that all worldly pleasures are just vapor compared to a strand of hair of true service of God.
Faith is a powerfully personal experience and Luria makes it clear here that the journey is our own. For each of us, God encounters us in ways that are rooted in our actions and efforts.
On top of that, he explains that the benefits of this experience of emunah are unlike anything worldly. It is vapor compared to a strand of hair.
This is the secret of Hanukkah: for thoughts are like the oil, the heart is the lamp, and the tongue is the wick. Bind them together and ignite them with the fire of Torah that one speaks with their mouth, as it is said in Scripture, “Behold, My word is like fire, declares the LORD, and like a hammer that shatters rock!” (Jeremiah 23:29).
The lesson of Hanukkah is embedded in the ritual item itself.
It is the combination of oil, lamp, wick, and fire that it is possible to make Hanukkah happen. Without each of the essential pieces, we cannot experience the light that shines brightly from our menorah.
So too, our experience of emunah becomes manifest when we combine the essential elements: our mind, our heart, our speech/actions, and words of Torah.
At this moment of the year, when it is so dark, when the days are so short, Hanukkah allows us to chase away the darkness with tiny dots of light.
What we know and understand about the universe is so limited, in some ways shadowed in darkness. What we know and understand are these tiny flickers.
By continuing to light the menorah, leaning into our knowing and not-knowing, balancing our trust and our doubt, about the universe and about God, the emunah of Hanukkah becomes a powerful claim.
We remain committed.
Committed, rededicated to the journey. The journey of self-discovery, of community, of interconnectivity. The journey of weaving together our minds, our hearts, our actions, and our Torah.
Happy Hanukkah!