FAITH OR BEETACHON
Rabbi Yisroel Chait
Faith
in God is the mark of the righteous. It characterizes the unique outlook
which the man of God has on reality. But what exactly is meant by faith in
God is not simple to define. In times of trouble we are told to have faith—'beetachon'.
We are expected to understand what is meant by this adjuration, as if it
were self-explanatory. But when one takes the trouble of putting it into
intelligible terms great difficulties or confusions emerge. Is one to
believe with certainty that one's wishes will be fulfilled or that what one
fears will not occur? If so we are faced with the question of how we know
what God has in store for us. Do we not believe that even the righteous may
be punished? Haven't we seen people with even greater faith than us suffer
tragedy? Does having faith mean we ought to believe, 'all is for the good'?
But then we are not speaking of faith, only acceptance. Acceptance and
faith are on two different sides of experience: the latter prior to the
experience, and the former after the experience, when all that we feared
has already occurred. Some may say we cannot question the injunction to
have faith. Such people are admitting that they are devoid of knowledge and
understanding. We the followers of Toras Moshe cannot look favorably
upon ignorance. We thus remain with an unintelligible injunction which even
if adhered to cannot be truly virtuous as virtue and ignorance are mutually
exclusive. "The ignorant cannot be righteous."1
Moreover, since we do not comprehend what is meant by faith we have no way
of knowing if we are fulfilling the injunction. We do not know if what we
think is faith, is in fact faith and not some erroneous notion.
Let
us turn to the Torah as interpreted by our Talmudic scholars to help us in
the task of unraveling the idea of faith. In Genesis 40:23 we read,
"and the chief butler did not remember Joseph and he forgot him."
Rashi comments in the words of our Rabbis "since Joseph placed his
faith in him to remember him [Joseph] to Pharoh he was destined to be
incarcerated for two years." Tirgum Yerushalmi elaborates,
"Joseph abandoned the heavenly kindness that accompanied him from the
house of his father, and placed his trust in the chief steward, in created
flesh, flesh that tastes of death and he didn't remember the passage that
states and explains, 'Cursed shall be the man that relies upon flesh and
makes flesh his stronghold and blessed shall be the man that places his
trust in Hashem the Word of God and the Word of God shall be his
stronghold'2. On account of this the chief steward did not
remember Joseph and he forgot him until his time came to be redeemed."
In
the words of our Rabbis, Tirgum Yerushalmi and Rashi are referring to
Joseph's entreaty to the chief butler as mentioned previously (40:14,15)
where Joseph states to the chief steward in anticipation of the latter's
release, "If you will only remember me when things are good with you
and you will show kindness to me and you will make mention of me to Pharoh
and bring me out of this house. For I was stolen away from the land of the
Hebrews; and here also have I done nothing that they should put me into the
dungeon."
It
was apparently considered sinful by the Rabbis that Joseph, after
interpreting the dreams of the chief baker and chief steward, should plead
with the chief butler to remember him to Pharaoh.
We
are stymied by the words of our Rabbis. What did Joseph do wrong? Doesn't
the Torah teach us that we should make use of all available means to bring
about for himself beneficial results? Is it anathema to ask another human
being for help when in need? Didn't Jacob prepare an elaborate present to
appease his brother Esau? Didn't Esther use her psychological insight to
manipulate the emotions of the king? Did she not even fall at his feet
crying and pleading, all of which she was praised for, being considered the
savior of Israel?3 Why then should Joseph have been condemned
when he used, it would seem, the most natural method of securing his
freedom via the chief butler? Surely political savvy is not reviled by
Torah; it is not viewed as a denial of one's faith in God.
The
words of the Rabbis have deep meaning and we cannot comprehend them by a
superficial glance. Let us look more closely at the account of Joseph. We
must ask one question—what did Joseph do wrong in placing his request
before the chief butler? More correctly, what should he have done what
alternative method should he have used? The answer comes slowly but
clearly—he should have done nothing. He erred politically. Joseph had
completed the interpretation of the two dreamers who were with him in
prison. His interpretations convinced them that he was correct. In a few
days reality would corroborate his interpretation with exactitude. The
chief butler would walk away dazzled by this amazing man who via
interpretation could foresee future events. Joseph would have left an
indelible impression upon him, and at the first available opportunity he
would tell his master Pharoh of the unbelievable wonder he had witnessed
while incarcerated in order to further ingratiate himself to his master.
What prevented him from doing so? Only one thing—Joseph's request. The
Rabbis tell us that a scholar is held in the highest esteem in the eyes of
an ignoramus until the former tries to benefit from him. It is a matter of
human nature that when one sees another person in need and asking for
assistance, one's estimation of that other person is seriously compromised,
whether rightfully or wrongfully. It is further true that the baring of
one's soul and the disclosure of how one was repeatedly wronged to another
human being in an attempt to obtain sympathy is a double-edged sword. At
first, the listener may be compassionate. In the presence of the pleader
his emotions are softened; but when he leaves, his mind ruminates other thoughts
of a contrary nature. Is this person truly a victim? Are all those who
wronged him blameworthy? Perhaps this person is the cause (albeit
unwittingly) of his own downfall. Such thoughts and others like them
preoccupy the mind of the former listener. The high esteem that was
accorded the pleader is questioned and seriously reduced.
When
Joseph bared his soul to the chief butler he destroyed the idealized image
the latter had of him. Joseph removed himself from the pedestal he formerly
occupied in his mind. The butler instead saw a man in need of his favor,
one that was wronged by many individuals. Were those who supposedly
betrayed him, his family, and his master's house, totally to blame?
Questions arose in the chief butler's mind about Joseph's true worth. His
former high estimation was replaced with a low evaluation of Joseph. This
is clear from the report the chief butler subsequently gave of Joseph to
Pharoh two years later as stated in Genesis 41:12: "And there was
there with us a young man, 'naar,' a Hebrew servant to the officer
of the guard…" The Rabbis point out that the chief butler was
belittling Joseph by these introductory remarks. The term naar,
meaning youth, carries with it a connotation of foolishness. The word
"Hebrew" implies that he is not one of us. The term servant or
slave further indicates one of lowly status. Joseph had committed a faux
pas, a political indiscretion.
What
was the cause of Joseph's blunder? In the theology of Yahadus every
error is to be traced to some human imperfection. The Torah, being all
embracing, leads one to be wise, to act judiciously. If one does not act
so, he is not in harmony with its principles. Where does the imperfection
that led Joseph to his blunder? The Rabbis trace it to a lack of faith, beetachon.
In
the words of the Tirgum Yerushalmi Joseph "abandoned the heavenly
kindness that kindness which accompanied him from the house of his
father." How did he abandon this? The answer is straightforward—he
sought human compassion. He was lonely, estranged from every society he
knew, even that of the house of his master. In a moment of weakness, he
sought the compassion of a human being—the chief butler. Joseph bared his
soul to him, looking for the satisfaction and sense of security one
receives when eliciting human compassion. He thwarted his own goal because
of this momentary need. He unwittingly sabotaged the one element he had in
his favor—the chief butler's idealization of him. In the words of the
Tirgum Yerushalmi Joseph abandoned the chisda d'l'ail, the
compassion of the above, the true compassion of G-d which had been with him
from the day he left his father's house, the compassion which sustained him
while he was alone all those years in a strange land. He reached instead
for human compassion, basar avid—created flesh that tastes of
death. The sense of stability that man projects is illusory. Man is a
created being who has a very transitory and fragile existence. Put not your
trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in whom there is no salvation; his
breath leaves him and he returns to his earth.4 He cannot offer
the security man seeks when he is in need of compassion. The security man
offers is illusory. It is supported by the senses, not by the mind. Man's
task is to rise to the world of reality, a world beyond the senses; one,
which is known only by the Tzelem Elokim, the divine part of
his nature, his mind. On this plane man realizes the only one he may turn
to seek compassion is the source of all reality, the only eternal
being—G-d. Failure to rise to this level of existence is catastrophic for
man. Joseph's momentary lapse from the world of true reality to the world
of the senses and the emotions cost him two years of his life. Had he
possessed beetachon, true faith, he would not have failed. His
success was ironically imminent.
What
then is beetachon or true faith? It is not a mental mechanism or
device to be used when in need. It is a state of mind; an appreciation of
ultimate reality. In this state of mind one is in contact both in mind and
emotion with the creator. It is a state in which one senses total security
in the knowledge that the Creator knows his plight, that all operates under
his providence and jurisdiction. This idea offers man his true sense of
well being. It pervades him with an inner calm in the face of the most
formidable obstacles. In such a mental framework he is not in search or in
need of human compassion.
What
gives man this view of reality? His knowledge of G-d, which stems from
knowledge of G-d's works, the Torah—his word. As the Tirgum Yerushalmi
translates, Blessed be the man who placed his trust in Hashem, the
word of G-d. And the word of G-d shall be his stronghold. All of man's
knowledge of G-d is of His word. The word means His Torah, His Law, and His
Creation. The term 'word' is always used to describe G-d's creation.
"With ten words the world was created".5 "Who
with His word created the heavens".6 This is all based on
Genesis I in which the metaphor of speech is used to connote G-d's act of
creations. Beetachon is based on an outward direction of one's
mental energies. It's an appreciation of the full realm of the external
world and its source. This is the exact opposite of primitive man whose
energies are directed inward toward the self, who seeks to employ G-d as a
means of satisfying his wishes. Primitive man seeks faith in G-d as a
component of his overall egocentricity, a tool to secure his own well
being. In Yahadus the concept is based on an appreciation of the
outer world, the world of G-d's wisdom. Strange as it sounds, the person
who has greater beetachon is less involved in the self. He sees
himself as an insignificant component of the whole. This does not mean he
has no needs but that his needs are different. As a creature of G-d he
recognizes how integrally tied he is to his Creator, and his relationship
with the Creator is an intimate one, one that is fully satisfying. He is
not in need of man for approval or compassion.
The
man of faith has G-d at the center of his world. His focus is constantly
upon Him. He is in perpetual appreciation of G-d's word, His Torah, His
universe, and His wisdom. King David expresses it in Psalm 16:
I
have set Hashem before me always; because He is at my right hand I
shall not falter. For this reason my heart does rejoice and my soul is
elated, my flesh, too, rests in confidence: Because You will not abandon my
soul to the grave, You will not allow Your devout one to witness
destruction. You will make known to me the path of life, the fullness of
joys in Your Presence, the delights that are in Your right hand for
eternity (verses 8-11).7
His
knowledge that the source of all creation knows him intimately, that
whatever stems from that source is truly and of necessity the good, is the
cause of his total calm and sense of well being in all circumstances. As it
is stated it in Psalm 23, "Yae though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death I fear no evil for thou art with me." There can be for
him no greater reassurance than this one idea.
Definitively
we might say faith is knowledge of G-d as it concerns one's sense of
security. Does having faith change the outcome of an event? Most certainly!
But not as an isolated mechanism with some magical content. The outcome is
changed indirectly. It is a result of the fact that an individual with such
ideas, one who lives on such a plane is constantly under G-d's providence
and thus meets with a different fate than the rest of humanity.8
End Notes
1 Ethics of the Fathers 2:5
2 Jeremiah 17: 5,7
3 Book of Esther 8:3
4 Psalms 146:3-4.
5 Ethics of the Fathers 5:1.
6 Blessing for the new moon.
7 The Artscroll Tehillim. Trans. by Rabbi Hillel Danzinger.
(Brooklyn: 1988, Mesorah Publications, Ltd.) p. 27.
8 Praiseworthy is the man who does not forget You, the human being who
takes strength in You, for those who seek You will never stumble nor will
those who take refuge in You ever be humiliated.––Scherman, Rabbi Nosson.The
Complete ArtScroll Machzor Rosh Hashana. (Brooklyn: 1985, Mesorah
Publications, Ltd.) pp.459-461..
|
|