Once, a young man approached a Jew in the street and told him that his synagogue needed a tenth man to make up a minyan for mincha, the afternoon prayer. The man responded, “I am an apikores (heretic)!” To this the young man answered, “Since when does an apikores not have to pray mincha?”[1]
We are living in one of the most difficult times in Jewish history. Since the days of emancipation, Judaism has come under constant attack from within and from without, and many have left the fold. This has had a devastating effect on the future of the Jewish people.
It is clear that there is a desperate need to turn the tide and bring Judaism back to our young people. This call comes not only from religious circles, but even from some of the most secular Jews, who realize that without proper Jewish education there is no hope for a Jewish future, neither in Israel nor in the diaspora.
Cultural events as a replacement for faith
Many have argued that belief in God and observance of rituals should no longer be central to Jewish education but should be replaced with cultural events and the study of Jewish history. These would encourage Jewish identity and pride as well as cultivating a sense of belonging. This, they say, should go hand in hand with regular visits to Israel.
Advocates of this proposal feel that belief in God is no longer relevant in an age in which science has replaced religion, and Jewish observance no longer speaks to the majority of our young people. Therefore, these two factors do not serve as enough of an incentive to remain Jewish.
But this theory is highly problematic. To argue that belief in God is outdated is not only a gross misreading of the truth, but also a denial of a real human need. When crucial values become obsolete, especially when people are overwhelmed with every kind of pleasure and comfort, they begin to feel increasingly like a stranger in their own skin. Since we have nearly everything, we are nearly nothing. So many of us are surrounded by existential emptiness, with little to live for. It becomes clearer and clearer that personal meaning is hollow unless it relates to something that is transpersonal. Increasingly we seek for meaning that transcends the smaller objectives, a loyalty that is ultimate.
The question eventually becomes: not is there anything worth living for, but is there anything worth dying for? This sense of greater meaning allows us to live fully and to endurewhatever life throws at us. And it is this need that has become most urgent in modern times. Only when we will offer our young people a way to experience an ultimate calling will their souls be recaptured.
When we have a careful look at our world, we realize that many false gods and ideologies are crumbling. People are hungry for the voice of God because only that can make them feel that there is indeed something worth dying for. The problem is that this voice has been stifled, and there is an urgent need to recapture its echo.
What has caused great harm is that in nearly all religious circles God is taken for granted and never contemplated. People fail to understand the difference between creed and faith. Maimonides did a great disservice to the Jewish tradition by introducing articles of faith, although he may have seen a need for it in his time.[2] Judaism and belief in God have become dogmatized and sterile.
A journey, not a destination
But Jewish faith is not a dogma. It is not something acquired immediately and once and for all. It takes an instant to trust an idol, but ages to attach oneself to God. It requires effort and preparation. It means growing in prayer, in selfless deeds, and in the realization of the mystery of all existence.
A Chassidic story puts this very well:
Once, when Rabbi Noach of Lefkovitz was in his room, he overheard a student begin to recite Maimonides’ Principles of Faith in the beit midrash. The young man paused after saying, “I believe with perfect faith,” and whispered, “I do not understand… I do not understand.”
“What is it that you do not understand?” asked Rabbi Noach.
The student replied, “If I really do believe, how can I possibly sin? But if I don’t believe, why am I lying?”
“You do not understand,” answered the rabbi. “The words ‘I believe with perfect faith’ are not a declaration—they are a prayer. ‘Oh, that I may believe!’”
At that, the student cried out, “Oh, that I may believe, oh that I may believe!” and was suffused with an inner glow. [3]
Faith means striving for faith. It is a journey, not a destination. It is a constant adventure, and can only burst forth at singular moments. In no way can it be commanded.
Faith is grounded in doubt
Faith is not born from logical deduction. It is born from doubt, which is its natural breeding ground. To believe that all doubts must be resolved before we attain faith is a mistaken notion. Avraham, Moshe, the many prophets, and Iyov all lived with implacable perplexities many of which were never solved.
To have faith is to live with unresolved doubts, prepared to rise above ourselves and our wisdom.
The Jewish tradition, with its many debates, provides a clear understanding that those who deny themselves the comfort of certainty are much more authentic than those who are sure.
The famous Chassidic sage Rabbi Mendel of Kotzk was once told about a great rabbi who claimed that during the seven days of Succoth his eyes would see Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaacov, Yoseph, Moshe, Aaron and David enter his Sukkah. The Kotzker Rebbe responded: “I do not see the heavenly guests; I only have faith that they are present, and to have faith is greater than to see.”
We praise before we are certain
Faith means that we worship God before we affirm His existence. We praise before we are certain; we respond before we question.[4] The great art is to live a life of religious devotion before we are sure about what we believe. Man can die for something even while he is unsure of its true existence, because his inner faith tells him it is right to do so. This honest admission of doubt is not only the very reason why it is possible to be religious in modern times, but it is the actual stimulus to do so.
Young people look for a life of commitment without having to be certain or buy into dogmas. They want to take an existential risk, to be able to say: I am prepared to risk my life for something ultimate in which I believe.
To argue that Judaism would be better served by cultural events, social gatherings in Hillel houses, or even trips to Israel is to badly misread the existential situation of the Jewish people today. In the long run, these activities will simply add to the problem if they are not accompanied by a strong spiritual component. Only an ultimate value can shape a fully committed soul. The question is not whether God exists, or whether the observance of rituals is divine. The question is: Do we realize that Jewish identity and Judaism is doomed to fail without the postulation that there is a God and an inner need to observe?
Our first concern must be to bring God back into the lives of young people, to teach them that the ultimate call is to re-engage with Judaism, and to encourage them to take the risk and become religiously inclined even if they cannot be sure. Studying the beauty of Jewish ritual, with its rich colors, deep wisdom and healthy outlook on life, is enough of a compelling reason to commit oneself to its lifestyle whether or not one is convinced of its absolute truth. What needs to be understood is that life is the art of drawing sufficient conclusions from insufficient premises, and we can be absolutely certain only of things we do not fully understand.
To believe is not to prove, not to explain, but to accede to a vision. It is for that reason that even an apikores should pray mincha.
Oh, that I may believe!
[1] Heard from Professor Menachem Kellner.
[2] There are many reasons to believe that Maimonides wrote these articles for the common man to give him some anchorage. It is also possible that he never believed in them in a dogmatic way. Others opine that he abandoned them later in his life. See: Marc B Shapiro: The Limits of Orthodox Theology, Maimonides Thirteen Principles Reappraised, The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2004, Introduction.
[3] Martin Buber, Tales of the Hasidim, Vol. 2 (New York: Schocken Books, 1948), p. 158.
[4] See the hymn “Ein K’elo-henu” in the Jewish morning service.
