We are continuing with the different hakdamot (introductions) you have to have. Previously, we went through the first seven and repeated them. Now we continue with another important introduction that you need before you get to bitachon (trust in Hashem). Hakdamah shenit (the second introduction): she-yeda ha-ma'amin (the believer), ki ha-borei yitbarech (the Creator, blessed be He) mashkif alav (watches over him). You have to know that the Creator, blessed be He, watches over him. God is watching you. Nothing is hidden from Him—not what is, or what is deeply hidden, or whether you are with a full heart or not.
This is interesting because he is not telling us anything here that we have to do. He is not telling us that we have to know about Hashem's power, and he is not telling us how much Hashem loves us. He is telling you that you have to understand that Hashem knows what is going on in your mind. You cannot fake bitachon. We will see a little later that bitachon is an area where you can fool yourself. A lot of times, people want to know, “I had bitachon and I wasn't answered.” We have to know: is it real bitachon or not? When you realize that, you can't say, “I'm about bitachon because I give classes on bitachon every week.” That doesn't mean anything. We will see later. “I pray every single day, too,” as does everyone else in this room. Is your heart there when you're praying? Not necessarily. Just because you're talking the talk doesn't mean you're walking the walk. Therefore, if you want to be a real ba'al bitachon (one who trusts in Hashem), he says, it has to be in your heart, in your conscience, and it shouldn't be said upon us. I'm going to discuss this pasuk (verse) later: “They honored me with their mouths and their lips, but their hearts are far away from me.”
This is a principle. It's a separate principle. We're going to have this day's class. We're going to talk about this principle of not fooling yourself in bitachon—not fooling yourself in how you talk and how you pray. It could just be words.
The Beit Halevi writes, in number two, how embarrassing it is. Three times a day, we say in our Amidah (standing prayer), in the second beracha (blessing), that God is the one sustaining us with His kindness. When someone falls down, God picks them up. When someone is sick, God heals them. But we say it every single day. No one in the room doesn't know that. But it's not steadfast in your heart. How do I know? He says, “I'm talking to myself. You get the slightest little something, and suddenly you forget everything. Panic sets in. Whatever the thing is: what's this, what's that, what's going on over here?” And all the bitachon doesn't do anything. You're rushing to the fastest whatever-it-may-be, whatever it is you're supposed to do. And we're not saying you're not supposed to. When you have a little bump on your finger, of course, find out what it is. But where's your head? Where's your head? Is your head totally reliant on Hashem, and everything's fine? Or does everything you learned suddenly disappear, and your heart isn't there? So that is—it's going to be a sobering class, I'm sorry.
But the Chovot Halevavot says it's dangerous. He's going to teach us soon. It's dangerous to fool yourself in areas of bitachon where you're not holding it. We have a story from the Beit Halevi. I'm going to read it to you in English. If you want to see it word for word, it's in Hebrew, number 3.
There was a wealthy man, one of the wealthiest men in the town of Brisk, whose secretary received a telegram that his boat had sunk at sea. In those days, I don't know if they had insurance. This man didn't have insurance, and when the secretary received the telegram, he didn't know how to share the news with his boss. So he went to the Beit Halevi, showed him the telegram, and said, “What should I do?” Basically, he says, “Leave the telegram here and tell the man I want to speak to him.”
The wealthy man walks into the Beit Halevi, who is in the middle of learning Masechet Berachot (Tractate Berachot), and looks like he's working very hard to understand the page he's on. The wealthy man looks over to see what page he's learning. He's learning the first page of the ninth perek (chapter). The first page of the ninth perek is pretty—there are a lot of stories in there, and the first Mishnah is also very light. It talks about what berachot (blessings) you say if you see a miracle, and it happens to mention that a person is supposed to bless Hashem for the bad just as he does for the good. So the Beit Halevi is sitting there, and his face is all constricted. He looks like he's really working hard to understand this difficult concept. The man says, “What sugya (Talmudic discussion) are you working on?” He says, “I'm working on the sugya that you have to bless Hashem for the good like the bad, and you have to accept everything. I'm working on it. It's very hard to understand.”
The wealthy man started to say, “What's the problem? Everything's going to be fine,” and gave the whole speech. The Beit Halevi took out the telegram, and the man fainted. He fainted. The Beit Halevi told him that it's easier said than done. You can talk and talk and talk, but it doesn't become part of us. Maybe at the end we'll get to why it doesn't become part of us, but we have to be aware of that.
Another story the Chovot Halevavot tells—we mentioned this a little in the Beit Halevi class. We're putting these topics all together. There was a man called a parush (he's separated). We mentioned in a different venue recently that a parush is one of the highest levels the Chovot Halevavot describes. It's one of the later gates. Parush means he's separated. He describes the perushim (ascetics). It's a little eerie, but he describes a group of perushim who would leave their families and stay in a separate area, just doing their avodat Hashem (service of God). They'd come home once a week to be with their families, but they were just thinking about God and contemplating, and everyone had a little hut because that's all they needed. In front of the hut they had a ditch, and that ditch was to remind them that eventually they were going to leave this world. That's a parush, a very high and lofty person, and we're talking about 800 years ago.
We have this man who's a parush, living his life, and he needed money. He went to a far-off land for his business and met a certain idol worshipper. People have told me they've gone to China and seen people in a factory who worship the Buddha. This religious man sees the idol worshipper and tells him, “How silly you are. How blind you are. How little understanding you have! You're worshipping this doll, this statue. What's wrong with you?” The idol worshipper tells him, “What do you serve? You know who I serve? I serve God, who's all-powerful, who created the world. He's the one who gives everyone their parnasa (livelihood). There's nobody like Him.” He goes on and on describing how great God is. The man responds, “Your actions contradict your words.” The parush says, “And what do you mean?” He says, “If what you said is true, if your God is so powerful, why are you traveling to China? Why don't you stay home? He'll give it to you.” The man was stuck. “Kibelah pishut v'na'etaihi.” He accepted pishut on himself and didn't leave his city again. He stayed home.
Again, we do hishtadlut (effort), and we travel; we do what we have to do. We always have to make sure that our bitachon talk is not just talk. It has to be real. We'll see more on the topic in a moment. A lot of times, we're going to see from the Chazon Ish that people talk bitachon when everything is good. Everything's good, so it's very nice and comfortable to talk bitachon. It's calming; it's nice; you feel good about yourself; you rely on Hashem. But everything's fine. When things come that aren't fine, it all disappears because it wasn't real. Therefore, the Chovot Halevavot dedicates one unit of his hakdamot to the proper introductions you need, to focus on this concept.
Number five: an earlier story. There was a kohen (priest) who needed to go on a business trip. Rav Chatzkel Levenstein points out that in these two stories, the person is talking and saying something, and someone else points out to them that they're living a falsehood. There was a kohen who needed to go on a trip, and he wanted to tell his wife the laws of tzara'at (leprosy). He told her that there are different hairs and spots on the hairs. He was going to describe to her the laws of tzara'at, which the kohanim (priests) knew. He took up a number five. There is not a hair—every hair has a follicle, every hair has a follicle. He told her one of the rules is that every hair has its own follicle. His wife told him, “It's only going on this trip for. If God gave a follicle for every hair, can't He give you your parnasa over here?”
Rav Chatzkel Levenstein says, “Most people, or many people, live like this most of their lives. They can grasp high and lofty thoughts in their minds: aval ze nish'ar v'muskalot (but it remains in the intellect). It all remains in the sechel (the intellect). V'lo chadrap choder p'nim al'alev (it does not penetrate into the heart). Ha-lev eino shomea mah she-ha-peh medaber (the heart does not hear what the mouth says).” It's possible—it's a scary thing—that you could really talk and listen and like the topic, and find it entertaining and inspiring, and say everything you want to say about it, but it hasn't entered your heart.
Number seven. Again, we're quoting different sources to show how this shows up in many Rishonim (early rabbinic authorities). The Rambam's son writes in number 7: “K'gon mi shetirei u-voteach ba-Hashem yit'aleh min ha-safah la-chutz” (his bitachon, his lip service). “V'yomar” (and he says): “Hashem mefarnes” (Hashem provides a livelihood), “mechayeh u-memit” (He gives life and death), “mocheh u-marpe” (He causes sickness and healing). “Avol b'sitrei libo” (what's going on really in his heart): “Toleh rechishat nechasim” (he attributes his acquisitions). Why did he make the money? Because I worked hard. I toiled. When it comes to being sick, it's all the medicine. It's a scary thing. I'm talking to myself. You have a headache, you take an aspirin, and the headache goes away. Finished. Where's God? That's not—you know, we're not thinking that if God didn't want it, you'd get an allergic reaction to the medicine. Anything could go wrong. But we just talk it, and it's not—it's like, really? You're really going to act that way?
You read stories about the real people. The Brisker Rav was a giant in bitachon. Did I tell you this story? I don't remember if I told you this story or not. If I did, I'll be repeating it. The Brisker Rav is in war-torn Europe. He escapes with his family, and he's the one everyone has heard the story about: the Ein Od Milvado (There is none besides Him) story. He's the source of the story. He's escaping from the Nazis, and he tells his children on the train to keep thinking those three words. These are children; we're not talking about adults. He trained his children there, 11, 12, 13, and he's training them: “Ein Od Milvado,” and the Nazis just don't see them. We can say Ein Od Milvado all day, and you can have bumper stickers and signs, but is it really part of you?
This is the story of the Brisker Rav. He's in war-torn Europe, where there's a shortage of food and people are hoarding food. He had a set diet, whatever his diet was. He has two slices of bread for breakfast, and whatever for lunch. He has his diet, and he's following it; he's not hoarding. It comes to the ninth day, the eighth day of Tishrei, so it's two days before Yom Kippur. He only has the bread he happened to get from the rations or whatever it was, and they're telling him, “You know, we don't know what's going on. Save for tomorrow.” He says, “Hashem gives me everything. I don't have to save for tomorrow.” They're pushing him and pushing him and pushing him, and he saved a piece of bread for the next day. The next day, a baker who heard that the Brisker Rav was in town had some wheat stored up for preparing for the winter with the yashan and chadash (old and new grain), and he made him, I don't know, ten loaves of bread for every young people on the way. The baker went back to his house and brought a tray of fish. On the way to the Brisker Rav's house there were bombs, and he had to run and dropped all the fish. He told the Brisker Rav, “I'm sorry, I was trying to bring you fish, too.” The Brisker Rav told his family, “You know why I didn't get that fish? Because I saved a piece of bread yesterday.” He said, “Come on, it's wartime. What are you saving bread for?” The Brisker Rav is saying, “I'm getting money every day. I gotta eat my day today, and Hashem takes care of me tomorrow.” That's the way I live my life.
We don't live our lives that way. So we're bitachon light. Bitachon light means we believe it, we talk it, but we don't really live it. We try. Therefore, I'm going to tell you why it's important to know this. It's a sobering class because sometimes, or a lot of times, we don't get what we want, and we say, “What's going on? If you really rely on Hashem, you'll get it.” But we don't really. We have to understand that bitachon is not just knowing it in your head. Therefore, he's dedicating this unit to that.
We continue with the Chazon Ish, who wrote a whole chapter on this. He's going to explain why he wrote this chapter. I'll tell it to you in English. Again, I don't want to bore you with the double translating, so we'll quote him. To the Chazon Ish, it's easy to rely on Hashem when it's not the time for bitachon. It's difficult when you're really supposed to have bitachon. It's easy to talk bitachon when it's—when I want to discuss something that's just theoretical. He uses the words, “I'm just enjoying the fantasy,” because life's good, and I fool myself and others into thinking that I really have bitachon. It's nothing more than a fantasy, because it's not—it's just like saying, “You want to ask a question: what's going to be when?”
Today we discuss the halacha (Jewish law) in the Torah Center, learning about Bechorot. It talks about firstborn animals and firstborn people, and it goes on to blemishes in animals. It talks about animals that can't see well and people that can't see well. There's a question of a kohen who can't see well and needs to squint. Is that considered a blemish or not? Rav Steinman, Alav HaShalom (peace be upon him), discusses: what about wearing glasses? Can a kohen wear glasses in the Beit HaMikdash? The answer is that you can't wear glasses because you only have to wear four set garments for the regular kohen and eight for the kohen gadol (High Priest). Glasses would be considered an extra added garment, so you can't wear glasses. It's a whole discussion. This is all called lo lema'aseh (not practical). It's not practical. The optometrists won't feel bad about the discussion, knowing that they won't be able to sell glasses in the Beit HaMikdash because it's not practical. We're talking about Mashiach's (Messiah's) time, so of course it's a nice discussion. Everyone talks very easily about it. When it becomes practical, then it's a whole different story.
That's the famous joke they tell about the communist who's being sworn into the communist party. We've said this in the past, but this is just a great mashal (joke). They swear him into the communist party and ask him, “Okay, here are the following questions. If you have two boats, what do you do with the boats?” “One for me, one for Mother Russia.” “You have two houses. What do you do?” “One for me, one for my daughter.” Everything. They finally say, “You have two coats. What do you do?” He doesn't answer. “You have two coats. What do you do?” He doesn't answer. “Why aren't you answering?” He says, “Because I have two coats.” As long as we're in theory, I'll give you everything I want. But we want to know l'ma'aseh (in practice)—what we call—it's a Yiddish word, but it's in Hebrew—it's called Takhlit. Takhlit means bottom line, for real. It's a whole different story.
The Chazon Ish says that many people were not put to the test. Turn the page, 8b. How do I know when it's real? How do I know it's not just chirping? The Chazon Ish is very, very sharp here. People just chirp bitachon. When the situation comes up, they need bitachon. How do you act then? Go to 8c, where he writes the following story. He's being very harsh, the Chazon Ish. You have this guy, Reuven, who's really a Musari (ethical person). You look at the person. He's an avid student of Rabbi Miller, and he's always talking about Musar. He's always singing the bitachon song. He's always making fun of people: “What do you go to work so early for? I learn until 11 o'clock.” He's Mr. Bitachon. “What are you, chasing parnasa?” Of course he's talking that way. His business is doing great, and everything's fine, and he has no problem. He's got a wonderful retail store, and he doesn't have to go in till late; the managers are running it, and he loves bitachon because bitachon is smiling at him.
Next paragraph: suddenly we're surprised to see Reuven ha-boteach (Reuven who trusts) start whispering to his friends, “How are we going to undermine the guy who says someone's opening a store across the street? What are we going to do to stop him?” He's upset about it, he can't think about it, and he's plotting. What happened? Mr. Bitachon, what happened? Why aren't you helping the guy open this store across the street? You're giving me all these speeches, everything's in the hands of Hashem, and you're telling all these guys, “What are you going to work for?” What happened? Put your money where your mouth is. That decides real bitachon. Real bitachon is when it's real, like the two great stories we've told in the past.
One is about Mr. Hidri, Alav HaShalom. This story was told to me by one of the Ajmi boys after they had to close their retail store down because they were held up in the Bronx, and they were going to open a wholesale business, but they didn't know anything about wholesale. They didn't know anything about wholesale. The fellow telling me the story was 19 years old, and his father told him one Sunday, “We're going to Mr. Hidri's house.” They went to his house. He had a table set up for them, and the father told the son, “You know, start writing.” Mr. Hidri starts saying, “Okay, so the factory, this is the factory you go to. And the insurance you get from this guy. And this you get from that guy.” He goes through and lists every single thing to do. Afterwards, they walk out, and the son tells his father, “Does he know that we're opening the same business as him?” He says, “Of course he knows. He's my friend.” That's real. That's real bitachon. No one can take anything away from me, and I'm going to help the guy go into the same business as me. That's what the Chazon Ish says in another spot in the same sefer. He says, what is real bitachon? He says, that's this. He says there was a story in Bnei Brak: someone had a printing press, and there was another guy opening one. He was the only printing press in Bnei Brak. Someone was opening another one, and he went to the guy and told him, “Don't order the ink from there. This is what you should do.” The Chazon Ish says that creates Kiddushah (holiness) in the world like nothing else. Because that's real. That's real. That's real.
And that guy—and the Chazon Ish says this, and Rav Wolbe says it as well—I don't know if Mr. Hidri ever said the word bitachon out of his mouth. He might not know what the word bitachon is. He didn't go to Chovot Halevavot classes. Because it was real. It was real.
That's story number one that we told. Story number two was told to me by Carol Haber, my cousin. Her father was known as Mr. Abe Sutton—leave out his nickname—and he was in the Orient. The story was told to her when she was sitting shiva for her father. No, sorry, she wasn't sitting shiva for her father. She was sitting someplace 13 years after her father passed away. She was sitting next to Manny Haber and Saul Batesh, who's good friends with Manny Haber. Manny introduces Carol Haber to Saul Batesh. “Who are you?” “Carol Haber, Carol Sutton.” “Who's your father?” “A.B. Sutton's your father? Let me tell you a story about your father. Your father made me—I owe everything to your father.” “What did your father do?” He says, “Mitsu Batesh.”
So he went to the Orient because his business closed down. He didn't know what he was doing. He spent three weeks just trying to do something, and nothing worked. He's sitting in the lobby, just moping. He didn't do anything. He's embarrassed. Someone sees him there. Mr. Sutton calls him over and says, “Who are you? What's your name? What's going on?” He tells him the story. Mr. Sutton picks up the phone and calls down the fellow from his factory. He sits with him and says, “You do this, you do that. You do this, you do that.” He set him up. They were both selling handbags, and they both still sell handbags. A.D. Sutton and Sons, Bag Bazaar, Mitzvah Pitesh—they all sell bags. He set someone up to be his competition. What is wrong with you? The answer is, they were real. They were real. They didn't learn Chovot Halevavot. They were real. When you're real, it's real.
The Chazon Ish says, “I'm writing this. Why am I writing this for you?” The Chazon Ish says, “This doesn't sound nice. I'm knocking people that he calls ish Musari. I'm knocking the guy who's going to classes and learning about bitachon. Why am I knocking him?” He says, “You know why? Go to 8D. What is the gain, the benefit? Why am I writing this book? I'm putting this down forever, for posterity, to say there's phony bitachon people out there. What do I have to do that for?” By telling this disgrace, he calls it Chachim HaPenein, we'll get a little wake-up call. There's nothing worse than counterfeit bitachon. He says lack of bitachon is a lack. It's a problem. He says if you don't have bitachon, you almost don't have the fundamentals of our religion. But worse than a lack of bitachon is counterfeit bitachon. The lack of bitachon—okay, you don't have any money, that's fine. You have a counterfeit bill? He says there's so much destruction that comes from counterfeit bitachon. He thinks he has bitachon; he's doing things, he's shooting people, he's crushing people with his phony bitachon, and he says it's going to cause a chilul Hashem (desecration of God's name). Therefore, we have to know that there are people out there who look like they have bitachon, act like they have bitachon, smell like they have bitachon, but don't have bitachon. When you see funny things happen, the Chazon Ish says, “I want to just let you know, he wasn't really a ba'al bitachon. That's why it happened.” You're not saying—but you could fool yourself.
How do you know it's real? When you get into a situation and catch yourself. Somebody cut me off in real life. How do you act in real life? Someone comes and does something to you. Your neighbor blocked your driveway. Someone did this. What is your reaction? Is your immediate reaction, “Stop, it has nothing to do with this person. Hashem's in charge. I have an issue”? Is that your reaction? Or do you start getting all huffy and puffy: “What am I going to do? How do I stop that guy? What are they doing? The principal and this, the teacher and this one, that one, and the other one”? It happens. When that happens, you have to catch yourself and say, “Stop. Where's my bitachon? Why am I acting this way? Why am I losing myself? Where's your bitachon? You're a phony?” Tell yourself that. If you're aware of it, then it's not such a point. Of course, that's the point. You call yourself out. That's the whole point. That's the whole point. When you have instances and lapses, don't just go and live the false bitachon and say, “Okay, that was a temp, that was—you know, that wasn't whatever. That doesn't count, right?” No, it does count. It counts. It's an indicator. It's not like you have two strikes and you're still good in bitachon. Every strike means that you're lacking. Therefore, don't fool yourself and say, “Yes, I'm working on it. I'm trying to get there, but I'm not Mr. Bitachon. I've got to work on it.” Not on yourself. When someone comes to the rabbi and says, “Oh, you know, just have bitachon and this and that,” what do you do when you have a problem? You lose it.
Number nine. I'm sorry for a sobering class. In what way is it damaging? Two ways. I'm going to read it right now. One is, I've seen fools. They think they can do anything they want, and they're almost reckless because they're—and it's not—they're using it just as a way to excuse themselves from what they're doing. Rav Bloch says a second one on number 9. He's bothered by this in another chapter, and this is a famous discussion. We're not going to go into it now, but the Chazon Ish seems to say—we use the word “seems” because it's not simple—he seems to say, don't think that if you rely on Hashem, you'll get whatever you want. Bitachon means that whatever happens is good. Now, that's very far from the truth, because there's a thing called relying on Hashem and getting what you want. But the Chazon Ish seems to take that aspect of bitachon out of the picture, and he almost turns bitachon into emunah (I believe in Hashem). That means, “I believe in Hashem,” but what about the fact that I can rely on Hashem and get something when I rely on Him? There's a lot written about that, saying that if you rely on Hashem, you can get what you want. The Chazon Ish takes that whole aspect of bitachon and downplays it. Like, don't think you can rely on Hashem and get what you want. So Rav Bloch is bothered. There are lists of Rishonim that clearly say you rely on Hashem and you get what you want. So what's going on? Rav Bloch says, “You know why the Chazon Ish wrote this? Go look at number 9 now. ‘Hayta, the second line. Lafuke me'chilu Hashem ha'gadol sheyeshna rachmana l'atzna.’ This great chilul Hashem caused by counterfeit bitachon. ‘Rabim, Rabim, Shalom, Glatzman, Kol Tzok.’” They didn't work on themselves properly. Well, they didn't work on it at all. They heard bitachon. They didn't work on it. They didn't spend any time on it. “Okay, that's it. I have bitachon.” Did you learn it? Bitachon is a topic, like anything else. You can't just say, “I want to write tefillin (phylacteries). I don't know. Tefillin, bitachon is a topic.” We see it's a topic. That's it, they grab the title. I have a guy impersonating a doctor. There are people like that. They impersonate doctors. They have no credibility. They impersonate as a doctor. So he's impersonating as a ba'al bitachon. He didn't go to school, has no license, but he put a sign on his door. He's a ba'al bitachon. This guy, he's announcing it to the world. What happened? Well, with all this bitachon, he ended up going forth; he's a ba'al bitachon in his business, sneaking and conniving with everything else. Then the whole business collapses, and he lost millions of dollars from all kinds of people who invested with him. And what happened? He's the big ba'al bitachon. Bitachon doesn't work.
Now look, the guy relied on Hashem and nothing happened. So does that mean it shouldn't happen? He says it doesn't always mean that when you rely on Hashem, it's going to happen, because the Chazon Ish is afraid of all the phony people who say they're relying on Hashem and it doesn't happen. Now bitachon looks bad because look at all these people having bitachon, and it's not working. Not working. That's what certain rabbis say—it's a little scary. If somebody is, lo aleinu (God forbid), deathly, deathly ill and medically there's no hope, and then the day before the funeral they have an enormous Tehillim (Psalms) reading and the person passes away, it happens sometimes. Last minute, they call a Tehillim reading. What are you really doing for the world, bitachon-wise? You're pulling people into a room, trying to give them almost false hope, because we don't have miracles, and it's almost—you're asking for a miracle. You want to say Tehillim on your own, probably that's one thing, but you never even got a mass thing together, and the person is—you know, the doctors already said they have 24 hours to live. And we're not—never give up hope, but again, I'm sorry to be a party pooper. Rabbi Eliyahu Lopian said it says a person shouldn't give up hope even if there's a sword on his neck. Rabbi Lopian said, “A sword on his neck, but not through his neck. When it's already through his neck, it's over.” There's a point when it's over, and when you go and it's already over, and now you go and say—and now you just cause sometimes—using it when you're not holding it or it's not practical can be dangerous. Sorry to be sober, but that's what they do.
But now, what's the message to the world? The person gets a lot of good—give charity for that—but call them together now, and all these little girls are praying for whoever they're praying for, thinking they're going to do something. They say, “Oh, tomorrow they passed away.” Sorry, that doesn't—it's not good chinuch (education) for bitachon. So, should they not? I'm not saying. I don't know. I'm just—this is halacha. This is just—we're just talking. We're just talking. Nothing here is practical. There are rabbis who say one thing. There are rabbis who say the other. Go ask your rabbi. Lo aleinu, that we shouldn't have these problems, so we should have known. But there are rabbis, without naming them, who say do not do that. There are rabbis in our community who don't like that. We're not going to get into it now. It's not important.
In respect to what I was just saying, when you pray, it's like last minute like that. Right. And in a way, you sort of know. Maybe you do. What about the little kids in the room who don't? Can you explain it in a way that's in the bank? “Those brothers aren't going to go unanswered. They're going to be put in the bank.” I said, do you want to say it for their zechut (merit)? Fine. But going with the mindset that it's, it's, it's good—
Next, number ten. I'm sorry for all the rabbi—I'm not deciding this; I'm not a rabbi. I'm just giving a class on bitachon. Number ten: “Al yeshur.” Okay, I want to quote: there is no quality “shekora has more mistakes.” There's no quality that people fool themselves about—there's no other midah (character trait) that people fake themselves about. You want to talk about truth. I know if I'm a truthful person or not, and once in a while your husband asks you, “I thought the last time I checked you out it was $300.” “Oh, I don't know. I'm not sure.” On the side, you bought yourself a bottle of something or other. I don't know what. So you hide things. I spoke to a lady recently. You don't have to share everything you spend with your husband, and if they ask you, you finagle. So you know you're not so honest. He wouldn't do that. He was a very honest person. So you know you finagle a little bit. You know that. You're not fooling yourself.
When it comes to being tough on yourself, it's very elusive, very hard to catch yourself and believe that you're missing something. Again, I'm quoting from Rav Wolbe. He's a great man. “That's it, I have it. I am davening right in there without any learning about it. It's just, I have it. I just got it. I got the title. I put my cap on, and that's it.” As we said, it's a job. It's a job. At number 11, he repeats himself. So everyone thinks he's totally complete. But when the action happens, he says, “Oh, what happened now?” He starts looking for excuses and answers. “In this situation, he really had to.” And it's not a stira (contradiction). His words are, “It's falsehood,” and you're fooling yourself. These are great rabbis talking, and again, it's sobering. I'm talking to myself because I know myself. I talk a lot about bitachon, but I'm not a ba'al bitachon. I get it. I get myself into trouble. You have to know that you have to be able to admit to yourself. That's the first step. This is what Rav Wolbe taught us. One important thing is this: there's nothing wrong with admitting to yourself that there's a weakness in yourself. That's a good thing. You got to realize that it's a great thing. You should almost feel good about yourself. Say, “You know what? I just caught myself.”
He tells over a story, a little bit extreme. There was a yeshiva called Kelm, we've heard of that, and there was a fire in one of the dormitories or something. Because of the fire, the boys had to go home or something. One of the boys admitted to the elder of Kelm that when he saw the fire, he thought, “Oh great, I'll get off.” That's an ugly thing to be thinking about a fire in a yeshiva, but he was honest enough to admit it. Yes, that's what I thought. That's what I thought.
Sometimes we have—where are we human beings? We have to acknowledge, “I can't believe it. After all that work on bitachon, my housekeeper called erev Shavuot (the eve of Shavuot) and said she's not coming for three days, and I lost it. I lost it. After everything, I just lost it. I blew up at my husband when he said, ‘What's the big deal? You don't have to ask him in three days.’ I slammed the door in my daughter's face. I said, ‘I'm not cooking for the next week.’” And what happened? What happened? I should have said, “What do you mean? Hashem decided I shouldn't have a housekeeper. Obviously it's good.” “Havan go on.” So that's how you know if you're holding it or not. Not, “Oh, in that case I should have gotten upset, but I'm really—” No, chew it through and say, “What's going on over here?” And I practice it when I'm preaching.
That's why there's a sefer called Birkat Avraham from Avraham Erlanger, and he says an unbelievable thing. We'll read it together in number 12. On one hand, he's going to start off saying something you're going to want to hear. It says, “Le'olam lo yihyeh pasuk hazeh zaz mitoch picha” (this verse should never leave). A person should always say pesukim of bitachon. “Chazal ba'al l'tchazeh tamim v'mitabit. Lo'y v'ayv'al with your heart.” Fourth line. “Pen sakhar l'chol ha'bochim.” So why do we use the word—we say we want to have those who rely on Hashem in truth. Why is that word used? He says because it's an area where it could be untruthful. You could be not real.
Famous story. Turn to page number 13. Yisrael Salanter is giving a class on how, if you really rely on Hashem, you can get whatever you want. A man says, “You mean if I buy a lot of—that's it?” He says, “Yes.” The man goes and buys the lottery ticket. The day before the lottery drawing, Yisrael Salanter offers the man $5,000 for the winning ticket, and he sells it. Yisrael says, “You're a phony. Because if you really had bitachon, you're not selling it. That's what real bitachon is.”
You know, you say your little prayer before you put the thing into the Chinese auction box, right? For the David Rudy jewelry. Someone comes over and says, “I'll give you half the value.” Who's not taking it in the room? Who's not taking it? That's the test? That's the test? Is it real or not?
Number 14, and now he's going to quote some pesukim to prove this point: that Hashem is reading our minds and our hearts. Number 14: the pasuk says, “God knows our thoughts, that they're sometimes just hot air.” Another pasuk: “God understands what's going on in the depths of your heart.”
Skip to 20. This is the last pasuk that the Chovot Halevavot quotes. It's a pasuk in Yeshayahu. To me it was a very big chidush (novel insight), because this pasuk is usually brought down in reference to prayer. But “Vayomer Hashem, ya'an ki... (And Hashem said, because)”—“Because this nation...” God is talking to the prophet Yeshayahu and telling him why he's destroying the Beit HaMikdash. Because this nation comes to me; they respect me with their lips and their mouths, but their heart is far away from me. Their fear of God, their fear in God, is just rote and habit. It doesn't just say their activities are rote and habit. Their fear of God—I mean, Rav Wolbe says, we're not talking about, of course, you could kiss the mezuzah (doorpost scroll) without thinking; I understand. But fear of God without thinking? Even your fear of God, even your bitachon, could be without thinking. Therefore, he goes on to say, “I'm going to give them a very wondrous punishment, an extreme punishment. The wisdom of the wise will be lost, and the wisdom of the wise will be hidden.”
The Gemara says about this that it's worse, a double punishment. Besides destroying the Beit HaMikdash, there's a double punishment: it seems there's going to be a lack of rabbis. We have to understand what the midah keneged midah (everything is midah) is. Why is that the punishment? We'll get back to that in a minute. First, let's understand this pasuk. On the simple level, this pasuk is talking about someone going through his religious activity without thinking. The example that the Kaf HaChayim and all the sefarim bring down is making your berachot. Go to the second line, number 21. He's quoting from the Sefer Chassidim. You're washing your hands, making a blessing on fruit. Think for a moment to thank God. “You created wondrous kindness. You gave me the food. You gave me the bread. You gave me the Kind bar. You gave me the Vitamin Water.” Don't do it just as lip service, because that's what Hashem got upset with.
Turn the page. He told Yeshayahu—this line, go to the second line—God tells the prophet Yeshayahu, “Look what my children are doing.” It's only their face; they're just doing it because their father did it. Rav Chatzkel Levenstein, who was that great ba'al emunah (person of faith), woke up one day—I think he was 16 years old. He was putting his tzitzit (ritual fringes) on in the morning. He says, “I'm only putting my tzitzit on because my mother told me to, my father told me.” I'm not doing anything because I'm thinking about anything. They come to my house; they come to shul (synagogue) because their father went to shul. They wash their hands, they say—they say they drink, but everything is on automatic pilot. They're not thinking about me. That's why I'm upset. That's what God says. That's when the Churban (destruction of the Temple) happened. The chidush here is that the Chovot Halevavot is telling us the same thing about bitachon: Hashem doesn't like when we're just on the outside.
And what's the punishment? This is a scary thing that Yerizal says, a beautiful pshat (interpretation). Why does it—everything is midah? Because everyone is doing things externally; there's nothing internal. Therefore, the wisdom of the wise will be lost, and the understanding of the understanding will be hidden. So how is that midah keneged midah? He says, “What do you mean, the wisdom of the wise? If they don't have wisdom, they're not wise. What is the wisdom of the wise?” God's midah keneged midah is that you're living an empty life. These people will also have leaders who really don't have wisdom either. That means they'll have a rabbi who's called a rabbi, but he doesn't have the chochmah (wisdom) of a rabbi. If you live in an external world, you'll be caught up with external people as well. We'll go to the outside world. We won't say within our world. We'll say, “There are these so-called rabbis—rabbis. They're just conservative, Reform. What are they? There's nothing there. It's a title within people.” Why did they get caught up there? Why were they punished? It's a punishment not to be led properly. The answer is because you didn't have anything inside of you. Because you didn't have anything inside of you, the person leading you also doesn't have anything inside of them. That's what ends up happening. The whole Churban happens because people are being superficial and not putting their heart into things.
We live in a generation—this is not my chidush—in which we're external. You know, it's about how you look. In a way, Rav Bloch spoke about this. It's a little harsh, but he told the following story. It's a very, very hard story. A man came to him a few years ago from a religious neighborhood. The neighborhood isn't important. He's complaining that his son is playing basketball. His 16- or 17-year-old son is playing basketball outside in shorts and a T-shirt in a religious neighborhood where that's not acceptable. Imagine whatever neighborhood you want to pick. Everyone is a certain way, and the boy is playing basketball with his kippah (skullcap) on, but he's wearing shorts and a T-shirt, which isn't acceptable in that neighborhood. The man comes to talk to Rav Bloch. No, on a Sunday. No, whatever—he's playing himself, whatever. He's dribbling outside, and it's not the accepted thing to do. It's Bnei Brak, okay? You're walking in Bnei Brak, right by Chaim Kanievsky's house, and you see a boy with a basketball hoop. He's wearing shorts, and his father's a rabbi with a long white beard. So you go to Rav Bloch and say, “I don't know about my son. He's playing basketball.” Rav Bloch, who's a very smart, deep man, says, “Does your son wear tefillin?” The man says, “No, he's not wearing tefillin.” He says, “Let's repeat this one more time. He's not wearing tefillin, and that's not what bothers you. What bothers you is he doesn't look right. He doesn't look right.” He told him various things and said, “You know why your kids are like this? Because you're empty. Because you're just living your life about how I look.”
We don't mean to say that there aren't rules about how you're supposed to look. Of course you're supposed to look a certain way. There are laws of modesty, et cetera, et cetera. But if you just—we get caught up; we're very caught up in the outside. You're this team, you're that thing, you wear that hat, you wear this color fur, you wear that thing, and that's all that decides everything. What's going on inside? Who cares? That's the danger. That's the danger of being born religious. It's the danger of being born religious because you're born into it, so everyone's doing it. If you're not really doing it, it's just external. Rav Bloch said, “You know what? Everyone decides to change what they decide.” So, to him, tefillin and shorts are all the same. They're just something you put on. What's the difference between this and that? Sometimes you're shocked. How could a person do this? Why not? How could a boy text on Shabbat? What is Shabbat? What is it? Did you ever infuse the house with the feeling? What is it? You can't just say, with all these things that we just do and keep doing them. We're not the Amish, just continuing with some ancient thing.
Therefore, that's the danger. The more popular bitachon is, the more popular emunah is, the more it becomes just—so to say—cultural, almost. When did this hit me? I was in Israel. I was still single. We had an Arab janitor who spoke Hebrew. He lived in West Jerusalem; he spoke Hebrew. He said, “Baruch Hashem.” I said, “Oh my gosh.” I said, “What does this Baruch Hashem mean? It means nothing.” It's the same thing. You go into Pomegranate and the Mexicans say, “Shabbat Shalom.” So what does it mean? You automatically say to them, “Same to you.”
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry to be so sobering, but we don't skip anything. This piece, the Chovot Halevavot, is saying that before you continue on your trek to bitachon, every once in a while check if you're being real. You're being real. Again, that's the same thing: everything is being a role model. What your children see—how do they see how you react?
It's interesting, as I'm talking now, it hit me. There's a book, Aleppo: City of Scholars, and in there there's a piece on—his name was Hacham Moshe Ashkar. He was the chazan (cantor) of the community. The chazan of the community. Rabbi David Asher's father's name is Morris Asher, and Morris Asher was named after Hacham Moshe Ashkar. There's a famous picture of him with a tallit (prayer shawl) on, a very dignified-looking man. The story is told in the book that during the Depression he lost everything that he had. He lost everything, and he called his children around the table and said, “It's not about money. I have my family around the table. Everyone's healthy, and that's all that counts.” It just hit me now. That's real emunah. If Rabbi Asher is giving emunah, he got it from someplace. He got it from his father. He got it from his father. Because it's real. It's real emunah. That's what we don't have.
There's always a plus-minus. It's nice to always be religious, but people who are, so to say, new to it—as time goes on, it becomes more and more just labels, and then you don't have to really put anything in. I just put on my Lashon Hara (harmful speech) bumper sticker, so now I don't talk Lashon Hara anymore. I put on my emunah bumper sticker, so I'm a ba'al bitachon, and I also bike for Chai, and whatever else goes on my—whatever else goes on my bumper sticker. It's all good.