Sholom Rubashkin
Sholom RubashkinBentzi Sasson

We usually talk about a leap of faith. Today, I want to discuss a much harder concept: a leap of trust.

The name of the Parshah we read this week is Chukat. There are three types of commandments: (A) Mishpatim, commandments that make sense to us. We would likely have drawn them up ourselves if we were creating a value system. (B) Edut, testimonials. We may not have originated these exact traditions, but they make sense once we learn about them. These include Shabbat and Passover, among others. (C) Chukim, commandments that transcend our understanding. We don’t and can’t understand them.

It has been suggested that all commandments transcend our understanding. It is just that G-d revealed the lowest meaning of some commandments, so we think we understand them. In truth, our knowledge is infinitesimal. The lion’s share of the meaning is beyond us, and we will never understand it. Yet, G-d allows us a modicum, or an illusion, of understanding to excite and motivate us to observe them.

We might think that we donate to charity because it is the proper thing to do to look after people in need. If we only knew the depth and profundity of this Mitzvah, we would see that we understand nothing. We barely scratch the outer layer of the lowest level of this Mitzvah’s meaning.

To ensure that we never grow conceited and think we understand His commandments perfectly, G-d left a few commandments, Chukim, without any explanation whatsoever. This reminds us that G-d’s thinking is infinitely greater than ours, and even when we think we understand, we don’t.

It is said that we must observe the Chukim with the same enthusiasm that we pour into the commandments we think we understand. And we should observe the commandments we think we understand with the same humility as those we don’t and can’t understand.

In other words, even when we think we have G-d or His commandments figured out, we are told to take a breather. We don’t really know anything. It is all a leap of faith. We either embrace this leap, or we don’t. Accepting what we understand and rejecting what we don’t is a fallacy because, in truth, we know nothing.

The Leap of Trust
Just as there are commandments that we can’t understand, so are there events in life that we can’t understand. When things go wrong and a loved one passes away suddenly, or violently, and especially if it is at a young age, we shake our heads and don’t understand. When a missile hits and destroys a home we built, lived in, and loved in for decades, we shake our heads and don’t understand.

When things go well, we don’t shake our heads. We think we understand. When someone is alive and well for many years, it all makes sense to us. When we work hard and earn a living, it makes sense. But when everything comes crashing down around us, it makes little sense.

The truth is that the good successes make as little sense as the harsh tragedies. We don’t know why G-d chooses one person to succeed and another to fail. We don’t understand why some days are filled with glory and others are so gloomy. We think we know, we labor under an illusion of logic, but it is all a mystery of G-d’s inscrutable and enigmatic will.

Just as we are told to take a leap of faith about the commandments, so are we asked to take a leap of trust about life's events. It is easier, however, to take the leap of faith than the leap of trust. The former is a philosophical question; the second hits home.

This is one of the reasons we cover our eyes when we say the Shema. The primary reason is to help us concentrate while proclaiming our faith in G-d. The subtle reason is to declare our faith even when we are in the dark, with no clue as to why things happen. When our eyes are closed and covered, we are shrouded in total darkness. We do not know where the light might be or where to look for it. And even in such circumstances, perhaps specifically in such circumstances, we declare our faith in G-d. We proclaim that we trust Him to lead us to safety.

Rabbi Akiva
The Talmud (Berachot 60b) relates that Rabbi Akiva was traveling with a donkey, a rooster, and a candle. No one offered him lodgings in the town, and he made camp under the open sky, proclaiming that everything G-d does is good. A wind blew out his candle, and he was in the dark. He repeated his mantra that everything G-d does is for the good and settled down. A cat came along and devoured his rooster. Rabbi Akiva repeated his mantra and lay himself to sleep. A lion came and ate his donkey, and he was now left alone. He repeated his mantra and trusted it was for the best.

That night, bandits ransacked every home in the village. Rabbi Akiva was spared because he was not in the village, his light did not give him away, and his dead donkey and rooster couldn’t make noise.

Many wondered why G-d had to save him in a way that cost him everything. Couldn’t G-d preserve his belongings and find him a nice hotel for the night? Of course, G-d could. We don’t know why G-d does what He does. Perhaps, Rabbi Akiva wasn’t fated to die that night but was being tested to see if he trusted in G-d even after losing everything. Or maybe he was destined to die, but was spared because he trusted in G-d after losing everything. Taking that leap of trust doesn’t carry the same punch when we have everything. Perhaps Rabbi Akiva needed that merit to earn the miracle.

Rabbi Rubashkin
Rabbi Sholom Mordechai Rubashkin was sentenced to twenty-seven years in prison for a white-collar crime usually punishable by a single-year sentence at most. He spent eight years in jail while his legal team appealed the sentence. When the highest court in the land rejected his appeal, he was out of hope.

His friends and family thought he would be devastated. For years, he had plowed forward with implicit trust in G-d. Now, there was no hope. They were shocked when he accepted the news with joy. He said that, until now, he had been unable to trust in G-d completely because part of his hope was invested in the court system. Now that the courts left him no hope, he could place all his trust in G-d.

He quoted a teaching from the Baal Shem Tov on the passage, “Throw your trust upon G-d and He will provide for you” (Psalms 55:23). The Baal Shem Tov taught that King David was talking about a circumstance when you have nothing to hang your hope on. You have no vessel for the blessing you seek. Yet, G-d provides not only a blessing but an entirely new channel—a vessel you never anticipated.

Rabbi Rubashkin told his friend that once he exhausted all the channels, it was up to G-d to create a new channel. He trusted G-d much more than the courts. Sure enough, the very next day, the President of the United States commuted his sentence. G-d created a new channel, and Rabbi Rubashkin was free to go.

Why did G-d have to wait so long? Could G-d not arrange a commutation a little earlier? Perhaps, like Rabbi Akiva, Rabbi Rubashkin needed to pass this final test and take the highest leap of trust for salvation to arrive.

May we never be tested this way, but we may we always stand ready to take that leap of trust.