Ben-Gurion once asked the Chazon Ish:
“I have come to speak with you about one matter: How are religious and nonreligious Jews to live together in this land without exploding from within? Jews are arriving here by the hundreds and thousands, from many countries, from different cultures and with different worldviews. The state faces an external threat; the Arabs seek to destroy us, and we must make the most of everything the different parts of our people have in common. But there is a fundamental problem: these are Jews and those are Jews. How are they to live together?”
The Chazon Ish replied with a parable:
“If two camels meet on a narrow path, one carrying a load and the other unburdened, the unburdened camel must give way to the one carrying a load. We religious Jews are like the loaded camel: we bear the yoke of a great many mitzvos. You must give way to us.”
Ben-Gurion objected indignantly:
“Is settling the Land not a mitzvah? Is that not a burden? Is defending life not a mitzvah? And what of those young men whom you so strongly oppose, who sit on the borders and guard you—is that not a mitzvah?”
The Chazon Ish replied: “If Hashem does not guard the city, the watchman keeps vigil in vain.” (Tehillim 127:1)[1]
These are difficult days for all our dear brethren who tremble at the word of Hashem. The exemption that prevailed for yeshiva students from the founding of the state until now has been abolished. The need for additional soldiers has become acute, and the country is determined that Charedim, too, must shoulder the burden of military service.
Since the blanket exemption was struck down, the army has issued tens of thousands of draft orders to yeshiva students. Since the overwhelming majority have not reported for induction, tens of thousands have been classified as draft evaders; many thousands have been issued arrest warrants and exit bans. Hundreds of yeshiva students have been arrested and taken to military prison. At the same time, there has been a significant wave of enlistment in the various IDF tracks designed for Charedim.
Among yeshiva students and avreichim, attitudes vary. Many favor absolute obedience to the instruction of most rabbis not to enlist at all—and are prepared to pay the civic and moral price that such obedience entails. Others likewise do not report for enlistment, but do so with an uneasy heart; they struggle with the personal and economic costs of becoming draft evaders. Still others do not enlist, yet refuse to evade the moral obligation to take part in the defense of the land.
Some ultimately choose to enlist, paying the social and personal price of acting against the position of most rabbis and most of their community. Some do so with a heavy heart; others wholeheartedly and with joy.
In this essay, I will not address the halachic question of participating in war, nor the hashkafic question of enlisting in an army that does not conduct itself according to the path of Torah. Both are weighty matters deserving separate consideration.
Instead, I wish to examine military participation as a movement of the religious soul: What posture should a person of faith adopt toward the battles of life? This, I believe, is the deeper question that the present crisis places before us.
The Charedi world has learned much from the spiritual posture of King Chizkiyahu: to trust absolutely in Hashem, to cast the earthly burden upon Him, and to devote ourselves to the realm of Torah and spirit. We leave the war against our enemies largely in Hashem’s hands; to a considerable degree, we cast the burden of livelihood upon Him as well.
The Charedi world has learned much from the spiritual posture of King Chizkiyahu: to trust absolutely in Hashem, to cast the earthly burden upon Him, and to devote ourselves to the realm of Torah and spirit. We leave the war against our enemies largely in Hashem’s hands; to a considerable degree, we cast the burden of livelihood upon Him as well. This movement of faith finds expression in the Chazon Ish’s words to Ben-Gurion concerning the army: “If Hashem does not guard the city, the watchman keeps vigil in vain.”[2]
Yet Chazal did not refrain from criticizing Chizkiyahu.
Their criticism, as we shall see, revolves around three points. First, the highest bitachon (trust in Hashem) is not necessarily passive: David fights, and precisely through his action experiences Hashem’s power. Second, redemption requires song—the capacity to create, to respond to life with movement and wonder rather than merely endure it. Third, faith means doing what Hashem asks of us now while surrendering the hidden future to Him.
Together, these three teachings suggest a different conception of bitachon: not withdrawal from human agency, but acting courageously within it; not controlling the future, but entrusting it to Hashem; not fleeing the uncertainty of life, but learning to make music within it.
Chizkiyahu was among the greatest and most righteous of kings, and extraordinary miracles were performed for him and his kingdom. Yet, in a certain sense, the opposite of redemption unfolded in his days: the Kingdom of Israel and its Ten Tribes went into exile, while Chizkiyahu himself was informed of the future destruction of the Temple and the fall of the Kingdom of Yehudah to Babylon, events that would take place roughly a century after his death.[3]
Which King Possessed the Greatest Bitachon?
Chizkiyahu, king of Yehudah, was among the most righteous of all the kings.[4] He walked in the ways of King David,[5] and brought about a spiritual revolution throughout his kingdom. He purified the Beit HaMikdash of the idolatry introduced there by his father Achaz,[6] and celebrated Pesach in Jerusalem with a vast multitude, in a manner unparalleled since the days of David and Shlomo.[7] He likewise removed the high places and monuments from all the cities of Yehudah.[8]
In the fourteenth year of his reign, Sanheriv, king of Assyria, invaded and laid siege to the Kingdom of Yehudah. He captured its fortified cities and threatened to advance upon Jerusalem. The fear he inspired was immense.[9]
Chizkiyahu did take a number of tactical defensive measures, including stopping the water sources outside the city and strengthening its walls,[10] but he placed his principal reliance upon Hashem.[11] And indeed, salvation came miraculously: 185,000 of Sanheriv’s princes and warriors were struck down by an angel of Hashem, while Sanheriv himself ultimately met his death in his mighty capital, Nineveh, at the hands of two of his own sons.[12]
At first glance, Chizkiyahu’s approach to war appears to be the highest and most faith-filled ideal: prayer to Hashem, King of all the earth.
- Moti Leitner: Towards a More Jewish Representation
- Prof. Moshe Koppel: The Hopes Of a Younger Generation
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- When Prayer Becomes Performance: Selichot, Music, and the Theology of Experience
- The Voice That Would Not Be Silenced: Kol Nidrei, Halacha, and Jewish Memory
Yet the Midrash presents matters differently. It describes four kings, each embodying a distinct approach to war, and Hashem responds to each according to his way. In doing so, the Midrash overturns our familiar paradigm of bitachon and hishtadlus. Precisely the most active king, the one who goes out and fights his wars, emerges as the one with the greatest bitachon.
The Midrash teaches:
There were four kings, and what one asked, another did not ask. They were David, Asa, Yehoshafat, and Chizkiyahu.
David said: “I will pursue my enemies and overtake them.” The Holy One, blessed be He, said to him: “I will do so.” Thus it is written: “And David struck them from twilight until the evening of the following day”… Two nights and one day; the Holy One, blessed be He, illuminated the nights for him with flashes and lightning, as it is written: “For You light my lamp…”
Then Asa arose and said: “I do not have the strength to kill them. I will pursue them, and You will do it.” He said to him: “I will do it.”
Then Yehoshafat arose and said: “I have the strength neither to kill nor to pursue. I will sing, and You will do it.” The Holy One, blessed be He, said: “I will do it,” as it is written: “And when they began with song and praise, Hashem set ambushes against the children of Ammon, Moav, and Mount Seir who had come against Yehudah, and they were struck down.”
Then Chizkiyahu arose and said: “I have the strength neither to kill, nor to pursue, nor even to sing. I will sleep upon my bed, and You will do it.” The Holy One, blessed be He, said: “I will do it,” as it is written: “And it came to pass that night that the angel of Hashem went out and struck the camp of Assyria.”[13]
The implication is striking. It is precisely King David, fighting through successive nights, who is presented as possessing the greatest bitachon. Each of the kings who follows him descends a degree, until we reach the lowest level—which itself remains exceedingly lofty—of Chizkiyahu, who asks to “sleep upon his bed” while the Holy One fights his enemies for him.[14]
This runs directly counter to an instinctive conception of faith: that the more deeply we trust Hashem, the less we ourselves should act. The Midrash suggests the reverse.
David’s bitachon is not diminished by his sword. His sword is itself an expression of bitachon. He goes out to fight because he experiences his own agency not as a rival to Divine action, but as its instrument.
This distinction will become central to everything that follows.
The Fate of Chizkiyahu
The prophet Yeshayahu foretells the birth of a future savior of Israel:
For a child has been born to us, a son has been given to us, and dominion rests upon his shoulder. And his name shall be called Pele Yoetz, El Gibbor, Avi Ad, Sar Shalom. Of the increase of his dominion and of peace there shall be no end, upon the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and sustain it with justice and righteousness, from now and forever.[15]
Who, then, was this mighty savior to be? And why is the letter mem in the middle of the word lemarbeh written as a closed mem?
The Gemara tells us that Chizkiyahu was destined to become the Mashiach—the “Pele Yoetz, El Gibbor” of the verse—but that this possibility was not realized:
The Holy One, blessed be He, sought to make Chizkiyahu Mashiach and Sanheriv Gog and Magog. The Attribute of Justice said before the Holy One, blessed be He: “Master of the Universe! David, king of Israel, recited so many songs and praises before You, yet You did not make him Mashiach. Chizkiyahu, for whom You performed all these miracles and who did not sing before You—will You make him Mashiach?!”[16]
If, after all these miracles, Chizkiyahu still “has no strength to sing,” he cannot become Mashiach.
Only after Chizkiyahu fell ill and recovered did the spirit of song awaken within him. He composed a hymn filled with spirit, ending with the words: “Hashem is ready to save me; therefore we will play my songs upon stringed instruments all the days of our lives in the House of Hashem.”
Only after Chizkiyahu fell ill and recovered did the spirit of song awaken within him. He composed a hymn filled with spirit, ending with the words: “Hashem is ready to save me; therefore we will play my songs upon stringed instruments all the days of our lives in the House of Hashem.”[17]
After Sanheriv’s downfall, Chizkiyahu falls ill. The Gemara records a remarkable exchange between the prophet Yeshayahu and the king:
Yeshayahu son of Amotz the prophet came to him and said: “Thus says Hashem… You shall die and not live…”
Chizkiyahu said to him: “What is all this?”
Yeshayahu replied: “Because you did not engage in procreation.”
Chizkiyahu said: “Because it was revealed to me through ruach hakodesh that unworthy children would issue from me.”
Yeshayahu said to him: “Why do you concern yourself with the hidden counsels of the Merciful One? What you are commanded to do, you must do; and what is pleasing before the Holy One, blessed be He—let Him do…”[18]
In the end, Chizkiyahu prays to Hashem and repents, and the bitterness of death is removed from him. In time, a son is indeed born to him who will perpetrate horrifying acts in Jerusalem: King Menashe.
But we must pause over the extraordinary exchange between Chizkiyahu and Yeshayahu.
The prophet tells Chizkiyahu that a decree has been issued against him because he did not bring children into the world. Chizkiyahu responds that he refrained because ruach hakodesh had revealed that his future son would be wicked.
Yeshayahu’s answer is a powerful teaching our Sages made into a guide for life: Do what you are commanded to do. The hidden things are not your concern.
Hidden Things: Hashem Dwells Within Our Hearts
The three teachings of Chazal concerning Chizkiyahu illuminate three aspects of the same spiritual problem.
The first concerns action.
“I have the strength neither to kill, nor to pursue, nor to sing. I will sleep upon my bed, and You will do it,” says King Chizkiyahu.
We, too, are often drawn toward this posture. We do not know how to confront the existential problems of the Jewish people, and we do not know how to reconcile those problems with the way of Torah. We therefore ask Hashem, as it were, to resolve the matter in our absence.
We, too, are often drawn toward this posture. We do not know how to confront the existential problems of the Jewish people, and we do not know how to reconcile those problems with the way of Torah. We therefore ask Hashem, as it were, to resolve the matter in our absence.
But this is not the path of King David, father of the kings and “the fourth leg of the Divine Chariot.”[19]
David experiences the spirit of Hashem in the world with overwhelming intensity. When a person experiences the Divine Presence so powerfully, he does not become smaller. He becomes greater. He understands that the Holy One reveals His greatness in the world through human beings; that the wars of Israel are the wars of Hashem Himself; and that Hashem gives a person the strength both to fight and to prevail. So the sacred works teach concerning the verse, “And I know that Hashem is great.”[20]
R’ Tzadok HaKohen of Lublin goes so far as to write:
“And I” refers to the final middah,[21] for Hashem dwells literally within the hearts of the children of Israel, to the point that a prophet may say with his own mouth, “I am Hashem,” for his very heart is the dwelling place of His glory.[22]
It was this spirit that moved David to take a stone and sling and advance fearlessly against the Philistine giant. It was the same spirit that enabled him to accomplish the seemingly impossible and unite all Israel beneath his banner; the same spirit that carried him into battle against all his enemies and enabled him to subdue them.
David does not choose between trust in Hashem and human action. He acts because he trusts.
“And He Did Not Sing Songs and Praises” — Mashiach Is Born from Melody
The second teaching concerns song.
Chizkiyahu did not become Mashiach because he did not sing. Song and music are forms of creation.
In poetry, a person rises above the immediate surface of events and learns to discern the thread running through them. Through the richness of language, he becomes exposed to the Divine radiance dwelling within every phenomenon.
Music works in a similar way. It is the embodied experience that completes the intellectual and verbal inspiration of poetry. Melodies emerge through play, through something seemingly accidental—a creativity that lies beyond the rational mind. The harmony created when disparate notes come together opens a window onto the infinity concealed within creation. It raises us into chambers of delight, joy, and the inspiration of the Shechinah.
David understood that music must occupy a central place in the service of Hashem. He established the songs and psalms, and the watches of musicians, in the Beit HaMikdash.
Redemption must emerge from music. Mashiach must know how to sing. But knowing how to make music of life is a movement of the soul, not merely a physical act. It means living in motion, within the play of creation, rather than relating to life solely as a set of facts determined in advance.
Redemption must emerge from music. Mashiach must know how to sing. But knowing how to make music of life is a movement of the soul, not merely a physical act. It means living in motion, within the play of creation, rather than relating to life solely as a set of facts determined in advance.
For one who trembles at the word of Hashem, this can be difficult. Religious life trains us, properly, to heed a Divine command that precedes us. Yet this can also create a fear of movement: if the way is already prescribed, every unanticipated turn may feel like error.
But Hashem also wants us to make music. He wants us to sing. He wants us to fall and rise. He wants us to be surprised. He wants us to surprise Him.
He wants us not to know what will happen—and then, when salvation arrives, to be filled with an overflowing joy.
Whenever we do not know, we are invited into encounter: to discover His presence not only in what was planned, but in what unfolds.
Knowing What Hashem Wants, Not What Will Be
The third teaching concerns the future.
As we saw, when Chizkiyahu tells Yeshayahu that he refrained from having children because unworthy sons were destined to issue from him, Yeshayahu answers:
“Why do you concern yourself with the hidden counsels of the Merciful One? What you are commanded to do, you must do; and what is pleasing before the Holy One, blessed be He—let Him do…”
This teaching echoes the message of the Torah’s passage concerning prophecy in Devarim:
“‘You shall be wholehearted with Hashem your God’—walk with Him wholeheartedly, and place your hope in Him. Do not inquire into the future. Rather, whatever comes upon you, accept it wholeheartedly; then you will be with Him and of His portion.” (Rashi)[23]
One might nevertheless understand from this passage that if one somehow knew with certainty what the future held, one would be entitled to act on that knowledge. Here Yeshayahu teaches something more radical.
Even if the future itself has been revealed to you, you must choose to leave the future to Hashem—to the kivshei de-Rachmana, the hidden counsels of the Merciful One—and act according to Hashem’s command here and now, each step in its own time.[24]
Though I am not worthy to offer rebuke, these words of the Sages compel me to raise a profound question concerning our holy and beloved community, for whom emunah and bitachon are a lamp unto its feet.
In many areas, we nevertheless choose to conduct ourselves based on elaborate calculations about what might happen. This is especially common in matters of education, shidduchim, and our political outlook.
I will offer one personal example that may illuminate the larger point.
During my years in shidduchim, many people rebuked me for the way I conducted myself and warned that it would damage my prospects of finding a good match. The criticism was not directed at wrongdoing. It concerned things I did because I understood them to be Hashem’s will and part of my own avodas Hashem—for example, placing tekhelet on my tzitzis and making a determined effort to speak truthfully.
Needless to say, though my time in shidduchim was not short, it ended in the best possible way—and, as is Hashem’s way, through wondrous turns of events. My incomparable wife chose me precisely because of these qualities. Had I attempted to follow the path others advised, then by the ordinary workings of the world I might well have missed this precious woman entirely.
And so it is in every area of life.
In matters that belong to kelipat nogah—that is, matters of discretion that are neither mitzvah nor transgression—we are entitled to exercise judgment, anticipate likely consequences, and act accordingly.[25]
But when a mitzvah stands before us, our task is first to understand what Hashem commands us to do. We are not to calculate every conceivable future consequence until the obligation of the present disappears beneath them. Even if we were granted literal ruach hakodesh and shown that the mitzvah would eventually yield rotten fruit, we would still be obligated to perform Hashem’s command, just as Yeshayahu told Chizkiyahu.
What will be is hidden from us. It belongs to Hashem alone, the One who turns all causes toward their end, who revealed Himself to us by the Name “I Will Be What I Will Be”—the Name that points toward what is yet to unfold.[26]
This, then, is the third dimension of bitachon: not knowing what will happen, but knowing what fidelity requires of us now.
What the Present Crisis Asks of Us
We have a received principle: when distress befalls an individual or a community, it is Hashem’s way of calling us to return to Him.
The pressure surrounding Charedi military enlistment—arising both from the public and the law, and from the security reality itself, bitachon in more than one sense—is therefore not merely a dispute between Charedim and secular Israelis.
It is also a matter between ourselves and the Holy One, blessed be He.
It demands that we examine our own ways.
The principal consideration guiding much of Charedi society on this question is fear: fear that our children will be drawn into a foreign culture; that they will lose the precious pearls of holiness, morality, and righteousness; that they will cease to learn Torah deeply and with devotion.
And this fear is not imaginary.
These are genuine treasures. We must cherish them with all our might and never cast them casually aside.
But the teachings about Chizkiyahu ask us whether fear of what may happen in the future has begun to define our religious posture in the present.
Are we placing our trust in Hashem by acting faithfully—or are we calling passivity bitachon?
Are we protecting Torah—or have we become so afraid of the uncertainty inherent in life that we no longer know how to sing?
Are we protecting Torah—or have we become so afraid of the uncertainty inherent in life that we no longer know how to sing?
Are we asking what Hashem requires from us now—or attempting to secure every future outcome before we are willing to move?
For all the good that our community possesses, we must remember one sobering fact: We have not yet succeeded in bringing Mashiach.
Perhaps this is precisely why Chazal preserve their critique of so righteous a king as Chizkiyahu. His path was lofty. Miracles attended it. Yet it was not sufficient for redemption.
The hour therefore demands a deep clarification of our emunah and bitachon.
Do we wish to enter the Beit Midrash of David—to know that Hashem dwells within our hearts, and that so long as we act in holiness and righteousness according to Torah, we can move forward with confidence in His salvation?
Can we emerge from rigidity and learn to live within the wondrous play of creativity?
Can we sing the song of life and make music of it, rather than merely endure it?
Can we fulfill with simplicity and courage what Torah asks of us in the present, while leaving the hidden future to Hashem—even when we fear deeply for the spiritual future of our children?
These are not three separate questions. They are three aspects of one form of faith:
to act because Hashem is with us;
to sing because His world remains open and alive;
and to obey because the future belongs to Him.
These are the ways of life that Chazal urge us to recover.
And perhaps through them, we may yet bring Mashiach.
[1] Transcript of an interview given by Yitzhak Navon to journalist Boaz Evron on January 21, 1981, concerning David Ben-Gurion’s meeting with Rabbi Avraham Yeshayahu Karelitz, Israel State Archives, file: President Yitzhak Navon – Meetings.
[2] Although in his book Emunah U’Bitachon he appears, at least ostensibly, to contradict this conception. See R. Reuven Leuchter’s article in Tzarich Iyun, “Trust in Hashem: Listening to Reality.”
[3] Yeshayahu, Chapter 39.
[4] Rashi, Yevamot 63a: “Chizkiyahu, Asa, and Yehoshafat, who were perfectly righteous.”
[5] II Divrei HaYamim 29:2.
[6] Ibid., the entire chapter.
[7] Ibid., Chapter 30.
[8] Ibid. 31:1.
[9] II Melachim 18.
[10] II Divrei HaYamim 32:4–5.
[11] Ibid., v. 20; II Melachim 19:15.
[12] Ibid., vv. 35–37; II Divrei HaYamim 32:21.
[13] Eicha Rabbah, Introduction 30. My thanks to Rabbi Aryeh Meir for drawing my attention to this Midrash in the context of different levels of emunah and bitachon
[14] This meaning emerges both from the comparison of all the kings to David—who united the entire Jewish people under his rule, defeated all his surrounding enemies, and merited an everlasting kingship for himself and his descendants—and from the phrase “I do not have the strength,” which is used by each of the three kings who follow him.
The Radal cites a remarkable interpretation in the name of R. Hillel of Shklov, grounding the Midrash in the biblical verses: “This is what is written there in Divrei HaYamim: ‘Help us, for we have no strength.’ Concerning Yehoshafat it is written: ‘For we have no strength’; and concerning Chizkiyahu: ‘There is no strength to give birth.’”
[15] 9:5–6.
[16] Sanhedrin 94a.
[17] Yeshayahu 38:20. The connection between the Midrash cited above and Chizkiyahu’s “writing” of song follows Yalkut Shimoni, II Melachim, remez 243.
[18] Berachot 10a, freely translated.
[19] Zohar, Va’etchanan 262b.
[20] Tehillim 135:5.
[21] Resisei Lailah, sec. 20.
[22] That is, the attribute of Malchut
[23] Devarim 18:13.
[24] As an aside, this insight sheds considerable light on the Torah’s passage concerning prophecy. The Torah instructs us not to seek knowledge of the future from soothsayers, diviners, sorcerers, or necromancers, but rather to turn to a prophet. At first glance, one might understand that there is no essential difference between the prophet and other foretellers of the future, except that the former speaks in Hashem’s name whereas the latter do not—or, according to the Rambam, that the claims of the latter are simply false. But this is deeply puzzling: Is a prophet merely a kind of sorcerer with rabbinic certification?
In light of the above, the prophet’s role is fundamentally different. The diviner tells a person what he wants to know, so that he can act according to his own calculations; the prophet tells a person what Hashem wants him to know, so that he can act as Hashem desires. This is why consulting a prophet is called “seeking Hashem” (I Melachim 22:7). A striking example is Shaul, who comes to the seer looking for lost donkeys, only for the seer to answer him with the news of kingship.
This, then, explains Chizkiyahu’s punishment. The Holy One did not release him from the obligation of “be fruitful and multiply”; He merely revealed to him the future of his children, for another reason known only to Him—perhaps so that Chizkiyahu would pray to annul the decree, or take extraordinary care in their education.
[25] David acted in this way, for example, when he left Chushai the Archite in Jerusalem to frustrate Avshalom’s rebellion (II Shmuel 15), and on other occasions.
[26] Shemot 3:14, and Rashbam ad loc.
THANK YOU for this.