The noise of the world has become relentless. Whether we look at our screens or look out our windows, it feels as though the world has turned completely upside down. We see terrifying social breakdowns, rising global upheaval, and a deep, frightening shattering of our daily safety.
In times like these, it is completely natural for a Jewish soul to feel anxious, and deeply burned out.
Many of us, especially those who have made the beautiful journey as a Baal Teshuva to return to our source, and found a sanctuary of warmth and absolute truth in the observant world. The pure, euforic discovering of Torah lifestyle can carry a person through the first few years.
But as time passes, the relentless grind of reality sets in. The complex details of daily Halacha, the financial pressures, and the unspoken weight of communal expectations can begin to feel like an exhausting set of restrictions rather than a protective fortress. When the world outside is screaming with chaos, an invisible religious burnout can take hold. The life before, which they used to know so well, suddenly starts to feel much more comfortable and inviting than the heavy demands of a Torah lifestyle.
When a soul is crushed by this exhaustion, the human instinct is to find a way to escape the guilt. Today, we see this playing out on social media. Beautiful, sincere influencers open their cameras and tell thousands of followers: "The Written Torah is pure,.. but the Rabbis and the Orthodox community have corrupted it with man-made rules. From now on, I am only focusing on the mitzvos of the Written Torah, blaming the community and the Rabbinic structure for their internal distress. But fear, anxiety, and burnout do not disappear by finding a scapegoat.
To my fellow Jews who are listening to these voices and feeling strengthened by the idea that it is okay to push the Oral Torah aside: we must understand that this is a historical trap. Consider the Mitzvah of Shabbos. The Written Torah commands us to keep it holy and to rest. But without the Oral Torah handed down to us at Har Sinai, and through the generations, how do we actually perform the Mitzvah? How do we define forbidden labor? The Written Torah tells us what to do, but the Oral Torah tells us how to do it. They are completely inseparable.
When we decide to keep only the parts of the Torah that make sense to our current emotional state, we are no longer serving HaShem.
The solution to our exhaustion is not blaming a community, and it is definitely not pushing the Oral Torah to one side, chas v'shalom. The true answer is to take that heavy, overwhelming pressure and channel it: through Hitbodedus, talking to HaShem in our own language, using our own words.
We need to take our fears, our troubles, our confusion, and our anxiety, and place them into HaShem's hands. We can cry to Him about how hard it is. We can tell Him about the weight we carry. That personal connection is where the pressure fades away.
Through the Storm: Finding Emunah is Placing Our Fears in HaShem’s Hands
It is very easy to believe we "have" Emunah when times are good, when our lives are comfortable, and when the world around us feels more stable. But when the ground beneath us shakes, we are forced to realize that passive, comfortable faith is not enough. In the dark, we often discover that the faith we thought we possessed was just comfort in disguise.
True stability does not come from rewriting the Torah to fit our exhaustion or running away when the storm rages. True stability comes from knowing that everything happening around us, no matter how chaotic or frightening, is part of HaShem’s Divine Plan.
We do not have to carry the weight of a broken world on our shoulders; we just have to serve HaShem with all of our soul, all of our heart, and with all of written and Oral Torah. When our souls are in an active journey of finding Emunah, uncovering it day after day through personal davening, the anxiety fades. Trusting HaShem completely transforms the restrictions of a Torah life from a burden into the ultimate shield, keeping our souls steady even when the world turns upside down.