Haftarah Yirmiyahu 2:4–28
Yirmiyahu understood that Hashem’s invisibility made reaching out to Him difficult, and a generation of spiritual seekers was frustrated. Yirmiyahu knew that the path to healing was making them aware of His tangible presence and contrasting it with the idols, who were mere fantasy figures that did not even return the material value invested in forming them. The exodus from Egypt was undeniable. They knew that they had been there and “somehow” then found themselves in Eretz Yisrael.
Yirmiyahu compared Hashem, Who carried them throughout their entire history, with the gods of the kitties and keddarites, who carried their gods with them. He also spoke to the hearts of the masses, whose idol worship was less overt, people who didn’t worship gods of clay or wood but believed in “realpolitik.” He warned them that they could not control their fate by relying on trusted allies; that the very same nations in whom they placed their trust would betray them (as has happened so many times in later history).
[me: Will it happen again in our time?]
Orchos Tzaddikim (Shaar Hasimcha) tell you that the problem they had is very much akin to a problem that we all have. Hashem is invisible, your eyes don’t access Him, which makes living with His presence difficult. Yet your heart knows what your mind doesn’t know. Go back to the times in your life when you found yourself saying silently, “Hashem, just let him live,” or “Hashem, don’t let me make a mistake,” when the mistake would be irreparable. At moments like those you know Hashem is there with absolute certainty. Later, His invisibility may let the faith you had somehow fade.
What can you say to yourself to avoid the contemporary versions of idol worship – which Rambam describes on reliance on any force (financial, military, etc.) other than Hashem? You have no desire to worship the man made figurines that are mass-produced in China. Does that mean that you are really open to trusting Hashem exclusively? Most of us say “of course,” but let me share a conversation I overheard just days before the outbreak of the Six Day War that showed me how fragile faith can be when confronting tangible reality.
I was walking down the street in front of Batei Avot, the Bais Yaakov dorm on Rechov Harav Dessler. One of the most respected teachers in our seminary was deep in conversation with its principal, Rav Wolf, zt”l. The Arab armies surrounding Israel outnumbered and outgunned the Israeli forces. Mass graves were being prepared. “We have no one to depend on except the Americans. They’s better come through,” he said. The Rav didn’t miss a beat, “The Americans? What about the Creator?”
Neither of them saw me. When the teacher spoke, I was with him. When the Rav answered I was honest enough to know that my faith was nowhere near as absolute as his was.
Yirmiyahu reminded his people of the countless miracles they had experienced.
When was the last time you did the same? How often have you caught yourself in the opposite mode, speaking lashon hara against Hashem because He did not let you see the end of the story while it was still in progress? There are no doubt times of desperation, confusion and even despair in our lives. Bitachon, and its primary manifestation, inner tranquility, is yours if you are willing to disempower the “bad guys” in your life and see Hashem’s goodness as real as you see them.
When the spies spoke against the possibility of conquering the Land, it was not the Land with whom they had an issue, it was with the invisible One who commanded them to conquer a land that seemed to them to be unconquerable. The timing was not coincidental. They left in Tammuz, and Tisha B’Av found the people in tears, tears that showed the lack of faith that we still contend with today.
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The above was written by Rebbetzin Tziporah Heller on the Haftarah Yirmiyahu 2:4–28
as it appeared in Hamodia’s INYAN Magazine. Tziporahheller.com
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