Intellectual and Emotional Faith/ Parashat Va'etchanan
B”SD
In Parashat Va'etchanan, we read once again about the Revelation at Mount Sinai and the Ten Commandments, which begin with the words:
"I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage."
Is this opening declaration also a commandment, like the other nine?
Maimonides answers this question in his Mishneh Torah:
"The foundation of all foundations and the pillar of all wisdom is to know that there exists a First Being, who brought every existing thing into existence. Everything in heaven and on earth exists only because of the truth of His existence... The knowledge of this matter is a positive commandment, as it is said, 'I am the Lord your God.'"
(Hilchot Yesodei HaTorah, Chapter 1)
Significantly, Maimonides speaks of knowledge, not merely belief. This knowledge forms the very foundation of faith, and acquiring it is a positive commandment incumbent upon every Jew—not only great scholars or rabbis. Every individual is obligated to know that the Creator exists, and genuine knowledge requires study and reflection.
At first glance, however, faith would seem to be primarily an emotion. Often a person cannot explain why he trusts one individual but not another, or why he feels secure in one situation but anxious in another. Like all emotions, faith can be subtle, fluctuating, and difficult to define.
The Chazon Ish, in his classic work Emunah U'Bitachon, describes faith as an emotional quality:
"Faith is a delicate inclination arising from the refinement of the soul."
If faith is fundamentally emotional, how can it be taught or cultivated?
The Book of Deuteronomy is filled with foundational teachings of faith, all intended to strengthen our conviction in the truth of the Revelation at Mount Sinai and the commandments that were given there. At Sinai, the Jewish people experienced with their own senses the reality of God, the Divine origin of the Torah, reward and punishment, and the authenticity of Moshe Rabbeinu's prophecy.
In Parashat Va'etchanan, the Torah provides a remarkable argument that remains relevant even in the distant future. Moses tells the people to examine all of human history and ask whether there has ever been another event comparable to Sinai—a nation standing together and hearing the Creator speak directly to them, preserving that testimony faithfully from generation to generation until the present day:
"When you are in distress... return to the Lord your God... Ask now about the former days, from the day God created man upon the earth... Has anything as great as this ever happened? Has anything like it ever been heard? Has any people ever heard the voice of God speaking from the midst of the fire, as you have heard, and lived?"
(Deuteronomy 4)
One might wonder why no other religion ever claimed such a national revelation in its own history. After all, if religions are created by human beings, why not invent a story of an entire nation witnessing Divine revelation?
The answer is straightforward: such an event cannot simply be inserted into a nation's historical memory if it never occurred.
Any people presented with the claim that all of their ancestors had once witnessed an overwhelming prophetic revelation—and had been commanded to transmit that experience faithfully to every subsequent generation—would naturally respond: "If this truly happened to our entire nation, why have we never heard of it from our parents and grandparents?"
Only a nation that genuinely experienced such an event could preserve its memory through an unbroken chain of tradition. The Jewish people stand alone in possessing precisely such a national testimony. (This argument is developed extensively by Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi in The Kuzari and by many later Jewish thinkers.)
Throughout history, countless Jews willingly gave their lives rather than deny the faith of their ancestors. They did so because they were absolutely convinced that their parents and teachers would never transmit a falsehood as sacred tradition. They trusted that each generation faithfully preserved what it had received from the generation before.
The extraordinary care with which the Jewish people transmitted the Torah is illustrated by a remarkable fact. Torah scrolls copied independently for centuries in Jewish communities scattered across the world were eventually compared after the return to the Land of Israel. Between the Ashkenazic and Sephardic traditions, only a single spelling difference was found—"dakah" versus "daka"—out of the Torah's 304,805 letters.
King David expresses this principle beautifully in Psalms:
"The beginning of Your word is truth, and all Your righteous judgments endure forever."
(Psalms 119:160)
When the very beginning of God's revelation to His people—the Revelation at Mount Sinai—is established as undeniable truth, then the eternal justice and authority of the Torah naturally follow.
Faith is indeed rooted in the heart, but it must rest upon the firm foundation of understanding and knowledge.
As the Torah itself teaches:
"Know this day"—with your mind
"and take it to your heart"—with your emotions
"that the Lord alone is God." (Deuteronomy 4:39)
Only when intellectual conviction and emotional commitment work together does faith become complete.
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