Our spiritual lives do not always move in a straight line. Many times, we find ourselves going through spiritual descents, difficulties, and states of instability. In Parshas Mishpatim, with all the laws and statutes that Hashem gives the People of Israel, there is a hidden opportunity to understand the deeper meaning of remaining committed to Emunah (faith) and Torah even when falls come. We must know that every descent—even when it is challenging—is part of a process of spiritual growth, and we can rise from it and flourish. In this article by Rabbi Menachem Azulai shlit"a, we will examine how we can maintain spiritual stability even in difficult times, and insist on staying connected to Emunah despite everything.

Rabbi Eliezer says: If there is judgment below, there is no judgment above; and if there is no judgment below, there is judgment above. How so? If the Children of Israel carry out justice below, then the Attribute of Judgment is not activated above. Therefore the Holy One, blessed be He, said: Guard the laws, so that you will not cause Me to execute judgment from above, as it is said: “And these are the laws…” (Midrash Tanchuma 5)

Morning Torah, Evening Torah

Only a week ago, in Parshas Yisro, we concluded with the exalted event of Matan Torah (the Giving of the Torah)—the greatest and most awe-inspiring revelation that ever took place in this world. Everything is so festive and beautiful, filled with majestic splendor.

But this week, in Parshas Mishpatim, it is already less festive: a Hebrew slave, a Hebrew maidservant, one who strikes his father or mother, one who curses his father or mother, a thief, one who strikes a man and he dies—hard matters. A person cannot remain constantly in the exalted state of Matan Torah. That is called an overwhelming abundance of light. Parshas Mishpatim protects us from an overwhelming abundance of light.

We must bring the holy Torah into the matters of the home, business dealings, interpersonal relationships, the war with the yetzer hara (evil inclination), into life itself. This is the greatness of the Torah: it lifts us higher and higher—every Jew indeed has periods of elevation—and it is with us even when we are down, down, at the foot of the mountain.

“At that first moment when Israel heard the laws—what they are and what they are about—they were like one who hears thunder in the clearest sky, like one whose feet have already stepped into the heavens, and suddenly the gates of Heaven open beneath him and he falls and descends to the lowest abyss, as though his world went dark at midday. And nevertheless, this is the Torah of man. It is man’s lowliness, for the Torah testifies about him that he is capable of descending to the depths of Sheol (the abyss) even after he has ascended to the heavens. And it is also man’s greatness, for the Torah accompanies him everywhere and comes with him in all his descents; and once he swore to it an oath of loyalty one time, with all his strength, it no longer lets go of him, and it digs for him pathways of teshuvah (return) and repair. And even if he himself lowers himself to Sheol—He will raise him up! Morning Torah and evening Torah are bound together; they descended together to Israel.” (Sefer HaParshiyos)

Just don’t despair. Even when we are in “evening Torah,” we are still within a framework. There are halachos (Torah laws), there are poskim (halachic decisors). And even when we are in the deepest darkness—when even poskim cannot help us, when everything is closed, everything is dark—precisely there, Hashem is with us.

In the darkness, in the “empty space” (chalal hapanui—where Hashem’s presence is hidden), inside troubles, inside suffering: when we do not lose hope, when we lift our head, when we guard Emunah even there, we can receive the greatest light.

In those hard times, when you strain not to lose the connection, Hashem takes special pride in you.

Most people spend most of their time in the “empty space.” Why? Because even when they make blessings or pray, they do not exactly feel Hashem. When you don’t feel Hashem, that is called the “empty space.” Hashem, so to speak, moves Himself to the sides and tells us: Look for Me.

This entire world is a hidden world. We are connected to Hashem, and we get confused and forget, and then we return to connection again. We don’t see Hashem, we don’t feel Hashem, yet there is still a bit of light there—Hashem is hiding there…

When a person is the farthest from Hashem, and from that empty space he turns to Hashem and cries out—“Hashem, what will be with me? Hashem, why did You abandon me?”—then Hashem immediately comes down to him and stands with him: “I love you. You are My child, with all the sins you have done.”

It is like a child who runs into the road carelessly, without looking. His father gives him two slaps. But if, Heaven forbid, the child gets hurt—even slightly—the father immediately hugs him, kisses him, cares for him, takes him to first aid. Maybe in a few months he will say something to him, but now…

But it is impossible to remain in that place all the time. Because it is not all the time that Hashem will take care of me, caress me, carry me in His arms. From now on, I must take myself in hand and begin doing things myself. I must remember that I am a chelek Eloka mima’al (a Divine portion from Above). I am not so terrible. I am beginning a new start now.

Hashem created the world so that people would know Him. And how will they know Him? Not through intellect—they will not know Him with intellect. Only with Emunah. So what did He do? He made an “empty space” where you don’t see Him; there you need Emunah.

Nothing is going for me, everything is hard, everything is dry, I feel nothing. But what do I have? Emunah!

Emunah is the foundation of creation: faith that Hashem is the One who leads everything here, that He turns all the causes and circumstances. This is the path by which the Holy One, blessed be He, is leading you, and you must believe with complete faith that it is the best for you.

You don’t blame anyone—not yourself and not others. And even though you feel nothing, you continue and continue and do the avodah (spiritual work). Once again you say the blessings; once again you pray; once again you strain to smile even when you have no smile. This is what the Holy One, blessed be He, wants: that work—when a person does what he needs to do without feeling anything.

In the darkest depths, the highest light is hidden

In the year 5570 (1810), on Shabbos Nachamu, a few months before the histalkus (passing away) of Rebbe Nachman zy"a, he was then in a state of “the departure of all mochin” (spiritual consciousness). He said that all the attainments and all the knowledge—everything disappeared from him: “I do not know anything now—nothing at all.”

And precisely from there, from that place, Rebbe Nachman chose to cry out his cry—the eternal cry that echoes until this very day: Gevald (an anguished cry), there is no despair in the world at all!

From there, from the bottom of the pit, from the empty space, he chose to proclaim to us his call: Don’t despair! To teach us that despair does not exist at all, even in places like those.

Is there a place where Hashem is not? Where we are alone? No! I am with you even there—in that great darkness you are in, in the place where you do not feel Me at all. “I am with you wherever you go.” One never leaves the domain of the Holy One, blessed be He. Hashem is always with us.

We must search for Him—find the way to reconnect to Him anew. A Jew must bring Emunah into the hardest situations. Not to despair. To know that truly Hashem is with him in every place, in every situation. A Jew must strengthen himself in this feeling that Hashem is with him every single moment. Even in the hardest moments, we must not forget that we will remain forever beloved children of Hashem.