February 9, 2025|י"א שבט ה' אלפים תשפ"ה Two Stories of Faith: Hope and Loyalty in the Face of Adversity By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

We have all been on an emotional and spiritual roller coaster since October 7th. This past week, two stories deeply strengthened my emunah. One received significant headlines, but the second, for me, was far more impactful.

The first story revolves around recent developments in international diplomacy and policy, sparked by President Trump’s proposals about what to do with the Palestinians in Gaza. While some may find these ideas unrealistic, they have instilled a renewed sense of optimism in Israel. They suggest that two seemingly irreconcilable goals—freeing the hostages and eliminating Hamas as a threat—might not be as incompatible as they once seemed. Until now, the choices appeared stark: either continue the war against Hamas with little hope of rescuing the hostages, or negotiate for the hostages’ release at the expense of Hamas's survival and the risk of future atrocities. But this week has challenged that narrative.

Trump’s proposals, whether feasible or not, challenge the narrative that Israel must endlessly repeat the same failed cycle: endure attacks, retaliate, and then withdraw under international pressure, hoping its enemies will moderate. Perhaps these proposals can galvanize moderate Arab leaders to take responsibility for demilitarizing Gaza, resettle Gazans who voluntarily seek a new life elsewhere, and dismantle the belief that Gazans must remain and suffer in Gaza as an act of resistance until Jews are expelled from the river to the sea. Trump also directed a maximum pressure campaign on Iran to cripple its nuclear ambitions, signed an executive order sanctioning the International Criminal Court for targeting Israeli leaders, and reinforced the perception of absolute unity between the United States and Israel. Former Secretary of State Antony Blinken, in reflecting on earlier U.S. policy, acknowledged that public daylight between America and Israel had hardened Hamas’s stance in ceasefire negotiations. By inviting Netanyahu to the White House as his first foreign leader in his second term, Trump signaled unequivocal support for Israel’s security and its determination to remove Hamas from Gaza.

This approach has revealed a fascinating divide. Left-wing Jews in America largely critiqued Trump’s plans as impractical or immoral, accusing them of ethnic cleansing. Meanwhile, left-wing Jews in Israel—alongside the majority of Israelis—have expressed strong support. A recent poll found that approximately 80% of Israelis back Trump’s plan for Gazan relocation, with fewer than 15% deeming it immoral. Notably, 54% of Arab respondents and only 3% of Jewish Israelis considered it immoral. Why this disparity?

For Israelis, especially those near Gaza, the threat is visceral. They’ve witnessed firsthand the evil Hamas represents. The prospect of American soldiers or at the very least, soldiers from moderate Arab nations securing their borders instead of Hamas terrorists offers hope. Yes, the moral questions surrounding forced relocations are complex, but Israelis are focused on immediate survival: freeing their hostages and preventing another October 7th. They see Trump’s backing as an extraordinary opportunity, supported by the leader of the world’s most powerful nation.

For many Israelis, this week’s developments have been a source of tremendous emunah. They see the hand of God in the dismantling of Hamas’s and Hezbollah’s military capabilities, the weakening of Iran’s defenses, and the unyielding support of a global superpower. It’s a moment that inspires faith and optimism—perhaps the dawn of a new era of peace and security for Israel.

But the second story—less publicized—moved me even more deeply. This story speaks to another kind of emunah, one of resilience and faithfulness.

The Torah tells us that after witnessing the Egyptians’ destruction at the Yam Suf, the Bnei Yisrael experienced two layers of faith: vayiru ha’am et Hashem va’ya’aminu ba’Hashem u’v’Moshe avdo. They feared God, and they believed in Him and in Moshe, His servant. The Rashbam explains that their faith reflected trust that God would take care of them, that they wouldn’t die in the desert. However, the Ibn Ezra adds another layer, suggesting their faith was also a commitment of לא יעשה רק מה שיצונו – to remain loyal to God and His commandments. This dual aspect of emunah—trust and loyalty—mirrors two essential ways we relate to Hashem.

Rav Lichtenstein wrote an article about two types of bitachon, or trust. The first is a hopeful faith—believing that God will guide us through challenges and bring light at the end of the darkness. It is a faith of optimism. But there’s also a second kind: a steadfast commitment to God, no matter the outcome. This kind of faith says, “Even if the future is uncertain, even if the outcome is painful, we remain connected to God.” As Rav Lichtenstein wrote, “This approach does not claim that God will remain at our side; rather, it asks us to remain at His side.”

The first type of emunah—the faith of hope—can be found in the optimism inspired by this week’s international developments. But the second type of emunah—the commitment to remain faithful—is exemplified in a remarkable story of courage and love for Am Yisrael.

This week, the Jerusalem Post reported on five young women: Liri Albag, Daniela Gilboa, Karina Ariev, Naama Levy, and Agam Berger. These five heroines, recently released from captivity after 15 months, have asked to return to active duty in the IDF. The trauma they endured is unimaginable, yet their response has been extraordinary. Even as the IDF encourages them to rest and recover, they are determined to defend Am Yisrael.

This act of faithfulness—choosing to return to service despite their suffering—is nothing short of awe-inspiring. The Ibn Ezra teaches us that the Bnei Yisrael, after enduring the trauma of slavery, could not fully embrace their faith even after the ten plagues when they saw the Egyptians chasing after them by the Yam Suf. They only embraced their faith once they saw their oppressors vanquished. But these five young women have gone one step further. Despite their trauma, they stand strong, driven by their love for Am Yisrael and Medinat Yisrael. This is not merely faith—it is faithfulness.

A story is told of a rabbi who once gave a sermon on faith, and afterward, a congregant approached him and said, "Rabbi, I want to believe, but faith feels so hard during times like these." The rabbi smiled gently and replied, "Faith doesn’t mean we don’t feel the pain; it means we refuse to let it break our connection to God."

This captures the essence of what we’ve seen this week. On the one hand, many of us in America and most Jews in Israel have the hope of a better future, as reflected in international developments that inspire optimism. On the other hand, we have the profound resilience of those who, like the five courageous young women, choose faithfulness even amid uncertainty and pain.

Faith doesn’t mean we’re untouched by hardship—it means that through it all, we remain connected to God, to each other, and to our purpose as Am Yisrael. May we learn from their example and strengthen our own connection, so that we can navigate both the small battles and the great challenges with unwavering emunah and faithfulness.