I Believed, Therefore I Spoke

“I believed, therefore I spoke; I was deeply afflicted.” Opening Do you know him? He is a Jew you meet, and sometimes he is you. He says, “I’ll try to get up for prayer on time.” “If only I could manage to study more.” “I’ll try to be more patient.” Good words. Good intentions. And in real life? Nothing moves. So a person asks himself: What is the problem? I want to. I am trying. Maybe I don’t have the strength? Maybe I am not yet on that spiritual level? But there is a sharper question here. Is “I’ll try” a way of setting the self aside, a sign of humility? Or is it the language of weakness, dressed up as humility? The Problem: An Escape Hatch When a person says “I’ll try,” he sounds responsible. He sounds modest. But deep inside, he has built himself an escape hatch. After all, “I tried.” After all, “I made the effort.” Who could come to him with a complaint? The same is true of “if only.” “If only I studied the daily page of Talmud.” “If only I were more careful with my words.” These phrases are not prayer. They are not a request. They openly admit that the person gave up before he started. He did not say “I decide.” He did not say “I commit myself.” He said “if only,” and with that he put his dream away on the shelf of fantasies. This is not humility. True humility, as the Tanya, the classic book of Hasidic thought, explains, means knowing how small you are before Hashem. But that knowledge leads a person to accept Hashem’s yoke, a real and binding commitment to Him, and to act. What we are describing here is something else entirely. It is hidden despair, wearing a cloak of modesty. The Foundation: I Believed, Therefore I Spoke King David says in the Book of Psalms: “I believed, therefore I spoke.” The holy Zohar, Judaism’s classic mystical work, learns a most basic principle from this verse. Speech is how inner faith comes out into the open. What is inside rises up and shows itself through speech. That is why the order is first “I believed,” and then “therefore I spoke.” Faith is what causes speech. We can also learn the reverse from this. If the speech is weak, it shows that the faith is weak. If a person says “I’ll try,” he does not believe in himself. He does not believe he has the strength to keep his word. And in truth, the soul believes what the mouth says. Speech is not “just air.” It is a garment of the soul, and whatever garment the soul puts on, it steps into. So a person who speaks the language of weakness is not only describing where he stands. He makes it stronger and makes it permanent. The words themselves become a prison. The Other Way: Speaking with Strength What is the opposite? Not arrogance. Not boasting. It is accepting Hashem’s yoke. Instead of “I’ll try to get up for prayer,” say “I commit myself to getting up for prayer.” Instead of “If only I would study more,” say “With Hashem’s help, I am deciding to study.” Here is the test. “May it be Your will” and “if only” are the language of prayer. They are beautiful when they are aimed upward, as a request to Hashem. But when a person says “if only” about a decision that is in his own hands, he is dodging. He is sending up above what he himself needs to do down here below. A soldier in Hashem’s army who receives a mission does not say “I’ll try.” He says, “Here I am.” And that is not arrogance. It is faith: faith that Hashem has given him the strength he needs for his task. Closing There is a well-known saying, taught in the name of the Baal Shem Tov, founder of the Hasidic movement: Do not make yourself weak and poor in your own eyes. This is not because you are so great. It is because Hashem created you to serve Him, and He placed in you the strength to do it. When you speak the language of weakness, you are not being humble. You are refusing to accept your mission. Change the way you speak. Not because words are magic, but because words are the truth. When you say “I decide,” you will hear what your mouth is saying. And you will know that you no longer have an escape hatch.