1. Words Are Cheap, Emunah Is Expensive

( Emunah= included Bitochan)

In every generation, the Yetzer Hara adapts. Today, he hides in spiritual language. In communities of Torah and chesed, people speak beautifully about emunah — about trust in Hashem, surrender, detachment from money, and living with clarity of faith. They quote the Chazon Ish, the Chovos Halevavos, and the Ramban on bitachon. Some even take pride in publicly declaring their belief that Hashem provides everything, and that one need not worry or chase wealth.

But when that faith is tested — not in theory, but in the real, raw moment when a fellow Jew approaches and asks for help — something happens. The same mouths that spoke of trust and generosity now shift to rationalizing why they cannot give:
“I’ve already given my ma’aser,” they say.
“I’m supporting other Torah causes.”
“I must save for future obligations.”

And yet, these very people have no hesitation to fund personal trips, remodel homes, buy new suits, or even donate large sums to prestigious Torah institutions — where their name might appear on a plaque or banquet journal.

2. Public Preaching, Private Withholding

Let’s be clear: ma’aser is a floor, not a ceiling. It is the beginning of a Jew’s financial responsibility, not the end. The true baal emunah doesn’t calculate his generosity to the penny while he lives in comfort. He gives because he knows it’s not his to begin with. He gives because he believes in the Giver of the wealth. And when he speaks of faith, it’s not a shield to deflect responsibility — it’s the wellspring from which his compassion flows.

There’s a dishonesty — even a betrayal — in loudly proclaiming faith and trust while living with excessive caution, self-indulgence, and rigid boundaries on generosity. If you truly live with Hashem, then when someone in pain stands in front of you, you respond as if Hashem is standing behind him — watching, listening, waiting to see what your emunah really means.

3. True Faith Is Proven in the Quiet, Costly Deed

The test of faith isn’t in the drasha. It’s not in the WhatsApp status with a quote from Rebbe Nachman or the Ramchal. It’s in the day someone you don’t owe comes to you, in need. And it’s inconvenient. And you already gave. And you don’t have a cheshbon ready. Then — if you dig into your pocket, your heart, and your comfort — that’s emunah.

It was the Novardoker Mussar giants who used to say: “A person who speaks emunah but clings to his money has built a palace with no foundation.” If your public image is built on words of faith, then your life must be built on acts of generosity. Otherwise, your words are noise — worse, they become falsehood.

4. Live the Way You Speak

If you’re going to speak about trust in Hashem, then live that way. If you encourage others to let go, then be the first to let go of your grip on your money. If you teach that Hashem will provide, then be that vehicle of Hashem’s provision when someone asks. The same people who talk about “letting go” often only do so when it doesn’t cost them. That’s not emunah. That’s performance.

Real emunah doesn’t need applause. It doesn’t need to justify. It gives. It helps. It acts.

5. Don’t Judge the Seeker — That’s Not Your Role

Even among those who speak often and beautifully about emunah, there is a troubling trend. They publicly encourage trust in Hashem, they inspire others to live with bitachon, and their words have uplifted many — and that’s a great thing. They should continue spreading that message.

But this chapter is here to remind them: when you preach faith, people will come to you. People in pain. People in need. And very often, people who also lack that very faith you’re encouraging. Some are broken. Some are destitute. Some are simply weak in emunah — but that’s why they’re coming to you. Because you claim to be strong.

And I heard a heartbreaking statement from one very wealthy man — a man known to give generously — who was approached by a Jew in need. The man dismissed the request by saying, “Why should I help him? Let him stay in Eretz Yisroel and work on his emunah.”

That is a perversion of daas Torah.

Yes, it is true that every Jew must strengthen himself in bitachon. Yes, we all must rise up spiritually. But you — the one with abundance, the one who is admired and emulated — you are not allowed to judge someone else’s spiritual level when he comes to you for help.

Chazal say clearly: “Al tadin es chavercha ad shetagia limkomo — Do not judge your fellow until you reach his place.”
And the truth is — you never will. You didn’t grow up in his home. You didn’t suffer what he suffered. You don’t live with his struggles, his education, his wiring, his loneliness, his traumas. You cannot speak as if you do.

Even if you give half your wealth to tzedakah, even if you’ve donated millions, even if you have an entire kollel learning in your name — if you can give $50,000 without blinking, and someone broken stands before you and asks — you don’t have the right to say, “He should have bitachon and not come to me.”

You are not Hashem.
And in that moment, Hashem may have sent him to you — to see if you believe in Him.

So many forget: Giving is not about the recipient’s worthiness. It’s about your faith. It’s not about whether the poor man is holy enough. It’s about whether you are.

Let us never forget that even our own acts of faith can become tests of pride. The more you talk emunah, the more you’re obligated to live it. With open hands. With a soft heart. Without judgment.

Conclusion: Faith Without Action Is Fraud

Emunah is not in your head. It’s in your hand, in your checkbook, in your time. It’s when someone cries out to you and your answer is “Hineni” — here I am, even if it’s inconvenient, even if no one will know. That is the faith that Hashem sees and cherishes. That is the faith that builds a nation.

The Torah Jew is not defined by eloquence or public persona. He is defined by his actions when no one is watching. When someone knocks on his door, or approaches him quietly after shul, or writes a letter with trembling hands — the test of emunah is not in the delay, not in the calculation, not in the percentage. It is in the immediate willingness to carry someone else’s burden.

Rav Yisroel Salanter said: “The material needs of another Jew are your spiritual responsibilities.” If you truly live with faith, that means you see your bank account not as your fortress, but as your mission. You see your extra not as luxury, but as obligation.

Stop judging. Start giving. Stop preaching. Start living. Speak less. Do more.

Because when you meet Hashem after 120, He will not ask how many times you quoted the Chazon Ish on bitachon. He will ask how many people walked away from you with dignity because you had the chance to help — and you did.

Everything else is just noise.

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