Small tidbits and Sparks of wisdom

“Do not place your trust in nobles, nor in a human being, for he holds no salvation. His spirit departs, he returns to his earth; on that very day, his thoughts perish.”
(Tehillim 146:3–4)

This verse delivers a hard but holy truth: no human—no matter how powerful, wealthy, or kind—is the true source of salvation. Their spirit is temporary, their power is fleeting. Ultimately, everything a person has or receives is from Hashem alone.

Many religious Jews say, “I trust in Hashem,” yet quietly lean—just a little—on their paycheck, their parents, their spouse, their network. A sliver of reliance here, a trace of hope there. But King David warns us: even that small trace is misplaced. If we believe blessing comes from people, even if Hashem is in the background, we’ve already begun to corrupt the clarity of emunah.

Avraham’s Refusal: A Lesson in Pure Faith

Nowhere is this message more sharply illustrated than in the life of Avraham Avinu.

After risking his life to defeat the four kings and rescue Lot, Avraham is offered a massive reward by the King of Sodom. And yet, he refuses, saying:

“I raise my hand to Hashem, God Most High, Maker of Heaven and Earth, that I will not take even a thread or a shoelace, lest you say: ‘I made Avram rich.’”
(Bereishis 14:22–23)

Think about this: Avraham had just waged war, won decisively, and had every legal and moral right to take the spoils. Yet he turned it all down—not because he didn’t need it, not because he was above wealth, but because he refused to let anyone say that his success came from human hands. Not even a shoelace.

This is the extreme expression of bitachon. To deny not just the help of others, but even the perception of dependence. Not out of ego—but out of spiritual clarity. Avraham wanted no one—even generations later—to claim that any part of his success, his legacy, or his blessing came from a corrupt human source.

Taking Help ≠ Placing Trust

This doesn’t mean we walk through life rejecting kindness or refusing to function in society. On the contrary, Torah requires us to be mesudar—organized, relational, grateful, and kind. We are meant to work, interact, give, and receive. But beneath all the interactions lies the root question: where is your trust?

Do you believe the help came through that person? Or from them?

A true ba’al bitachon knows: the boss who signs the check, the spouse who supports emotionally, the parent who gives advice—all are just instruments. The real Meitiv, the ultimate Giver, is Hashem. Everyone else is just delivering the package.

This is why some of our greatest tzaddikim even avoided small gifts or favors—not because they were ungrateful, but because they feared the spiritual distortion. They didn’t want you to think you were the source. And even more—they didn’t want themselves to fall into that illusion.

A Counterculture of Bitachon

In our culture, success is paraded, wealth is admired, and connections are treated like salvation. But the Torah view is clear: even if the world praises you for “being well connected,” or “knowing how to network,” none of it guarantees your blessing. Only Hashem does. And sometimes He removes the props—just to show us Who truly holds us up.

Avraham Avinu’s example reminds us that spiritual integrity sometimes requires rejecting comfort. That bitachon isn’t passive—it’s a militant clarity of mind. A refusal to allow success to be interpreted as human-made.

When a Jew says, “I trust only in Hashem,” it should mean only. Not 90%. Not 99%. But with the shoelace too.

Footnote: The Midrash (Bereishis Rabbah 43:9) and Rashi (on Bereishis 14:23) explain that Avraham’s refusal was not just moral, but spiritual. He wanted to sanctify God’s Name by demonstrating that his success was due only to Hashem, not to alliances or royal handouts.