Why Worry?

“Do not allow worry into your heart, for worry has killed mighty men.”

—Talmud Sanhedrin 100b

“Why worry what will be tomorrow as long as the bartender is willing to serve us on credit?”

—Nineteenth-century Chasidic song

We all worry. We fret over the past (“I messed up that interview”), we’re concerned about the future (“Those bills are coming!”), and we’re anxious about our long-term prospects (“Will my skills be relevant in the years to come?”).

Naturally, Jewish wisdom offers multiple methods to address this universal emotion.

One approach is to meditate on the transient and unknowable nature of everything. What is the point of worrying about a future you have no idea whether you’ll participate in? It is wiser to just live in the present. In this spirit, the Talmudic sage Rabbi Yosef (3rd–4th century CE) would recommend: “Grieve not about tomorrow’s trouble, because you know not what a day may bring; perhaps tomorrow you will no longer be, and you will have worried about a world that is not yours.”1

However, we will focus here on a more basic idea. It is one of the foundational tenets of Jewish ethics and a central theme in the Rebbe’s counseling: bitachon.2

Bitachon means trust (in G‑d). Trust is different from a feeling of love or awe towards G‑d; it is absolute reliance with peace of mind. This is how the medieval Jewish sage Rabbi Bachya Ibn Pakuda (1050–1120) defines it:

The essence of bitachon is the emotional calm of the one who trusts. Their heart relies on the one they trust to do what is good and proper for them.3

Trust is synonymous with calm. Have you ever sat in a cab or in a friend’s car and thought, “I just don’t trust this driver”? The road might be clear, but your heart can’t stop its uneasy thumping. You keep anxiously checking out the window. You know it won’t help you. It doesn’t matter. You’re worried.

Compare that experience with the times you were convinced of your driver’s responsibility and good judgment. When you trust the driver, you can sit at ease and let your mind wander. You may not know what the next turn will bring, but you’re calm. You feel you’re in good hands. That feeling is bitachon.

The internal thought process of bitachon can be broken down into three steps:

1. There is a higher power—G‑d—who runs the world, including the events in my life.

2. He is the essence of goodness, and “the nature of goodness is to do good.” He loves me and cares for me.

3. Therefore, though I may not know what the future might bring, I need not fear or be anxious. I am in the best of hands.

A letter to an elderly man reads,

“Through reflecting on the idea that G‑d watches over every man and woman, in their day-to-day lives, and even in such details that the world considers petty and insignificant—[it becomes clear that] there is no foundation for worry of any type. It is like the calm of a little child who finds himself near his father, though in the analogy the father is only all-powerful in the child’s imagination, whereas our Father in Heaven is all-powerful in reality as well.4

Between Doing and Fretting

This doesn’t mean you can lie back, do nothing, and rely on G‑d to take care of it all. Jewish wisdom repeatedly references the verse “G‑d will bless you in all that you do,”5 indicating that proactive doing is absolutely vital to receiving the blessing of success.

The reason for this need to do, explain the Chasidic masters,6 evolves from the mystical underpinnings of creation. G‑d wills a world where His divine energy is not in conflict with the natural order, but rather flows and works through natural channels. Therefore, you must do your best to create a practical framework that most aligns with a positive outcome.

But once (and moreover, while) you’re doing what you can, it should be carried out with a healthy calm. Imagine you work a desk job in a large corporation. Your only responsibility is to complete the task you were assigned. You don’t need to, nor should you, lose sleep thinking of the corporate balance sheet. Similarly, our role is to do what we can within the natural order to create a vehicle for the best result. What happens in the end is not for us to fret over. It is in better hands than ours.

The following handwritten note to a woman, addressing her anxiety, drives this point home:

By meditating “with a full heart” and “with intensity” (as you wrote is your manner of approaching everything) on the concept of G‑d’s providence, that it is He who conducts the world at all times—any basis for worry or strain is nullified. G‑d indeed wants a person to do what is necessary in natural means, but not to worry in their mind.7

“The way to ease stress,” reads another letter,

is, first of all, to strengthen [one’s] bitachon—complete trust—in G‑d, whose benevolent divine providence extends to everyone individually and in all particulars, as our G‑dly Psalmist, King David, often reminds us, “G‑d is my shepherd, I will lack nothing,” and more in this vein. Hence, there is really no reason for anxiety. Needless to say, this is one of the basic tenets of the Torah.

To be sure, G‑d expects a Jew to do what is necessary in the natural order of things, promising that “G‑d, your G‑d, will bless you in all that you do.” So one has to go about doing what is necessary, but without worry; on the contrary, with confidence. It is also self-evident that when one views such pressures as a temporary test, and takes them in stride, calmly, with a clear head, it is much easier to find the right solutions and carry them out effectively.8

However, letting go of our worry is not always easy.

Actually Letting Go

The Maggid of Dubno (1741–1804), a preacher famous for his fables, explained the meaning of bitachon with the following tale:

A poor man trudged along the road carrying a heavy bundle on his shoulders. An expensive-looking carriage, drawn by two mighty horses, was passing him by when it came to a sudden halt. The owner of the carriage emerged and offered the traveler a ride. Weary, the poor man gladly accepted the offer.

The carriage was continuing along the road when the wealthy man noticed that his passenger was still carrying his load. He asked, “My good man, what in the world are you doing? Why don’t you put your sack on the floor?”

The humble traveler replied, “Dear sir, you have been kind enough to me already. Your carriage has to bear the weight of my body. How can I burden you with my bundle as well?”

The host laughed and chided his guest, “Don’t you see that it’s the same for me if you hold your load on your shoulder or put it down? I’m carrying it anyway!”9

Putting down our load and allowing G‑d to carry it for us can be hard. Like the poor man in the story, we each have a burden we’re used to carrying, and we can’t always fathom letting it go. It takes reflection and practice, but the rewards are transformative.

“Man is the master of his lot only to a certain extent,” reads a 1951 letter.

For the most part, it depends on G‑d. Thus, a person need not carry everything on their own shoulders, feeling an overwhelming responsibility for everything. And certainly, one need not be filled with despair about specific matters or specific situations.

When a person connects with their inner fount of faith and bitachon, which without a doubt remains deeply rooted in them, it gives them inner calm, enables them to go through life in a healthy manner, and allows them to better fulfill the unique task every individual has in life.10

“When I was about eighteen years old,” Mr. B. recounted, “I had a psychotic episode and ended up in a psychiatric hospital for six weeks. I was subsequently diagnosed as manic depressive, which nowadays is referred to as bipolar.

“Over the years, the Rebbe encouraged me to seek out a good psychiatrist and follow their directives. He constantly supported me along the way and offered me reassurance.

“One time, after I had a psychotic episode, I wrote to the Rebbe that I was very nervous. The Rebbe’s secretary responded telling me that the Rebbe had advised me to do four things: 1) hesech hadaat meihanal—to take my mind off the fact that I had been nervous [see chapter 10 for more on this]; 2) to check my tzitzit to make sure that the garment was kosher; 3) to check my tefillin to make sure they were kosher;11 and 4) to study The Gate of Trust by Rabbi Bachya Ibn Pakuda.

“I followed all these instructions. I checked my tzitzit, and even though I didn’t find any problem with them, I bought new ones just to be sure. I had my tefillin checked, and, when an issue was found, I had it rectified. I also stopped focusing so much on how nervous I was. Instead, I began to study The Gate of Trust, which explains how one can live a life of total faith in G‑d, free of worry. I recall feeling a tremendous sense of comfort and assurance when I did so. I learned that G‑d runs every facet and detail of life, so when we trust in Him, we can deal with others calmly and with confidence.

“I felt like someone who had been parched in a desert and who was suddenly given a drink of cold, refreshing water. Slowly, my insecurities and worries melted away. I felt that I could navigate life and relationships in a secure and worry-free way.

“Ultimately, I found a job that suited me; I got married and started a family. And looking back, I can say that, thank G‑d, my life has been very productive and happy.”12