Being Jewish Without All the Answers
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Judaism doesn’t demand certainty, only commitment to the journey.
There is a Hebrew word, emunah, commonly translated as faith or belief. Yet the word carries another equally powerful meaning: loyalty. Judaism does not demand belief alone, nor loyalty alone, but a fusion of both. Thus, Abraham is described as a man of faith,1 while Moses is praised as God’s most loyal servant.2
This raises a profound question: can belief and loyalty endure in the presence of doubt, protest, and even complaint against God?
Faith does not preclude questions.
From the very beginning of his relationship with God, Abraham exemplifies this tension. One of his first recorded encounters occurs when God informs him of the impending destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham does not respond with silent submission; he argues. He challenges the Judge of all the earth, asking how justice could allow the innocent to perish alongside the guilty.3
Later, when promised the land of Israel, Abraham again questions God: “How shall I know that I will inherit it?”4
Faith does not preclude questions.
Moses, too, repeatedly challenges God. When first commanded to lead the Israelites out of Egypt, he resists, insisting that he is not a man of words and that his brother Aaron would be a better leader.5 According to the Midrash,6 this argument continues for a full week.
After Moses’ initial confrontation with Pharaoh only worsens the Israelites’ suffering, he turns to God in anguish: “Why did You send me? From the moment I came to Pharaoh to speak in Your name, things have only become worse.”7
Later, following the sin of the Golden Calf, when God proposes destroying the people and beginning anew with Moses, Moses refuses. He defends Israel with the ultimate act of loyalty: “Erase me from Your book if You will not forgive them.”8
Abraham, Moses, and David are described as faithful, loyal, and righteous, yet they all questioned God and cried out in protest.
King David, perhaps the most emotionally transparent of all biblical figures, gives voice to faith in turmoil through the Book of Psalms. These prayers—recited for millennia by Jews and non-Jews alike—are filled not only with praise, but with anguish, confusion, and protest:
“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”9
“Why, O Lord, do You stand far away?”10
““How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?”11
“Awake! Why are you sleeping, O Lord? … Why do you hide your face?”12
Here we find three of Judaism’s greatest figures—Abraham, Moses, and David—described as faithful, loyal, and righteous, all of whom argued with God, questioned God, and cried out in protest. Their lives teach that faith and doubt are not opposites. Loyalty can coexist with struggle.
Emunah is not a static or binary state. It is not something one either possesses or lacks. It is a path.
This truth was powerfully embodied by Agam Berger, a 20-year-old Israeli soldier kidnapped by Hamas on October 7, 2023, and held in captivity for 482 days. During her imprisonment, she discovered a Jewish prayer book among the remnants of an abandoned Israeli military outpost. That moment became a turning point.
Under brutal conditions, she chose to observe Shabbat, fast on Yom Kippur, light a Hanukkah candle, and mark Passover with corn flour, carefully avoiding leavened bread. After her release, she declared, “I was kidnapped because I’m Jewish… You can’t take away my Judaism.”
On the helicopter returning her to Israel, she held a sign reading: “I chose the path of faith”—a verse from Psalm 119.13
Agam Berger returning to Israel from Gaza, with her sign: I chose the path of faith.
Faith, emunah, is described here not as certainty, but as a choice—one step after another. Like any journey, it includes obstacles, detours, and moments of exhaustion. A loyal soldier may harbor doubts yet remains committed to the mission. A loving relationship may experience anger and uncertainty yet endures because it has been chosen.
There is a haunting story—its precise details uncertain yet echoed in many verified accounts—of three rabbis imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp who convened a Beit din, a Jewish court, to put God on trial for allowing the Holocaust. After deliberation, they found God “guilty.” Moments later, as the sun began to set, one rabbi stood and announced: “Mincha!” It was time for the afternoon prayer. And they prayed.
Rabbi Benjamin Blech, in his book Dear God, Why?, recounts a reflection by Elie Wiesel after liberation from a concentration camp. Some survivors sought food, others revenge. A third group gathered to recite Kaddish, the mourner’s prayer. Wiesel said he understood them—though he felt, at that moment, that God did not deserve it. Yet Wiesel remained a loyal Jew, observing Shabbat and putting on tefillin throughout his life.
The patriarch, Jacob, is described by the Torah as “settling down, in the place where his fathers were temporary dwellers.”14 Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner, known as the Ishbitzer, writes15 that God made it clear to Jacob that he cannot and should not expect tranquility and ease in this world. Those qualities are for the future, Messianic times. While the person dwells in this world, God expects progress and growth. Because of that, God also expects, mistakes, doubts and a lack of clarity. But He also expects loyalty and faith.
These stories teach a radical and enduring truth: spiritual seriousness does not require spiritual certainty. One can question God and still walk with Him. One can protest and still pray. Faith is not the absence of doubt—it is the decision to remain loyal despite it.
