I know of no ways to faith other than faith itself. The formulation "ways tofaith" could be interpreted as implying that faith is a conclusion a person may come to after pondering certain facts about the world-facts about history, nature, or consciousness. If that were the case, one could lead a person to this conclusion by presenting these facts to him and pointing out their implications. I, however, do not regard religious faith as a conclusion. It is rather an evaluative decision that one makes, and, like all evaluations, it does not result from any information one has acquired, but is a commitment to which one binds himself. In other words, faith is not a form of cognition; it is a conative element of consciousness. Faith, therefore, cannot be taught. One can only present it in all its might and power.

I shall discuss faith, not ways to faith. There are no ways to faith, since faith is the supreme, if not the only, manifestation of man's free choice. Man can assume the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven, the yoke of Torah and Mitzvoth and he can repudiate it. No method can guide him in this. Nothing he could experience would lead him to faith if faith did not spring from his own decision and resolve. Signs and wonders, "the mighty hand and the stretched-out arm," God's deliverance and even the revelation of the Shekhinah - none of these sufficed to inculcate faith in the generation that witnessed them. The prophets who appeared among the people of Israel subsequently, men of God through whose mouths the Shekhinah spoke, failed to reform even one soul. Conversely, long after them, scores of generations that saw no miracles and never in their lives beheld any testimony of divine governance, who witnessed neither reward of virtue nor punishment of sin and had not experienced deliverance, nevertheless conducted their lives in the fullness of faith. It is not nature or history that give origin to religious faith. In that case, faith could have no meaningful value. It would impose itself on man even as the findings of science impose themselves on any mind that understands them, leaving no room for choice, deliberation, and decision.

In taking up the subject of faith, I am struck by the emphatic claim that "faith and religion are not identical concepts." I assume that the authors of this statement wish to distinguish a specific psychological-conceptual content of the religious consciousness from its concrete institutionalized embodiment. I disagree with this intention, and my main purpose in what follows is to contest it. I contend that, for Judaism, faith is nothing but its system of Mitzvoth, which was the embodiment of Judaism. In other words, the assumption of the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven is nothing other than the assumption of the yoke of Torah and Mitzvoth. Faith, in Judaism, is the religion of Mitzvoth, and apart from this religion Jewish faith does not exist.

In thus depicting Jewish faith, I appeal to the primary document of faith for Israel, the Shema. Nothing is clearer, more unequivocal, and more familiar to us than the reading of Shema. Not only is it the primary document of Jewish faith, it is also the subject of the first halakhic discussion in the Torah of Israel, the Oral Torah, which opens with the question: "From what time may one recite Shema?"[1] Moreover, the reading of Shema is the first commandment a Jew must perform when he reaches the age of thirteen. The first Mitzvah that he is bound to perform on the eve of the last day of his thirteenth year is the reading of Shema.

It would seem that nothing new could be said here about the reading of Shema. During some hundred generations, all that could be said has been said. Nevertheless it is worth repeating these things, following the example of Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto, who, in the opening of his The Path of the Upright informs us that he has come not to innovate, but to remind people of what they already know.[2]

The reading of all three parts of the Shema poses difficult questions. Because reading Shema has become a matter of habit for those who practice religion and must read it twice daily, these questions tend to be overlooked although they had already been pointed out by the great Jewish thinkers. In the ensuing pages I shall be guided by the greatest of Jewish believers since the biblical age, Maimonides.

The initial question pertains to the first two portions, which are also included in the Mezuzah.[3] In the Pentateuch they are not far apart, and in the prescribed recitation of Shema they are read consecutively. This is very perplexing. Ostensibly, one cannot imagine a sharper contrast in quality of faith than that between the first and second portion of the Shema. The types of faith they represent seem to be worlds apart. Yet, in Deuteronomy they are close to each other, and even the unbelieving critics of Pentateuchal sources do not deny that both parts derive from the same source. In the halakhically prescribed recital they are read contiguously as constituting a single unit.

The contrast between them is profound, one might say abysmal. My comments on the first part do not refer to the opening verse (Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One), which is a slogan of faith rather than its content. The content of the first part is in the second among its six verses: "And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might." Here, love is faith.

The commandment to love God is presented here as an absolute demand, a categorical imperative. No justification of the imperative is offered and no claim is made that is necessitated by any facts. It is not bolstered by sanctions. There is no hint of benefits to be incurred by fulfilling this commandment nor is there any threat of punishment that would follow its violation. The imperative is presented as self-validating. It represents what the post-biblical tradition calls lishma – the service of God for His own sake. This tremendous verse of the written Torah received its authentic elucidation by the greatest figure of the world of the oral Torah, Rabbi Akiba, who said "'with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might' - even if He take way your soul."[4]

The second portion, beginning with the words "And it shall come to pass, if you will hearken diligently," stands starkly opposed to all that is implied by the first. The observance of the commandment to love God and to serve him now seems to require bolstering by sanctions. The word "if" at the beginning and the word "lest" in its sequel suggest the alternative, that of violating the Mitzvah. The imperative thus ceases to be categorical and becomes hypothetical. The first portion in which the imperative is presented as categorical, makes no mention of the possibility of its violation. The second part offers a utilitarian motivation for the assumption of the yoke of Heaven and of the Torah and Mitzvoth: "if you will hearken diligently... then will I send the rain for your land in its due season"; and "Take heed to yourselves lest your heart be deceived... For then God's wrath will be kindled against you and he will shut up the heavens," and so on. This is diametrically opposed to the first part, as construed by Rabbi Akiba. One might say that "if you hearken" represents the religiosity of Elisha ben Abuyah, who was also one of the great Torah sages, Akiba's colleague and Meir's mentor. He became Aher or "alienated" after he saw how a Mitzvah which was supposed to confer longevity on one who observed it might in fact be the cause of his death.[5]

How could both "Hear O Israel..." and "if you hearken" be included in the Mitzvah of reading Shema? Answers to this question were proffered by many, but the answer was given by Maimonides. It is an answer which penetrates to the very depths of religious faith. The great issue epitomized in the confrontation of the two constituent portions of the reading of Shema is pivotal for Maimonides' conception of faith. He discusses it repeatedly - sometimes referring explicitly to one or both of these portions and sometimes only by implication.[6]

Central to this discussion is the sharp distinction between lishmah and not lishmah. Without this distinction the world of Jewish faith constituted by the Torah and Mitzvoth cannot be fully comprehended. God may be worshiped at two levels, representing two different types of motivation. In the terminology of ethical theory, one might say that faith and Torah may be conceived deontically, and also along consequentialist lines. The Torah admits both levels. The first part of the reading of Shema is the expression of faith for its own sake, which is called "love." This faith has no instrumental function and no ulterior purpose. It cannot be rationally explained. If it were capable of being justified for ulterior reasons, it would lose its character as a categorical imperative. What a person does for a specific reason is not, in itself, the direct outcome of his decision.

The explanation of the nature of the faith, which is identical with love, is repeated by Maimonides wherever he takes up the subject: "human perfection - that they should fear God (the fear of His grandeur) and should know who is with them"; "that the purpose of all the Mitzvoth is the attainment of this passion, namely, fear of Him, may He be exalted"; "that the purpose of the Torah in its entirety is the single end of leading to fear of the Exalted and Awesome One"; "and what the Exalted One demands of us is that we adopt this as our end: 'and you shall love the Lord your God.'"[7] This love was the virtue of Abraham, and because of this it was said of him, "and he believed in God." It is what he proved in the Aqedah by accepting the yoke of the service of God, even though no "advantage," in the sense of the satisfaction of a need, or any imaginable reward could accrue from it. Any punishment for disobedience would be insignificant compared to the sacrifice demanded of him. The duties of faith take precedence over all human needs, interests, and values, even those of the divine promises embodied In visions of the future (the abrogation of the Covenant of the pieces! [Gen. 15]). Abraham "believed in truth," and it was not a "truth" that is used as a tool or an instrument or means for the satisfaction of a need. "Towards the attainment of this way [of serving God] one must aspire," and the first portion of the reading of Shema is conducive to arousing such aspiration.[8]

We must pay strict attention to the wording: Maimonides does not say that a person ought to conduct himself in this manner, but rather that he should aspire to this way of conducting himself. He distinguishes between the end itself and the striving toward it. Maimonides is aware that the goal indicated in the first portion of the reading of Shema is "an exceedingly high and difficult achievement which only the very few attain after highly elaborate preparation"; "that not all persons apprehend the truth as did Abraham, and therefore the masses have been permitted- in order to confirm them in their faith - to perform the Mitzvoth out of hope for reward and to refrain from transgression for fear of the punishment... until one may apprehend and know the truth and the perfect way."[9] "Permitted" is the key word to understanding "if you will hearken." "What the Exalted One demands of us" is set forth in the first portion of Shema.

The distinction between the two levels at which faith may be conceived removes the prima facie internal contradiction that some find in the doctrine of Maimonides concerning the purpose of the Mitzvoth. Some twenty chapters of the Guide appear to be concerned with rationalization of the Mitzvoth, each of which is interpreted as possessing utility for the individual or society or as an efficient educational instrument. But after all this Maimonides comes out with his stupendous statement: "know that all the practices of the worship, such as the reading of Torah, prayer and the performance of the other commandments, have only the end of training you to occupy yourself with His commandments, may He be exalted, rather than with things pertaining to this world; you should act as if you were occupied with Him, may He be exalted, and not with that which is other than He."[10] Thus, contrary to Maimonides' previous discussion, the purpose of the service of God is now seen to be not the improvement of the world and human life; the service itself is the very purpose! But, in point of fact, there is no contradiction here but rather a clear distinction between the two concepts of faith: as an end-in-itself and as instrument; a distinction corresponding to that between lishmah and not lishmah; between "Hear O Israel" and "if you will hearken."

From Maimonides we turn back to our very first source, to Genesis, where we shall already find the two senses of "the fear of God," both in the same portion of the Torah. In his confrontation with Avimelekh the king of Gerar, Abraham talks in terms the ruler would understand: "Because I thought surely the fear of God is not in this place; and they will slay me." Yet approximately sixty verses later, when Abraham stands before God after the awesome experience of the Aqedah, he is told: "for now I know that you fear God." There is no need for many words to explain the difference between these two "fears." The former is the fear of the supreme chief of police, the latter is the fear of God, and that, according to Maimonides, "is the intention of the Torah and the fundamental intent of our sages." In His graciousness toward His creatures, the Giver of the Torah does not reject a person who abides by the Torah even if he has not attained understanding of its "intention." The joining of the two portions of the Pentateuch into a single unit, the Shema, so as to express both the faith of him who serves God in acknowledgment of His divinity and the faith of him who serves God because he attributes to Him the governance of human life, was an act of profound significance. That the intention of the Torah is the service of God lishmah ("out of love") was never in dispute among the rabbinic Sages. The subject of their disagreement was the evaluation of the service of God "not for its own sake" ("out of fear"). Some approve of it and even recommend it as a way of serving God suitable to a person who has not attained perfection of faith. Maimonides himself, the greatest believer among the Jews since the patriarchs and the prophets, lends his authority to this view. "A man should always occupy himself with Torah and Mitzvoth though it is not for their own sake, for in consequence of doing so out of an ulterior motive one comes to perform them lishmah."[11] Moreover, we even find a statement of our sages to the effect that "if a man declares 'this sela [a coin of the talmudic period] be for charity in order that my son may live,' he is completely righteous."[12] Perhaps this saying is to be construed as sarcastic in intent but, even if we understand it as a straightforward utterance, it can hardly be taken as consonant with the true intent of the Mitzvah of charity. As against such remarks, which condone the service of God for ulterior reasons, we find vehement denunciations of such worship. Thus it is contended that only Torah lishmah is a life potion to man, while "he who occupies himself with Torah not for its own sake - it becomes poison to him."[13] Whoever regards the service of God as a means for fulfilling his wishes - be they "life, children, or nutrition" or the satisfaction of an emotional need ("a prayer of the afflicted when he is overwhelmed and pours out his complaint before the God") - is seeking his own advantage and not applying himself to the service of God. Even observance of the Torah for the purpose of expediting redemption falls under the category of Torah that is not lishmah. Perhaps this was already the meaning of the harsh words ending the prophecies of Hosea: "for the ways of the Lord are right, and the just shall walk in them: but the transgressors shall stumble therein." "Therein" - in the ways of God! Care must be taken in how one follows the ways of God.

Two thousand years, and perhaps more, after the prophet uttered these words, we find in the confession of transgressions listed in the Sephardic prayer book for the Days of Awe: "We performed Mitzvoth not for the sake of Heaven." The performance of Mitzvoth (!) not for the sake of heaven is perceived as a transgression in need of atonement.

Now that we have tried to understand the difference between the first part of Shema and the part of "if you will hearken," let us revert to Shema as a whole and attempt to plumb the depth of its meaning. There is no doubt but that it centers on the great injunction "and you shall love." But what is the meaning of the "love of God" when it isdemanded of human consciousness? "Love" is a constituent of consciousness and one of the natural tendencies of man. It is as manyfaceted as are its variegated objects, all of which are presented to him in sensation, conception, or imagination. A man may love himself, a woman, wealth, or honor. He loves his country and may love cake topped with whipped cream: anything he senses, conceives, or imagines. Is it appropriate to apply the human category of "love" to man's relation to that which is not given in sensation, conception, or imagination? Seeing it as a human phenomenon, we are capable of understanding a pagan's love for his idols, which he can envisage with his senses. We can also understand the love of a Christian for his lord, who is a human figure. But how can one love God who is not conceivable in terms of any attributes and is analogous to nothing whatsoever? What is the meaning of the austere demand presented in Shema to the believing Jew? Does it have any meaning in terms of human categories?

The Torah spoke in language spoken by men.[14] In this tongue it conveys notions whose meaning cannot truly be rendered in such a manner. The unintelligible verse "and you shall love the Lord your God" is elucidated through its sequel: "And these words which I command you this day should be in your heart." The acceptance of the yoke of Torah and Mitzvoth is the love of God, and it is this that constitutes faith in God. Man's faith in a God who eludes all predication of attributes and the love he bears for a God who cannot be imagined can only mean the readiness of man to serve God by observing his Torah and its precepts. This must be explicitly stated in order to remove the error afflicting the naive (or those who feign naïveté), who contend that one can separate faith from religion; that faith is one thing, and religion, in the sense of the institutional system of Torah and Mitzvoth, another; that, when faith and religion appear together, adherence to Torah and Mitzvoth is a kind of superstructure built upon faith; and that there could be a belief in God unaccompanied by the observance of the commandments. To them one may retort: who is the God you "believe in"? If it is not a pagan idol or the Christian deity, but rather "the Lord He is the God" (as in the profession of faith elicited by the prophet Elijah and repeated yearly at the end of the Day of Atonement), without shape or figure - then there is no other content to the faith in God and the love of God than the assumption of the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven, which is the yoke of Torah and Mitzvoth. The Lord is giver of the Torah, and the belief in him is man's acknowledgment of the obligation to abide by the Torah. Since the Mitzvoth have no utilitarian significance and are not intended to satisfy human needs, their observance by man is an act of sheer love. Take away the obligation to perform the commandments from the faith in the God of Judaism and it turns into a belief in the Platonic demiurge or in a supervisor of world affairs who, from his seat in heaven, pulls strings on earth. Such a conception might be of cosmological interest, but it is devoid of religious content. Hegel, whose position between atheism and Christianity is difficult to determine, said, "if there is no world, God is no God." But in our prayerbook we find "Lord of the universe, who reigned before anything was created," and also "You were before the world was created and are since its creation." The world and all it contains are insignificant before God.

The meaning of the relation between "and you shall love" and "these words which I command you" in the first paragraph, and of the relation between this portion and the one beginning "if you will hearken," are illuminated by the addition of the third portion, the one about Tsitsith, to these two paragraphs. This portion is concerned with remembering and doing. It explicitly directs attention not to the subject of God and man, but to the issue of Mitzvoth and man ("and remember all the commandments of the Lord and fulfill them"; "To the end that you may bear in mind and perform all my commandments"). Remembrance is a matter of the heart, and one might suppose that it could be conjoined with "faith" and "love" in the abstract sense of these terms; but Scripture makes clear that remembrances means nothing other than the performance of the Mitzvoth. The remembrance of God exists in the consciousness of the believer on one of two planes: that of Shema (faith lishmah), and that of "if you will hearken" (faith not-lishmah but in God as the supreme minister of finance, health, and security). However, the man who remembers God on the level of Shema and the one who remembers Him in the sense of "If you will hearken" are both obligated to perform the Mitzvoth.

The end of the portion relating to Tsitsith, with which the reading of Shema ends, brings forth a notion which is specifically religious: the notion of holiness, "and be holy." This notion has no meaning outside the domain of religious faith. Although it has penetrated into everyday secular usage, as in the sentence: "the memory of my late mother is sacred to me," in such contexts the expression is merely an emotionally charged figure of speech. Originally, and in its authentic sense, "holy", refers to God. Hence it is not amenable to explication in terms derived from ordinary discourse, and it cannot be applied to anything that exists as part of the world. In human reality the category of holiness cannot be applied except as indicating an activity which is directed toward "the Holy" and connoting the service of God, the performance of the Mitzvoth. It signifies both the goal toward which we must strive, and the striving itself. But it does not denote any existing entity. Within the confines of human reality there is only functional holiness. Essential holiness pertains to God alone. Whoever applies the notion of holiness to a natural or artificial being - to man, land, an institution, a building, or an object - is engaging in idolatry. He thereby exalts that object or fact to the rank of divinity. This is the great significance of the demand set forth in the Tsitsith: "To the end that you may bear in mind and perform all my commandments and be holy." Man is not intrinsically holy; his holiness is not already existing and realized in him. It is rather incumbent upon him to achieve it. But the task is eternal. It can never be fulfilled except through a never-ending effort.

At this point it is appropriate to quote one of the greatest Torah scholars of recent generations, a man of true piety who devoted profound thought to the subject of faith, Rabbi Meir Simhah Cohen of Dwinsk, the author of Meshekh Hokhmah.[15] The contention that "there is nothing holy in the world... Only God, exalted be His name, is holy, and He alone is worthy of glory and worship" is repeated frequently and with great emphasis in his book: for example, "There is no holiness in any creature; only in the Creator, blessed be He"; "AII holy things - the land of Israel, Jerusalem, the Temple Mount, the Temple, the Tablets, are not intrinsically holy, and they are not sanctified except by the performance of the Mitzvoth." Consequently, when Jews repudiate the Torah and violate the Mitzvoth, they are all deprived of holiness and become profane. He makes this point insistently: "Do not imagine that the mountain is a holy thing"; "That they should not suppose that there is a sanctity inhering in the building itself"; "and do not imagine that the Tabernacle and the Temple are things holy unto themselves." Other passages in the same vein may be found in the work. It is as though he foresaw that "religious" Jews, fifty years after his death, would degrade and violate the notion of "holiness" by taking advantage of it as camouflage for the satisfaction of human needs and interests, whether private or collective.

It would seem that the Torah wanted to illustrate the profound significance of "holiness" for faith in placing the story of Qorah immediately after the portion of Tsitsith. Only three verses separate the great programmatic affirmation of faith by Moses ("and you will be holy") from the programmatic statement of faith by Qorah: "all the congregation are holy" - holiness being regarded by him not as an end whose achievement is demanded, but as already given, established, and residing in the people as they are. The great notion of holiness is thus desecrated and given a pagan connotation.

[1]The opening words of the Tractate Berakhoth, the first tractate of the Mishnah – Ed.

[2]Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto, Mesillat Yesharim, The Path of the Upright, critical edition and translation by Mordecai M. Kaplan (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society).

[3]The Shema consists of three portions: Deut. 6:4-9; Deut. 11:13-21; Num. 15:37-41 – Ed.

[4]B.T. Berakhoth 61b.

[5]Aher, meaning "other" or "another", was the appellation given Elisha ben Abuyah after he ceased observing the Mitzvoth – Ed.

[6]The following works of Maimonides are used as the main sources: Commentary on the Mishnah, introduction to the tenth (in some editions the eleventh) chapter of Tractate Sanhedrin; Mishneh Torah: Book of Knowledge, "Laws of Repetance," chap. 10; Guide of the Perplexed, III 23 (job!), 27-28, and above all chapters 51 ("remark") and 52.

[7]The citations are taken from Maimonides, Guide III 52, p.630.

[8]The reference to Abraham's faith and the statement that one must aspire to attain this way of serving God appear in Maimonides' introduction to the tenth chapter of Sanhedrin – Ed.

[9]Ibid.

[10]Maimonides, Guide III 51, p.622.

[11]Maimonides, Mishneh Torah: Book of Knowledge, english translation bo Moses Hyamson (Jerusalem: Boystown Press, 1962), "Laws of Repetance," X,5. The passege, in its entirety, places the quotation in proper perspective from Maimonides' stand-point: "Whoever engages in the study of Torah in order that he may receive an award or avoid calamities is not studying the Torah for its own sake. Whoever occupies himself with the Torah neither out of fear nor for the sake of recompense, but solely out of love for the Lord of the whole Earth, who rejoined us to do so, is occupied with the Torah for its ownsake [lishma]. The Sages, however, said 'one should always engage in the study of the Torah, even if not for its own sake'." The statement, as phrased in the author's text, is the wording of the current versions of B.T. Pesahim 50b, which Maimonides is quoting – Ed.

[12]B.T. Peshaim 7a.

[13]B.T. Ta'anith 7a.

[14]B.T. Berakhoth 31b; literally: "the Torah spoke in the language of human kind" – Ed.

[15]Rabbi Meir Simhah Cohen (1842-1926) was rabbi of Dwinsk (Dinaburg in Latvia) from 1886 to his death. Meshekh Hokhmah is a book of homiletical and halakhic comments on the Pentatuech. The statements cited occur at various points in this work. Most of them are to be found in the glosses on Exodus 19 and 32 – Ed.