Shemos: Two Views of Hishtadlus

Intended to write a short dvar Torah article about Yocheved as model of bitachon (trust in Hashem), but I ended up writing out my entire "hishtadlus rant."

Jan 17, 2025

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Rabbi Reuven Mann once remarked that for many Jews, the act of turning to Hashem in prayer is no different than a child making a wish over his birthday candles. That imagery has stuck with me ever since, and is what comes to mind when I think of the popular view of hishtadlus.

Shemos: Two Views of Hishtadlus

Preface: The thoughts expressed here do not stem from a comprehensive investigation of how the term hishtadlus is used in the relevant literature. Rather, the view of hishtadlus I critique here is one I have frequently encountered among my students and other frum Jews—a view that is not consistent with the writings of the Rishonim and Acharonim I have studied, which form the basis of my understanding of Judaism. Whether or not this perspective has roots in classical sources is not the focus of this discussion. My primary concern is the damage this popular view can cause to our relationship with Hashem.

The term hishtadlus frequently arises in contemporary discussions about bitachon (trust, security in, or reliance on God). The root שׁ.ד.ל (SH.D.L.) does not appear in Biblical Hebrew but first emerges in Rabbinic Hebrew. According to the Klein Dictionary, it derives from an Aramaic or Syriac root meaning “soothe,” “cajole,” or “allure,” and is linguistically related to the root שׁ.ד.ר (SH.D.R.), meaning “to strive.” In modern usage, hishtadlus is most accurately translated as “striving,” “making an effort,” or “exerting oneself.”

Within the context of bitachon, “hishtadlus” refers to the idea that we cannot passively rely on Hashem but must actively take initiative. While Chazal did not use the word hishtadlus in this sense, many of their teachings embody the concept. For instance, Rashi (Bereishis 32:9, citing Tanchuma Yashan) famously explains that Yaakov Avinu didn’t merely pray to Hashem and hope for the best; he took active steps to secure the best possible outcome by sending gifts to appease his brother and preparing for war. R’ Yishmael (contrasted with R’ Shimon bar Yochai in Berachos 35b) teaches that one must work for a living rather than expecting Hashem to provide without effort. The principle of ein somchin al ha’neis (we do not rely on a miracle) is taught in numerous places (Shabbos 32a, Pesachim 64b, Taanis 20b, and others). These are just a few examples illustrating this principle.

I have no issue with the concept of hishtadlus itself. As far as I can tell, it has a firm basis in the mainstream view among Jewish theologians, despite their nuanced differences. My concern lies with how people often speak about hishtadlus. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard phrases like, “You need to do your hishtadlus!” or “You’ve gotta put in your hishtadlus!” or, worse, the English slogan, “Do your best, and God will do the rest.” My objection isn’t that these formulations encourage a misguided course of action. Rather, I oppose them because they foster magical thinking that undermines our reverence for Hashem by diminishing the glory of His creation.

This popular framing of hishtadlus appeals to a simplistic and almost childish way of thinking about the universe and our role within it: as though our chief aim is to performatively demonstrate our trust in Hashem, prompting Him to recognize our sincerity and reward us by granting our wishes. But that’s not how Hashem operates, because it’s not the nature of the world He created or the nature He instilled in us to navigate it.

Mishlei (3:19) states, “Hashem founded the earth with wisdom [and] established the heavens with understanding.” Tehilim (92:6) declares, “How great are Your works, Hashem! You made them all with wisdom.” Yirmiyahu (10:12) proclaims, “He makes the earth by His power, He establishes the world by His wisdom, and by His understanding, He has stretched forth the heavens.” These and other verses emphasize that Hashem created the universe with wisdom. The true concept of hishtadlus isn’t about proving our worthiness to Hashem by demonstrating the extent of our effort. It’s about aligning ourselves with the natural order He designed to foster our growth and success. The fixation on “striving” places undue emphasis on human effort and a direct Divine response, detracting from the kavod Hashem (glory of God) inherent in the natural order—the glory that moved David ha’Melech to exclaim: “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament declares His handiwork” (Tehilim 19:2).

To illustrate this critique, let us set aside the issue of bitachon and examine an everyday example of how our efforts combine with Hashem’s governance of the world to produce the results we seek. Consider two ways of viewing the act of striking a match to produce a flame. The first perspective:

When a match head is dragged across the striking surface, friction converts mechanical energy into heat—just enough to trigger a cascade of chemical reactions. Red phosphorus on the striking tip initiates the process, converting part of it into white phosphorus and generating heat, while potassium chlorate releases oxygen to fuel the reaction. Sulfur and antimony sulfide then combine with this oxygen, producing a self-sustaining flame that quickly ignites the wooden stick. The simple act of striking a match unleashes the incredible forces of physics and the elemental principles of chemistry, providing a glimpse into the Creator’s wisdom embedded in the natural order of His universe.

The second perspective:

Hashem won’t just give you fire. You’ve got to do your hishtadlus by striking a match, and then He’ll make the fire for you. Do your best, and Hashem will do the rest!

Which of these perspectives deepens our yiras Hashem (awe of God) and ahavas Hashem (love of God) by encouraging us to reflect on His chochmah and beneficence, and which one traps us in a simplistic, magical view of cause-and-effect? Which perspective enhances our appreciation of the Creator—Who endowed us with a tzelem Elokim (truth-seeking intellect), gave us bechirah (free will), and placed us in a world He declared tov meod (exceedingly good) (Bereishis 1:31), charging us with the mission to use our minds and will to access the blessings He has granted us—and which one reduces our relationship with Hashem to the childish notion that if we just show “Tatty” how much we want it, He’ll be moved to give it to us?

With this framework in mind, we can better understand how hishtadlus functions in the context of bitachon. A prime example of this is Yocheved, the mother of Moshe Rabbeinu, whose actions demonstrate the profound balance between human effort and trust in Hashem:

A man from the house of Levi went and took a daughter of Levi. The woman conceived and bore a son; she saw that he was good, and she hid him for three months. When she could no longer hide him, she took a papyrus basket for him and covered it with tar and with pitch. She placed the child in it and placed it in the reeds on the bank of the river. His sister stationed herself at a distance to know what would be done to him. (Shemos 2:1-4)

Ralbag (ibid., Toalos) explains Yocheved’s thought process and the lesson we can derive from her actions:

The first lesson [we learn] is in character traits, namely, that it is not proper for a person to be lax in striving (hishtadlus) for salvation to the extent possible, even if the misfortune is such that one thinks it unlikely that salvation can be achieved. Behold, you see that when Moshe’s mother saw that she could no longer hide her son, she did not let her hands slacken in striving (me’hishtadel) to save him to the best of her ability. For this reason, she placed him in the reeds by the bank of the river inside the basket she had prepared for him to escape the danger of drowning. The basket was concealed among the reeds there so that no one would see it. And even though he couldn’t survive there without food, she did not refrain from placing him there in order to delay his death by some measure of time. Perhaps during that time, some assistance would turn up for her from this crisis, or [perhaps] she would be able to go there at night to nurse him. For this reason, his sister stationed herself at a distance to find out what would happen to him, because if someone were to find him, perhaps through her good effort (hashtadlusah ha’tov) she could ensure that he would not be harmed.

Ralbag references hishtadlus three times, but the concept he describes is far removed from its popular portrayal. It’s not that Yocheved “put in her hishtadlus” and awaited a result from Hashem, like inserting a coin into a vending machine. Rather, Yocheved used her mind to analyze the situation, differentiating between what was in her control and what was not. She assessed her options and weighed their risks. She took heroic action—not merely to demonstrate her effort, but because that is how physical beings engage with the physical world Hashem created. She set up contingency plans—not as an act of “striving,” but to maximize her chances of success in reality. And succeed she did—not because her hishtadlus “moved” Hashem to act, but because she used her God-given chochmah and bechirah to act effectively within the natural world Hashem designed. In short, she exemplified the two-pronged approach taught by Shlomo ha’Melech: “One who undertakes a matter intelligently will find good [success], and one who trusts in Hashem is praiseworthy” (Mishlei 16:20; cf. Metzudas David).

One might object to this model, claiming it removes Hashem from the picture. I say: on the contrary! This perspective is the only way to fully appreciate Hashem’s role in our lives. Consider another everyday example: which reflects a greater recognition of Hashem? Someone who sees His role as ha’Motzi lechem min ha’aretz (“He Who brings forth bread from the earth”) through the natural laws He created, feels gratitude for being endowed with the ability to engage in the sidura d’pas (the sequence of crafts and skills involved in breadmaking), and appreciates asher yatzar es ha’adam b’chochmah (“that He fashioned man with wisdom”), granting him the capacity to transform baked bread into sustenance for the body—or someone who views eating food as simply “doing their hishtadlus” and interprets the result as a “reward” for their effort?

The most explicit expression of this concept I’ve seen in the Rishonim is found in R’ Avraham ben ha’Rambam’s chapter on bitachon in Ha’Maspik l’Ovdei Hashem. He begins his discourse on bitachon with the following preface:

Now I will direct your attention to a concept you must acquire before achieving bitachon, if your bitachon is to be genuine, not illusory. It is incumbent upon you to know that Hashem created the world and set it up based on [a system of] cause and effect, and He appointed for each outcome a series of preliminary steps. For example, Hashem – with His might – [decreed] that the continued existence of man in this lower world should be contingent upon nourishment, and that nourishment may come from animals, vegetation, or both. Even the animals that nourish us receive most of their sustenance from vegetation, so a person’s sustenance ultimately depends on vegetation. The vegetation comes about through earth, water, air, and fire. The fire is the ripening heat that reaches the earth through the sun’s rays. The water that wets the vegetation comes from rain, dew, and other moisture … Rain comes from thick vapors that rise from the depth of the earth and mix with other elements in the clouds ... This mist, in turn, rises because of the movement of the elements and the blowing of the wind. [The wind] depends on God’s will and desire … Consequently, rain comes from Hashem … The absence of rain is also from God … Likewise, all natural causes are attributed to Him – “and the causes are prepared by Him” (I Shmuel 2:3).

R’ Avraham then divides all people into three groups based on how they relate to these natural systems. The first group consists of “uncivilized ignoramuses” who hunt and gather for their food but lack any sophisticated understanding of the chochmah manifest in nature. The second group comprises those “who have delved into the sciences and understand the causes and causal principles of each thing,” some of whom “have even discovered the existence of the First Cause, Hashem.” However, this group rejects hashgachah pratis (individual providence).

The third group is what concerns us here. R’ Avraham distinguishes between the true members of the third group and (what I call) the “counterfeit” members, who are excluded. Of the latter, he writes:

Such people, who claim to be on the highest level of mankind, avoid contemplation of the [natural] causes of phenomena and thereby are ignorant of them, or most of them. Through emotion or through tradition, they know of the existence of the First Cause, Hashem. In their view, thought and contemplation of the [natural] means He uses will lead them to deny His works and the foundations of His Torah, as occurred with the heretical philosophers and their followers. [The members of this counterfeit third group] believe that the proper religious doctrine is to not believe in causes and the intermediate cause-and-effect aspects of God’s actions. Consequently, they remain ignorant of the principles of nature and they come to deny principles that are validated by the intellect, and even phenomena experienced by the senses. They maintain that this is the requisite faith of the Torah and that only through such faith can a servant of Hashem properly have bitachon in Him. For this reason, they have earned the mockery and derision among men of understanding. If a distinguished and learned Jew holds such a belief, then I and any fair-minded person consider this to be a substantial desecration of Hashem’s Name.

The overly simplistic view of hishtadlus in relation to bitachon resembles the flawed perspective of the members of the “counterfeit” third group castigated by R’ Avraham above. Both paradigms shift the emphasis away from intellectual engagement with the natural world towards a focus on intention. In the case of the counterfeit third group, this shift is overt and deliberate. In the popular view of hishtadlus, however, the shift is subtle and often goes unnoticed, making it all the more insidious.

In contrast, the bitachon of the members of the real third group is rooted in their recognition of nature:

On the other hand, the adherents of Torah who understand the Torah do contemplate the [natural] causes and think about them in the same manner as the members of the second group—those who are enlightened and scientific—and are not inferior to them in any way. To the contrary, they understand as much as other students of natural science do and merit honor and prestige from them. But Hashem, through His Torah, teaches them concepts beyond the comprehension of those scholars and philosophers. He provides them with signs and miracles which [testify] to that which the others deny: His knowledge of particulars, His awareness of people’s situations, and His hashgachah pratis over each and every person, which is commensurate with the person’s merit—just as His hashgachah governs each species within the natural world, as His wisdom and will determined.
These wise ones understand from their study of the Torah and the accounts of Hashem’s prophets and servants that although there is [a system] of interconnected causes, Hashem is the One Who activates and determines cause and effect. By His will the causes follow their natural patterns, and by His will they deviate from their natural patterns and become transformed … Thus, these people depend on a First Cause, Who is the Cause of all causes, and is thus called, “the Rock of worlds” (Yeshayahu 26:4), blessed is His Name. They know that all causes are traceable to His doing, function according to the decrees of His will, and are subservient to His desire. Therefore, they cling to this principle and keep it in their awareness. They do not allow themselves to be shaken from it by their scientific studies … or by involvement in worldly endeavors, such as travel, commerce, health maintenance, and the process of recovery from illness.

Although it is not his intention, R’ Avraham provides us with a diagnostic test to evaluate our progress in developing bitachon. The question is this: Are we cultivating a deeper recognition of natural law and Hashem’s role in the natural world as part of our decision-making, or are we turning away from rational and scientific thought, retreating instead into a world where our focus is solely on our feelings toward Hashem, without seeking to investigate and appreciate the world He created?

In summary, there are two views of hishtadlus: a naïve view, which regards the effort itself as the key to unlocking a Divine response, and a mature view, which sees hishtadlus as the natural way a rational being must act in a physical world governed by Hashem’s systems of cause and effect. According to the naïve view, thinking about nature detracts from bitachon because it impedes the ability to fully place hope in Hashem. According to the mature view, true bitachon requires us to fully engage our intellect to study Hashem’s world, make the best decisions we can, and recognize Hashem as the ultimate Cause of all the natural causes we rely on.

Like Yocheved, we cannot know for certain whether our efforts will succeed. This is the paradox of bitachon: we must rely on our minds to the fullest extent possible, yet surrender all certainty and security in the outcome we desire, recognizing that the ultimate result is determined by Hashem.

What do you think? Do you agree with my assessment and critique of the popular view of hishtadlus? Do you think I have an accurate read on it? Is my evaluation of its detrimental consequences overblown? Let me know in the comments!

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