The Radical Art of Jewish Faith: Why Distraction in Prayer Might Be a Good Thing

The Radical Art of Jewish Faith: Why Distraction in Prayer Might Be a Good Thing

The Silent Struggle for Connection

In the quiet moments we set aside for spiritual connection, the mind can often feel like a battlefield. We attempt to pray or meditate, only to be flooded with distracting thoughts—anxieties about work, fragments of conversations, a persistent sense of spiritual dryness. It’s a common, modern struggle: the feeling of a disconnect when we are trying hardest to connect.

What if these moments of distraction weren't a sign of failure, but a signal of something deeper at work? What if the very foundation of faith, or Emuna in Hebrew, is not about silencing the noise, but finding God within it? This exploration delves into the profound and often counter-intuitive teachings on Emuna from the masters of Jewish mysticism, revealing it not as a passive belief system, but as an active, life-altering practice.

Key Highlights

• Emuna is an active "duty of the heart," not just passive intellectual agreement. It is a form of inner work that requires conscious intention and precedes all external actions.

• Distracting thoughts during prayer are a sign of spiritual potency, not failure. Mystical teachings explain this as the forces of impurity attempting to thwart a prayer that has the power to ascend and create real change.

• The central practice of faith is finding the "good points" in yourself and others. By seeking out and focusing on even a single good deed or quality, you can shift your entire spiritual reality and feel God's presence constantly.

• True faith enables a life "above nature." This is a state of profound trust (Bitachon) where one relies on God's providence rather than being solely dependent on natural cause and effect for one's sustenance and well-being.

• The highest spiritual levels are attainable by anyone through effort and choice. Contrary to the idea that spiritual greatness is a birthright of lofty souls, the sources insist that it is a direct result of personal deeds and the will to serve God.

  
  

A Deeper Dive into Emuna: An Inner Journey

1. Redefining Faith: From Static Belief to Active Service

The journey into Emuna begins by reframing it. In Jewish thought, faith is not a passive intellectual state but an active commandment, an inner service as obligatory as any physical ritual. The classic work Duties of the Heart categorizes belief as one of the "positive commandments of the duties of the heart," asserting that the value of any action is entirely dependent on the inner intention behind it.

"whoever performs a religious duty but did not intend to do it for the sake of G-d - he will not receive reward for it."

This principle of inner devotion is given a powerful mystical expression by the Ba'al Shem Tov, the founder of Hasidut. He interprets the verse "Make an opening [tzohar] for the ark [teivah]" by noting that the Hebrew word teivah means both "ark" and "word." The command, he teaches, is to illuminate the words of prayer and Torah by entering into them with one's entire being. This is not a detached recitation but a total immersion, because each letter possesses a cosmic reality. As his teaching explains, "For in every letter there are worlds, souls and divinity, that rise up and interconnect and cleave to one another and to the divine." The act of prayer is thus a profound unification, binding these components together and elevating them, and it demands the full force of one's consciousness.

"Go into the ark [teivah], you and all your household." (Genesis 7:1) -- this means that with all your body and strengths, you shall enter the word [teivah]!

True faith, therefore, is not something you have, but something you do with your innermost consciousness. It is the fundamental, active service of the heart upon which all external service rests.

2. The Battleground of the Mind: Finding Faith in the Face of Distraction

Perhaps the most common frustration in the life of prayer is the intrusion of "foreign thoughts." Just as one attempts to focus, the mind wanders to business accounts, daily worries, or random memories. The Ba'al Shem Tov offers a radical, counter-intuitive perspective on this phenomenon: these thoughts are actually a good sign.

He explains this with a detailed parable: a human king is protected by many guards. If a lowly, unimportant person tries to approach with a request, the guards let him pass, knowing the king will pay him no mind. However, if an important minister, whose request is likely to be granted, tries to enter, the guards will muster all their strength to block him. So too in prayer. The "evil side," the forces of impurity, ignores the prayers of a "lowly person" because they lack spiritual potency. But when a "godfearing person whose prayer has roots above" begins to pray, the evil side musters all its strength to confound them with foreign thoughts precisely because that prayer has the power to ascend and create real change.

Prayer is therefore a "battle" where one must fight to bind these distracting thoughts to their holy root. The correct response is not despair, but to recognize the spiritual potency of the moment and cry out with renewed intensity, "Father! Save me!" This insight is echoed in Duties of the Heart, which explains that the yetzer hara (evil inclination) will deliberately try to distract a person with worldly matters like business accounts precisely during moments of profound spiritual focus.

3. The Practical Engine of Emuna: The Art of Seeing Good

If distraction is the problem, the primary solution is an active, disciplined practice of seeking goodness. The teachings of Likutei Halakhot, based on the work of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, establish a core principle: one must judge oneself and others favorably by actively searching for "good points."

This teaching is built upon a foundational axiom: it is an impossibility for any person, throughout their entire life, to have never done a single good thing or possessed a single good quality. This one point, however small or buried, becomes the anchor for spiritual revival. By finding and focusing on this singular point of goodness, a person can shift their entire self-perception from one of failure to one of potential, and in doing so, feel God's presence.

"...I am always placing and setting HaShem right in front of my eyes. Even though according to my spiritual standing I am far from Him, HaShem is nevertheless “before me always,” everywhere—because I find in myself a good point."

This practice is not merely a psychological trick; it is a form of spiritual construction with cosmic implications. By gathering these good points, the Tzaddikim (righteous leaders) metaphorically build a Mishkan (a holy sanctuary). The source text explains this mechanism: "by gathering up all the good points, each of the tzaddikim of the generation constructs a mishkan... By revealing the good points of the Jewish souls identified with his own soul, each tzaddik constructs this mishkan." The work of the Tzaddik is thus a communal act, building a sacred space within reality from the collective goodness of the people, creating a vessel for the Divine Presence to manifest.

4. Living by Faith: The Two Paths of Existence

The Ba'al Shem Tov, in a teaching recorded in Ben Porat Yosef, outlines two fundamental ways a person can live. The first is according to nature: one plows, sows, and harvests, relying on the predictable chain of cause and effect for sustenance. The second is a path "above nature."

But the righteous person shall live by his faith (Habakkuk 2:4)

This second path is a state of profound trust, or Bitachon, where one relies directly on God's providence. It is not about abandoning effort, but about shifting one's core reliance from natural processes to the Divine source that underpins them. This trust is the natural and ultimate outcome of a life lived with Emuna.

The Duties of the Heart explains how this state of trust fundamentally transforms one's relationship with the material world. For a person who lives with Bitachon, wealth is merely a tool for fulfilling one's obligations to God and others with a generous spirit. Conversely, a lack of wealth is seen as a divine favor, sparing one from the "mental distraction of protecting and managing it." In either state, the person remains serene, anchored in the belief that their circumstances are precisely what is needed for their spiritual service.

5. A Choice, Not a Birthright: The Accessibility of Greatness

Faced with such lofty spiritual concepts, it is easy to feel intimidated, to believe that such heights are reserved for special, elevated souls. The masters of this tradition argue vehemently against this idea. Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, a great-grandson of the Ba'al Shem Tov, insisted that his own immense spiritual achievements were not a result of his lineage but of his own relentless effort.

He taught that the path of faith and spiritual greatness is not a birthright but a choice, available to every single person.

“Every man can attain the highest level. It depends on nothing except your own free choice. You must truly care about yourself and carefully decide what is truly good for you. For, 'Everything depends on one's deeds' (Avot 3:15)."

Emuna, in its deepest sense, is therefore a universal path. It is not predetermined by the quality of one's soul at birth, but forged through conscious choice, consistent effort, and the unwavering will to serve God in every moment.

Frequently Asked Questions

What is the practical difference between Emuna (faith) and Bitachon (trust)?

Emuna is the foundational belief and inner "duty of the heart" to acknowledge the existence of the Creator and His active providence in the world. It is the intellectual and emotional bedrock. Bitachon, as described in Ben Porat Yosef, is the active application of that Emuna. It is the practice of living "above nature," relying on God for one's sustenance and well-being rather than being exclusively dependent on natural means. In short, Emuna is the belief, and Bitachon is the act of living by that belief.

How can distracting thoughts during prayer possibly be a good thing? It feels like failure.

According to the parable from the Ba'al Shem Tov, the intensity of distraction is a direct measure of the spiritual power of your prayer. The "evil side," or forces of impurity, only invests significant energy in disrupting prayers that are potent and have the ability to ascend and effect real change. A weak or disingenuous prayer is ignored. Therefore, experiencing intense distraction is a sign that your prayer is important and on the verge of being effective, which should encourage you to double your efforts rather than despair.

What if I genuinely can't find any "good points" in myself?

The teaching in Likutei Halakhot is adamant that it is impossible for a person to have never done anything good in their entire life. The spiritual work is to search diligently for that one point, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant it may be. That single good deed or quality becomes the foundation upon which you can begin to judge yourself favorably, revive your spirit, and reconnect to God.

Does this approach reject logic and reason in favor of blind faith?

No, the sources do not advocate for a rejection of reason. Duties of the Heart explicitly states that the duties of the heart are "rooted in rational principles" and encourages rational inquiry to make faith "tangibly clear." However, it warns against two pitfalls: relying only on one's own intellect, as some divine commandments are beyond human logic; and, for those not deeply grounded in Torah, the danger of getting lost in philosophical inquiries that can lead one astray. The goal is a faith that is both intellectually grounded and transcendent.

Why is confession before a Torah sage mentioned as a necessary part of this process?

Based on Likutei Moharan, verbal confession before a talmid chacham (Torah sage) is presented as the specific spiritual mechanism for repairing and elevating Malkhut, which is the aspect of Divine Sovereignty in the world. When one sins, one has, in essence, asserted one's own sovereignty against God's. The act of verbal confession is an externalization of repentance that formally returns one's personal "sovereignty" to God, thereby rectifying the spiritual damage at its root.

The First Step on an Endless Journey

Emuna emerges not as a static state of belief to be achieved, but as a dynamic, lifelong practice of seeing, thinking, and acting. It is an inner discipline that transforms challenges into opportunities and reorients our entire perception of reality. The journey involves paradigm shifts: seeing the chaos of a distracted mind as a call to action, actively mining for the good hidden within ourselves and others, and understanding that the highest spiritual achievements are not a gift of birth but the product of a conscious and determined choice. This path is open to all who are willing to walk it.

If faith is not a destination but a practice of seeing, what one good point can you find today to begin building your own inner sanctuary?

Gratitude as Spiritual Nervous System Repair

Gratitude gets spoken about so often that many women roll their eyes before they even begin. Yet hakarat hatov (recognizing the good) is far deeper than a pleasant feeling or a self-help exercise. It is a spiritual skill, a trauma-healing doorway, and a practice of returning the soul to HaShem’s embrace.

The Meor Einayim teaches that every spark of goodness we perceive is actually a spark of Divine light rising inside us. He writes that the heart awakens through the light hidden within each moment, meaning the moment itself becomes a messenger of HaShem’s nearness (מאור עינים) . This reveals that gratitude is not merely noticing something nice but actually perceiving HaShem reaching toward us.

Rebbe Nachman deepens this understanding by explaining that hoda’ah (gratitude) lifts a person from katnut to gadlut, from a constricted mind to an expanded one. In states of depletion, it is easy to believe that our emotional exhaustion is a sign of spiritual failure. Yet gratitude becomes the gentle thread that pulls us back into spaciousness, where breath and hope can enter again.

Your nervous system already understands this truth on a biological level. When you whisper even a small “Todah HaShem,” something inside softens and loosens. A single breath, held with intention, becomes a bridge from overwhelm to connection.

Gratitude does not deny pain; it reorients the soul within it. In trauma-informed language, we might say gratitude creates “micro-moments of safety,” tiny pockets where the body can remember it is not alone. Spiritually, it is the act of turning toward HaShem and saying, “I still see Your kindness, even while I ache.”

The Ramban reminds us that HaShem deals with us with rachamim rabbim (abundant compassion), specifically so we will not be afraid to return to Him (רמב"ן על דברים הקדמה) . His compassion is not dependent on our emotional strength but rests upon His eternal willingness to hold us. When we practice gratitude, we align ourselves with this compassion and allow our hearts to feel supported again.

A Simple Emuna Builders Practice for Embodied Gratitude

Place your hand gently over your heart and inhale for four slow counts. Allow your exhale to release without force, like a sigh after a long day. Whisper softly: “Todah HaShem… for this breath.”

Continue with another breath and speak: “Todah HaShem… for the spark of good in me, even if I cannot feel it yet.” Do not rush this practice, because the body needs time to receive what the soul already knows. Let yourself feel held, supported, and accompanied.

This is not spiritual performance; this is teshuvah (returning), the delicate art of coming back to yourself. Gratitude rebuilds the bridge between who you are and who you long to be. It teaches your inner world that you are safe enough to take the next small step toward wholeness.

Rabbeinu Yonah writes that gratitude is the beginning of teshuvah, because it awakens awareness of the kindnesses HaShem is constantly showering upon us (שערי תשובה א׳) . When you notice the good, you naturally turn toward the One who gives it. The soul remembers what it forgot.

The Heaviest Blessing: When Gratitude Feels Like One More Thing You’re Failing At

The house is finally quiet. The last cup has been rinsed, the last book has been put away, the last little body has been tucked into bed. You sit in the dim light, the silence humming with the ghosts of the day’s demands. You know this is the moment you’re supposed to turn your heart upward, to list your blessings, to feel the swell of gratitude that marks a faithful life. But your heart feels like a stone. Your spiritual well is dry. The thought of mustering one more positive emotion, one more act of devotion, feels less like a comfort and more like a crushing weight. Gratitude, the practice that is meant to lift you up, feels like the heaviest blessing of all, one more thing you are failing at tonight.

1. "My Way Has Been Hidden..."

In the quiet exhaustion of these moments, it’s easy to feel utterly alone, unseen even by the One you serve. The feeling is an ancient one, echoed by the prophet Yeshayahu when he voiced the silent cry of the people: "Why should you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel, “My way has been hidden from the L-rd, and from my G-d, my judgment passes”?" (Yeshayahu 40:27). You feel hidden. Your endless service, your patient love, your silent struggles—it all feels invisible.

This feeling of being in a "raging battlefield," as the sages of Mesillat Yesharim describe it, is not a sign that you are doing something wrong; it is the very nature of our existence. The exhaustion you feel is the natural result of a soul struggling in a material world, because as the Duties of the Heart explains, your spiritual "intellect is a stranger in this world of gross material bodies." This is why life feels like a battlefield: your soul, a spiritual stranger, is constantly embattled by the very real, material demands and worldly trials that are native to this world. It’s no wonder you feel overpowered.

You’re not broken, you’re overextended.

2. What if Gratitude Isn't a Performance?

We have been taught to think of gratitude as a performance, a cheerful list we must present to G-d to prove our faith. But what if this isn’t what He is asking for at all? True, Torah-rooted gratitude is not mere "lip service." We are specifically warned against being among those who honor G-d "with his mouth and with his lips... but he distances his heart from me" (Yeshayahu 29:13).

This is not about earning a reward. The sages in Ethics of the Fathers caution us, "Be not like servants who minister to their master upon the condition of receiving a reward..." (Avot 1:3). Gratitude is not a transaction. It is not something we do to get something back. It is a deep, internal recognition of a goodness that is constant, foundational, and completely unearned.

It is a gentle turning of the heart toward three core truths:

• It is an unearned gift. G-d’s kindness does not begin when we perform correctly. His goodness starts "at the time of the beginning of his formation in the womb of his mother, without him being deserving of it... Rather, it is out of his generosity, goodness and kindness that he does so." Our very existence is the first, unearned gift.

• It is an active trust. Faith and gratitude are not passive feelings. They are, at their core, "the ability to trust life while actively taking the next step." It is trusting that life will educate you, if you engage with it—an active choice to participate, not just a passive waiting for life to happen.

• It is a response to overwhelming goodness. We feel a deep sense of obligation to thank other people for their kindness, even when that help is temporary and often has "a motive of self-interest." How much more, then, are we called to recognize the One whose beneficence is "unlimited, permanent, perpetual, without any motive of self-interest"? Gratitude, then, is not about our performance, but about recognizing His constant and perfect nature.

3. A Gentle Invitation: Find One Mark of Wisdom

If you are too tired to perform, you are not too tired to notice. This is not another task on your list. This is a soft place to land. The Duties of the Heart offers a gentle invitation: "Therefore, contemplate G-d's creations, from the smallest of them to the largest... until the whole matter becomes established in our souls and abides in our consciousness."

You don't need to generate a feeling. You only need to witness one small, true thing. Consider these three whispers of wisdom, already present in your day, drawn from the wellspring of our texts:

1. The Miracle of Nourishment: As you feed a child, or even yourself, take a moment to notice the profound wisdom in the smallest details. Consider that G-d "made the orifice of the nipple like the eye of a needle, not so wide that the milk would run out without suction... nor so narrow that the infant would have to exert itself."

2. The Gift of Compassion: When you feel the weight of caring for another, reflect on the source of that feeling. It is a divine mark that G-d "inspires the parents' hearts with kindness, love and compassion for their offspring, so that raising it is not overly burdensome to them." The love you feel is itself a gift.

3. The Wisdom of Provision: As you prepare a simple meal, look at the food on your table. Consider the wisdom that the things we truly need, like food and water, are abundant and accessible, while non-essentials like "precious stones, gold and silver" are less common because "a human being can do without these things."

The Creator has already placed a guide within you. The Duties of the Heart identifies your own "Understanding" as a "counselor, wise and faithful." Take counsel with it. Allow yourself, just for a moment, to notice one small mark of wisdom. That is enough.

4. You Are Not Doing This Alone

Your exhaustion is seen. Your struggle is understood. It is written, "The L-ord is good to all and His mercies are upon all His creatures," and you, in your weariness, are one of His creatures. You are held within that mercy.

Remember this fundamental truth from Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah: good is primordial, while evil is only a new creation. Because of this intrinsic superiority, in the great war between the holy and the "other side," the outcome is not in doubt. Good "must necessarily be victorious." Your weariness is not a sign of your personal failure; it is the holy friction generated by primordial good reclaiming the world. Your fatigue is the feeling of being on the front lines of a battle whose victorious outcome is guaranteed. This is what it feels like to turn everything back to good.

You are not failing. You are in the very process of returning. Come with me. You don’t have to do this alone.