Mental Health Is a Halachic Priority
It’s worth reminding ourselves that guarding our lives includes guarding our mental health. This isn’t a modern twist on tradition—it’s embedded in our halachic framework. The Shulchan Aruch (OC 328) teaches that one must desecrate Shabbat to save a life, even when the danger is uncertain. The Gemara says that even doubt of pikuach nefesh overrides Shabbat.
This principle applies to mental illness, too. If someone is in emotional crisis, if they are severely depressed or suicidal, we are not only permitted but obligated to act, even on Yom Kippur. We must make the phone call. We must provide the food. We must remove the shame.
Yet, too many people still suffer in silence, afraid their struggles make them spiritually unworthy or religiously lacking. They hesitate to seek help in fear of judgment or misunderstanding. But our tradition doesn’t ask us to suffer to prove our faith. It asks us to choose life.
In Sefer Yoel (2:13), the prophet cries, “Tear your hearts and not your clothing.” Teshuvah is not about theatrics. It’s not about saying the right words or performing rituals without meaning. It’s about honesty: emotional, spiritual and psychological.
The deepest form of teshuvah might not come from the pages of a machzor, but from a whisper in the dark: “I can’t do this alone anymore.”
This isn’t weakness. It’s courage.
The Torah was given to be lived—in this world, in the messiness of human experience. Our sages understood that physical and emotional suffering are real and that our halachah must address the realities of life.
Yet too often, mental health remains hidden in Orthodox circles. We whisper about therapy. We hesitate to mention feelings of anxiety, depression or grief. But these are real. They are as real as any illness.
And pretending otherwise is not piety. It’s denial.
A Torah that lives in this world must address this world. That means supporting each other through struggles, normalizing help-seeking, and training leaders to recognize the signs of mental health crisis.
This High Holiday season, may we all remember:
You don’t have to be perfect to come before G-d.
You don’t need to have it all figured out.
You are allowed to bring your questions, your sadness, your fears.
Because G-d doesn’t ask for perfection. He asks for truth.
And as you stand before Him—however whole or broken you may feel—may you hear in the stillness: “My beloved child, you are enough. Come home.”
May this be a year of healing, of return and of wholeness.
Shanah Tovah U’Metukah.
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1 comment:
Decades ago I wrote that I believed that a person's impression of God is based on his parents. If his parents were indulgent, he sees God as an impotent, all-approving resource provider with no say over his behaviour. If his parents were firm but fair and loving, then He relates to God as a fair and loving Father. And if his parents were angry, nitpicking religious fanatics always looking to find fault with him and condemning him for any shortcoming, then he sees God that way.
We need the middle approach so much to survive Rosh Hashanah.
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