Nothing To Fear But Fear Itself Jan. 24, 2026 6 Shevat

On March 4, 1933, President Franklin D. Roosevelt delivered his first inaugural address. America was in the grip of the Great Depression. Economic activity had stalled. Banks were afraid to lend. Businesses were afraid to expand. The economy had seized up—not from a lack of resources, but from paralysis. Roosevelt identified the real enemy as a “nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror,” and then uttered the words that became iconic: “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.”

Historians will note that Roosevelt did not invent the phrase. Centuries earlier, Montaigne taught that fear of an event often paralyzes us more than the event itself. Roosevelt merely tapped into this timeless truth—and in doing so, gave voice to a nation’s unspoken anxiety. His words became a rallying cry that helped unfreeze a terrified economy.

My dear friends, this idea predates Roosevelt not merely by centuries, but by millennia. Our ancestors knew it well on that fateful day when they stood trapped between a bristling Egyptian army and the roiling Red Sea.

Angels Protest

Our sages taught that as the Jews crossed to safety and the Egyptians drowned, the angels protested: “These and those both serve idols—why do You save these and strike those?”

It is true that many Jews had absorbed the pagan culture of Egypt and worshipped idols during their long exile. Yet a piercing question emerges—one that should make the heavens tremble. What do angels know of human suffering? From their serene celestial abode, where pain and fear are unknown, they dared to condemn traumatized slaves for their failures of faith?

Was that all they could see? Did they not see oppressors and the oppressed? Could they not feel the terror of a broken people fleeing for their lives? Would those lofty angels have fared any better had theybeen thrust into brutal bondage for 210 years, with G-d hidden and silent? How dare they?

And besides, the accusation seemed factually flawed. Only days earlier, the Jews had offered the Paschal sacrifice. They publicly rejected paganism, circumcised themselves, and declared allegiance to the G-d of Israel. Moses made it clear: no one could partake of the offering unless they renounced idolatry. The courage this required was staggering—life-altering. And yet, the angels called them idol worshippers? Did they not grasp the magnitude of this transformation?

Caving In to Fear

The answer is as astonishing as the question is unsettling.

The Jews were not guilty of worshipping stone statues or porcelain gods. Their idolatry was far subtler—and far more familiar. It is something we ourselves succumb to from time to time.

They feared the Egyptians.

Roosevelt was right: fear itself is the real enemy. And fear itself was their failure.

Fear is natural. When you are cornered, and your enemy advances with weapons drawn, fear is human. Only fools feel no fear. Even courage does not erase fear; it overcomes it.

But not for a true believer.

If you genuinely believe that G-d governs your life, then you know that no enemy can harm you unless G-d wills it. The danger may feel terrifyingly real, but it is ultimately powerless. It is like watching a horror movie from the safety of your couch—your heart races, but your life is never in danger. Your emotions simply haven’t caught up with reality.

In reality, the Jews did not perish that day. G-d saved them. A people who had just lived through an unbroken chain of miracles should have known that G-d had their back. And if you truly believe, then your only concern is that G-d’s will be done. If He wills life, you will live. If He wills death, you will die. Either way, you can be at peace—because G-d knows what He is doing.

This does not mean passivity. Passivity would presume that G-d does not want you to act. G-d may want you to survive by fighting. So, you fight—but not with fear. You fight with trust, knowing that the outcome is in His hands alone.

Maimonides describes the laws of war. Soldiers who had just married, planted a vineyard, or built a home were sent home. Those paralyzed by fear were also dismissed. Once preparations were complete, the remaining soldiers were instructed to gird themselves and fight for G-d. At that point, fear had no place.

“When soldiers enter battle, they should rely on the Hope of Israel and their Savior in times of need. They should know that they fight for the unity of G-d’s Name.

Therefore, they should throw their lives into the fray without fear or hesitation . . . One who fights wholeheartedly, without fear, for the sanctification of G-d’s Name, is assured that no harm will befall him.”(Laws of Kings and Their Wars 7:15)

Fear is natural—but when fear is met with the recognition that only G-d determines outcomes, it dissolves into trust. And the trust itself becomes protection. When we place our full reliance on G-d, Divine providence shields us. Also, without fear, we fight without reservation, and a fearless soldier who knows his fate rests in G-d’s hands is the most formidable force on the battlefield.

This is what Moses meant when he declared, “The Egypt you see today, you will never see again.”They appear terrifying now—but tomorrow you will understand that G-d fought this battle for you.

In that moment, the Jews recognized that they had slipped from a believer’s perspective. Their fear had momentarily displaced their trust. That was the “idolatry” the angels perceived—not ancient trauma, not past failures, but their response in that moment. And as soon as Moses spoke, the fear dissolved. They accepted. And G-d saved them.

In Our Lives

Life can be frightening.

Someone dear to us may shut us out. Someone we trust may betray or abuse us. A job we rely on may disappear. We may face financial ruin, public humiliation, or crushing uncertainty. Fear paralyzes because we do not know how to fix the problem—and if we cannot, who will?

And then we remember: we are not alone. Never alone. G-d is with us—cradling us, guiding us, orchestrating our challenges and leading us toward their resolution. He has a plan, even when we cannot see it. In His arms, we are secure. And suddenly, fear gives way to trust.

That is faith.

Letting go and letting G-d. When we rely on ourselves, we place our ego at the center. When we rely on G-d, we place Him there. Ego is the subtlest form of idolatry. Trust is the highest expression of faith.

So when that quiet inner voice reassures us, we must listen. Internalize it. Live by it.

Because in truth, we have nothing to fear—but fear itself.[1]

[1] This essay is based on a teaching by Rabbi Yitzchak Meir of Ger, Chidushei Harim, Exodus 14:11.