The Garden of Emuna and the Israeli Spirit

In the Garden of Faith: Finding Belonging Through Israel

People often say, “Never talk about politics or religion.” They claim those are the topics that divide us most. Yet for me, both subjects have always pointed to the same question,  one that every human being asks at some point: Why am I here? What is the meaning of life?

My journey through faith and belonging has been anything but simple. Raised among different cultures and beliefs, I have seen religion both as a dividing wall and as a bridge to something much greater. Though my parents were secular, my family background was a mixture of Christianity and something far older, a quiet, unspoken Jewish heritage that lingered behind closed doors. My mother’s family claimed to be Roman Catholic, but there was always a menorah somewhere on the shelf, Yiddish words whispered in the kitchen, and a deep love for Israel that no one dared to explain openly.

Growing up in a Roman Catholic school in the Netherlands, I struggled with faith from the very beginning. At the age of six, I asked a question that would define my life’s relationship with religion: If Jesus is the Son of God, who is the Father of God? The priest was furious. My innocent question was treated as blasphemy. From that moment, I learned a painful lesson,  questioning was not allowed. My mother, however, stood up for me. She told the pastor that no one had the right to punish a child for being curious about faith. That act of courage planted in me a seed: that real faith should never fear questions.

Everything changed when my father was stationed in the Middle East. We docked in Haifa, and for the first time, I set foot in Israel. We stayed with a Haredi Jewish family in Tiberias, and on our first Shabbat there, I experienced something that words can hardly describe. The family invited us to join their Shabbat dinner. The father placed his hands on his children’s heads and blessed them, and,  to my surprise,  also blessed my brother and me. At that moment, something within me awakened. It was a feeling of belonging, a peace I had never known. I was only eleven years old, but I knew that whatever this faith was, it was real, warm, and alive.

Years passed, and I returned to the Netherlands. Religion again became something rigid and hollow,  full of rules, guilt, and judgment. I turned away from it all. But deep inside, I never forgot that Shabbat evening in Tiberias.

Decades later, I founded Time To Stand Up for Israel, not from religious motivation, but from conviction and gratitude. Israel had given me a glimpse of what faith and community could be. Through my work, I wanted to stand for truth, for Israel’s right to exist, and for its duty to defend itself.

Eventually, I was invited to a synagogue service. The moment the Rabbi began to speak, I felt it again, that same feeling from my childhood, that warmth, that belonging. I started reading the Torah and the Tanach, and for comparison, also the Quran. Where the Quran and Bible often struck me with stories of punishment and destruction, the Torah felt different, full of wisdom, yet mysterious and challenging. I didn’t always understand it, but I respected its depth.

At some point, I even began a giur process, a formal conversion to Judaism. But I soon realized that my motivation was not entirely pure. I wanted to belong, yes,  but not at the cost of betraying the authenticity of faith. When I saw others in the same class speaking more about Jesus than about Hashem, or denying Israel’s right to exist, I knew this was not my path. Religion, I realized, is not about rituals or labels,  it’s about truth. And I could not pretend.

Then I met Daniel, a religious Jew who handed me a book that would reshape my understanding: The Garden of Emuna by Rabbi Shalom Arush.

The message of the book is simple yet profound: everything in life;  every joy, every pain, every moment,  comes from Hashem with purpose. Nothing is random. Even hardship is a lesson in disguise, a step toward personal growth and spiritual clarity. Rabbi Arush teaches that emunah, faith, is not blind belief but trust,  trust that Hashem is guiding your path, even when you don’t understand it.

Through the book, I learned that faith is not about having all the answers. It’s about asking the right questions, about speaking openly with Hashem, about gratitude and humility. It taught me that I could be close to Hashem even without strict ritual observance, through honesty, kindness, and faith.

Israel, in many ways, is the living embodiment of emunah. Surrounded by enemies, tested again and again, it remains alive, vibrant, and faithful. The Israeli spirit, the courage to rebuild, to rejoice, to believe, is what inspires me most. Faith is not about perfection; it’s about perseverance.

I may never become fully religious, but I have found peace in walking through my own “Garden of Emuna.” And as I continue this journey, one truth remains unshaken: Israel is not just a nation, it is a symbol of spiritual endurance, of light against darkness, and of faith that refuses to die.