“Our hearts were made for you, O Lord, and they are restless until they rest in you.” –St. Augustine
The Mind & the Heart
As naturopathic doctors, we emphasize behavioral changes to support healing. This reflects the modern belief that the mind is the center of a person. The mind is capable of reason, and therefore rules over emotion, behavior and character.
The belief that we are dictated by the faculties of the mind is evident in our prescribing discipline and lifestyle changes for infirmities from obesity to depression.
In contrast, Judaic tradition viewed the heart, not the mind, as the seat of the will. The heart was the source of emotion, behavior and the primary shaper of our identity. They believed the mind reflects the attitudes of the heart, not the other way around.
The Proverbs and parables are brimming with imagery supporting this view, and personal experience confirms it. I’ve tried to change my mind countless times, but it is futile until something deeper shifts. True change stems from the heart.
I recently came across an unexpected illustration of this in an article my husband read to me on male friendship. The narrator describes how his close friendships faded once he reached adulthood. This experience isn’t unique. In fact, it is expected in our culture.
But it wasn’t always this way. For centuries, friendship was regarded as the highest form of relationship. Marriage was entered into for practical reasons, to form a household and raise a family, but not for intimacy. People found their most intimate relationships through friendship.
A famous example is King David and Jonathan in ancient Israel. I listened to a sermon based on a passage in 1 Samuel when the pair embrace and weep after narrowly escaping with their lives. The pastor said in times when men were warriors, and their masculinity secure, they were free to express verbal and physical affection more eloquently than is acceptable today.
In the article, the narrator, inspired by David Goggins, attempts to overcome his loneliness through sheer willpower. He begins diligently exercising.
He embraces the modern emphasis on independence at all costs. Don’t rely on anyone. For a while, it worked. He got very strong. He looked and felt better. But in the end, he still found himself depressed, crying and longing for a missing piece of his humanity.
The article ended with him coming across a podcast that led him to reconnect with an old friend and more directly address the hole in his heart. A step in the right direction.
The Stoic Approach
What I find most interesting is that he tried the stoic approach of asserting force of mind to control his emotions and behaviors, and despite succeeding–as evidenced by meticulous discipline, health and strength– he was still left feeling empty. While stoic attempts to control the will can succeed, they never render true wholeness.
Our attempts to fill our void with anything except God–even good things–will always disappoint and leave us empty. David, perhaps, understood this more than anyone, as reflected in prayers that plead not for a new circumstance, but a new orientation of heart: “create in me a clean heart, O God. And renew an upright spirit within my inmost being” (Ps 51:10).
We go through life thinking we need a new body, new apartment, new clothes, new marriage or new job. But what we really need is a new heart. One that is oriented, above all, to a personal relationship with God, which is why we were created.
As David shows, a new heart can never come from willpower. Asserting force of mind might yield big muscles, vast knowledge, and other good outcomes, but not true fulfillment. A whole heart comes only from God.
I always wonder at the irony. Why is it that in life’s most crushing moments, it is easier for me to be strong in mind than weak in heart? But only through weakness, and the emptying of our counterfeit securities to which each heart so fiercely clings, can we finally be filled.
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