Last Friday I realized I hadn’t seen my friend Beth for a while. I whipped out my cell phone and texted her, “Come for Shabbat dinner tonight?” In less than a minute my phone dinged and her reply popped up: “Would love to but I am a Christian.”
Huh?
Last I’d seen her, my friend was just as Jewish as I am. I tried to figure it out. Had Beth undergone a major life change? I knew I hadn’t seen her in some time, but it hadn’t been that long! What was going on? My confusion soon passed as I realized it was simply impossible for Beth to be Christian. There must have been some sort of mistake.
I wrote back, “Beth?” And just as quickly, she responded, “No. Wrong number.” Whew. Deep breath. Look for Beth’s new number.
The incident with Beth actually reminded me of my friend Simon. Shortly before Yom Kippur this year I asked him if he planned to come to shul.
His honest response? “Rabbi, I cannot lie. I will not be there. You know I’m an atheist. I do not believe in G-d in any way, shape or form! But I will fast.”
Incredulous, I asked, “You’ll fast? For 25 hours?”
“You bet, Rabbi!”
“Why?”
“In 2006 I was deeply in love. My girlfriend was diagnosed with cancer and the doctor’s were not sure she’d pull through. We travelled together to the Western Wall to pray. Right there, I made a promise. I said, ‘G-d, if you exist, and if you cure my girlfriend, I will fast every single year on Yom Kippur.’ And my girlfriend vowed that if she was cured she would never eat pork again.
“Well, she got better and I’ve kept my promise. Every Yom Kippur since then I’ve fasted the full 25 hours, and I intend to continue doing so.”
This is Simon.
I can’t entice him to come to Shul for our delicious Shabbat cholent. He won’t come for Simchat Torah dancing, the celebratory Purim feast or the exhilarating Passover seder. Even our speed dating event didn’t draw him! And yet he fasts on Yom Kippur. Every year.
“You don’t believe in G-d, and yet you fast? Why?” I asked.
But Simon insists, “A vow is a vow. A deal is a deal.”
The only way Simon’s explanation makes a shred of sense is if deep down he is a believer. Which he is. Like every Jew, Simon has a soul which is a part of G-d Himself. The soul believes, and although he may truly think otherwise, Simon’s actions show that loud and clear.
In this week’s Torah portion the Jewish people became just that, a people, a nation. G-d chose us to be His people, and when we received the Torah we became connected to Him in a most powerful way. It’s an intrinsic connection which is engraved in our essence, in our soul. So connected are we, that every single Jew, whether s/he knows it or not, is a believer.
A Jew once told Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev, “Rabbi, I don’t believe in G-d.” Rabbi Levi Yitzchak responded, “The G-d that you don’t believe in, I don’t believe in either!” When Jews think they don’t believe in G-d, it simply means they are misunderstanding Who and What G-d is.
Each and every one of us, every Jew who has a soul, is absolutely and necessarily a believer.
And that is how I knew, with certainty, that my friend Beth had not become a Christian.

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