The Flame Flickers but Does Not Die
A couple from Paris came to see me. Upon entering my room, the man averred, “Honored Rav, I am a secular Jew. I have nothing to do with religion.” I invited the two to take seats and asked what brought them to me. The man stated that it was his wife who had problems. It had nothing to do with him.
I turned to the wife and asked for details. But instead of answering, she burst into bitter sobs. After calming down somewhat, she said it was truly a big problem, but was not only her problem; her husband also suffered from it.
Now I was completely confused. Why were they contradicting each other? Finally, the woman spoke again.
“Both of us grew up on an irreligious kibbutz in Israel. We married and lived there. That is where we raised our only son, to a live of wantonness and disregard for the Torah, as is the credo of that kibbutz.
“For whatever reason, we emigrated to France. Today, we discovered, to our utter dismay, that our only son has befriended a Chinese girl. Of course, we are greatly disturbed by this. How will our family continue, with gentile descendants? Who will there be to say Kaddish for us after we die?” The woman bewailed her plight.
“I have one question to ask you,” I said in response. “When you came into my office, you declared that you are completely secular in every regard. Why, then, does your son’s interest in marrying a Chinese girl bother you? What difference is there between your lifestyle and hers? Why do you care if your grandchildren will be non-Jewish?”
The man jumped up, as if stung by my words. “Does it bother me? Of course it bothers me! Although I am not religious, I am still a Jew. If our son were to marry out, his children will be gentiles. How can that not bother me?!”
“And how does your Jewishness manifest itself?” I continued, calmly. “You yourself do not believe in G-d. You have no feeling for religion. I ask again: Why are you so agitated at the thought of your son marrying a Chinese girl, who also does not believe in G-d or have any religious feeling?”
In response to my piercing words, he could only break down in sobs, repeating that it bothered him very much.
When I saw how his heart was breaking at his son’s assimilation, I turned to him softly and said, “In Hashem’s eyes, there is no distinction between a secular Jew or a religious Jew. We all stood at Har Sinai and accepted the same Torah. We are all sons of Hashem, members of one nation, and mutually responsible for one another.
“Even one who dubs himself secular rends his clothing over his deceased relative and recites Kaddish for his soul. He, too, sits in mourning for the seven days of shivah, just like a religious Jew. On Pesach, all of Am Yisrael eat matzot, and on Yom Kippur, everyone fasts. A Jewish heart beats within each and every one of us.”
The man remained silent, so I continued: “The only difference between a secular Jew and a religious one is the connection they have with their Father in Heaven. Some are closer to Him, and place more trust in Him. This is a matter which one must work on until his dying day.”
I went on to explain that the spark of Jewishness is inherent in each and every Jew. On the day we stood at Sinai, we became children of Hashem, regardless of our spiritual standing. In spite of the couple’s secular education that they received in their youth, so far from Torah and mitzvot, their Jewish souls caused them to bemoan their son, who chose to cling to another faith. B’ezrat Hashem, this young man’s neshamah will be ignited, clearing his path to his heritage.
