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I’d like to share an amazing story about the simplicity with which Jews once followed Borei Olam — simply because Hashem said so.
There was a European Jew in the late 1800s or early 1900s traveling by train across Europe. In those years, trains were primitive, and journeys were long. Sitting next to him on the train was a priest.
On a long trip, conversation is inevitable. Eventually, the priest turned to the Jew and said:
“I don’t understand Judaism. Why won’t you embrace Ye-shu? Why won’t you believe in him? Why won’t you accept that he was the Mashiach?”
The Jewish man answered simply, “Because the rabbis say no.”
The priest responded, “Really? What do the rabbis know? The rabbis can be wrong. Ye-shu is the Mashiach. I’ll prove to you that rabbis can make mistakes.”
He continued, “Have you ever heard of Rabbi Akiva?”
The simple Jew replied, “Of course. What Jew hasn’t heard of Rabbi Akiva?”
The priest said, “Rabbi Akiva believed that Bar Kochba was the Mashiach. And it turned out he was wrong. You see? Rabbis are not always correct about Mashiach. So don’t just rely on them. Rabbi Akiva was wrong — and your rabbis could be wrong too.”
At that moment, the Jewish man turned to the priest and said:
“Listen. You are trained in debate. I am not. I am a simple Jew. But I know one thing. I believe in Hashem. I believe in the rabbis. And no intellectual twisting or debating is going to move me even an inch. I know I believe in the truth, regardless of what you say. If I had a rabbi here, maybe he could answer you properly. But you have not changed my belief — not even a bit.”
The priest was impressed, though he dismissed him with a condescending smile.
What neither the priest nor the simple Jew realized was that sitting right behind them on the train was one of the Gedolei HaDor of Europe — the great Rabbi Chaim Soloveitchik, known as the Brisker Rav.
Rabbi Chaim had been listening to the entire conversation.
When he heard the Jew’s simple emunah peshutah — unwavering faith despite intellectual challenge — he thought to himself, Now that he has shown such pure faith, I will step in to assist him.
Rabbi Chaim leaned forward and tapped the priest on the shoulder.
“Tell me,” he said calmly, “how exactly did you prove that the rabbis were wrong? You say Rabbi Akiva believed Bar Kochba was the Mashiach and was mistaken. But how do you know Rabbi Akiva was wrong? Perhaps Rabbi Akiva was correct. Perhaps Bar Kochba truly was Mashiach.”
The priest smiled confidently. “Impossible. Bar Kochba couldn’t have been Mashiach — because he died.”
Rabbi Chaim paused and then replied, “Did your ears just hear what your mouth said? And who do you claim is Mashiach?”
Suddenly, the priest’s face turned white.
He began to stutter. He realized the contradiction in his own argument. From that moment on, he remained silent for the rest of the journey — staring straight ahead, not speaking another word to either the rabbi or the simple Jew.
But here is the most powerful part of the story.
When the priest got off the train, Rabbi Chaim turned to the simple Jew and said:
“You may think that I outsmarted the priest. You may think my answer was sharp and brilliant. But I want to tell you something — I prefer your answer over mine.”
The simple Jew looked surprised.
Rabbi Chaim continued:
“Your answer was greater. You said, ‘I believe in Hashem. I believe in the rabbis. I do not need intellectual debates to maintain my faith.’ That emunah peshutah — that simple, pure faith — is the greatest answer a Jew can give in life to all questions and challenges.”
We are a na’aseh v’nishma people.
Yes, we were given Torah. We were given poskim, rishonim, acharonim. We were given profound explanations — peshat, drash, remez, sod, even gematria. We have brilliant scholarship and deep intellectual tradition.
But that is not what our faith depends on.
Our faith stands because Hashem said so.
That is the emunah peshutah of the Jews of old — a faith not shaken by debate, not dependent on argument, not built on intellectual gymnastics.
A faith that simply says:
I believe.