Issues - Jews for Jesus

Hide and Seek: The Story of Holocaust Survivor Maria Weinstein

Thu, 28 Apr 2011 00:00:00 -0700

Outside, she could hear the matches scratching. As the village around them exploded in flames, the Nazis attempted to set the last house alight. Within these walls, Maria Weinstein huddled in the embrace of her newly adopted family. There, amid the chaos, Jew and gentile united as one family in fervent prayer.

Nearly seven decades later, this slight-framed octogenarian opened the door to her home. She seemed to be welcoming me more for a reunion than an interview. Maria instantly transformed from my newest subject to my adoptive grandmother. With a broad smile and the few English words she knew, she invited me into the living room of her daughter's family home. There, in her thick Russian accent and modest floral dress, Maria relayed her story through her grandson and interpreter, David Taube. It soon became clear that none of the horror would be lost in translation.

Less than a decade before the Second World War, on May 5, 1931, Maria Weinstein was born to a respectable Jewish family in a Polish village. With a successful businessman for a father and a loving homemaker for a mother, Maria, her older brother, and her younger sister were well provided for.

"Until ten years old, I spent most of the time with my family," she reminisced. "I went to school, I went to the synagogue, and my [rabbi] grandfather taught me to pray." From the age of three, she began learning from relatives and tutors subjects ranging from language to religion. They taught her Russian, Hebrew and bits of Polish and Ukrainian, as well as celebrating holidays like Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot and Passover. Then her face became serious. "That was before the Germans came."

In 1941, everything changed for the Weinstein family; they were transferred from their village in Radekhiv, Volyns'ka, to the neighboring city of Luboml. Then, like cattle herded into a pen, they and other Jewish families were rounded up to form the Jewish ghetto. "It was difficult to live." Maria spoke in short sentences as she recalled. "They treated us very poorly."

Her father however, was able to afford documents allowing him passage out of the ghetto during the week to do business. Yet Yakov's wages were not in money, but in potatoes, a loaf of bread or perhaps some milk. For to the starving, food meant more than funds.

Then things got worse. 300 miles away in Kiev, 33,771 Jews were shot and killed at the Babi Yar ravine.¹ "We were told that we would be fine, that we wouldn't be touched. And we believed them." But as time went on, the killings crept closer and a repeat of Babi Yar felt nearer and nearer. Guards appeared, stationed to stand watch. Barbed wire soon formed a cage around them. "Everyone knew that death was imminent."

Maria, then just barely eleven years old, ran to her room, dove under the covers, and began to pray, "God save us!" She knew she had to escape. She had nothing to lose. But her mother refused to leave, her son clinging fearfully to her side. So, equipped with the clothing on their backs and a blessing from their mother, Maria and her younger sister, Valya, fled.

When they reached the central exit and entrance, the guard halted them. "Are you a Jew?" he questioned Valya. When the eight year old denied it, he accused her of lying. The guard spun around, switching his interrogation to Maria. "I was delivering milk to some lady," she lied. Maria told me, "I never knew the [Ukrainian] word for lady, but it just ... came out."

Although the words were foreign to her tongue, they were enough to fool the guards. The two young girls were able to slip out of the barbed wire ghetto prison. It wasn't until several years later, through the account of a local Ukrainian boy, that she learned the fate of her mother and brother. When the boy recognized her name, he explained to her what had happened at the brick factory near their home. There, the families were told to dig large holes for necessary chemical disposal. "They didn't know that those holes were going to be their graves."

She explained to me, with evident pain, "They lined them up, made them strip down next to those mass graves, and then sprayed the bullets at the crowd." Afterward, they simply covered the mound of death with dirt. "For three days, you could see the ground moving."

After their father heard about the mass murders, he left the village en route to the city, watching for survivors. When he saw his two daughters on the road, he immediately asked where their mother and brother were. "We left," they answered. As he assumed the fate of his wife and son, he began to weep. There was nothing he could do.

With death hiding around every corner, the broken family was forced to go into hiding. They slept wherever they could: under trees, in bushes or even in a trench behind a church. Around two in the morning, while the girls slept in the dirt, Yakov would negotiate with obliging villagers to obtain small amounts of food.

But Nazi-paid Ukrainian spies were everywhere. Any villager could be the eye of the enemy. It wasn't long before they learned, through Yakov's connections, that they had been discovered. And so, with death following close behind, they were on the run again.

Somewhere in the depths of the forest, two Ukrainians working for the Nazi regime caught up with them. "It doesn't scare me if you kill me," Maria's father said, "Just let the girls live." One of the men began to soften. But as one calmed, the other became more enraged. Maria remembers, "He was shaking with anger ... he wanted to kill us all." As the calm soldier worked to placate his partner, Yakov and his daughters were able to escape.

Again they ran; again they hid. Sleeping beneath the tree branches, they were joined by other Jews. At one point, eleven of them were united in the forest, each living a nomadic life of fear. But when Yakov went to a familiar house to ask for food, they turned him away, saying, "You can't come here anymore. They know I'm helping Jews."

They needed to relocate, and fast. Sitting in the bushes, they planned their next move. They would go to another Polish house nearby, where Maria would plead for food with what little Polish she knew. But as soon as she stepped out of the bushes, she beheld a terrible sight.

A troop of men, each dressed in black, had surrounded the area. The moment they saw her emerge from the shrubbery, the chase began. Maria quickly signaled to her father and sister that it was time to run, and others followed suit. Unfortunately, the only way for them to escape was to flee across an open expanse, and Maria said, "As soon as a few people emerged to run across the field, the bullets began to fly." As they fled, the army in black shot after them, aiming for the larger targets. Although Maria was separated from her family and running alone, she remembers, "At that moment, I wasn't afraid. Somehow I got the strength inside to run in another direction."

Maria escaped into a thicket of trees, crouched into a little ball, and began to think, "What if I'm left alone?" There she sat by herself, dazed and distressed, for so long that she fell asleep. Suddenly, she heard footsteps. Little Maria was face to face with a wolf. Even as the wild animal began to sniff closer, she was unafraid. Then, just as quickly as it came, the wolf was gone. But it failed to leave her mind. "I clearly felt it was a sign from God that I needed to leave at that moment."

Just as she did so, she caught sight of her sister. "Where's Poppa?" Maria asked. Valya pointed and said, "Over there. They killed him." As soon as their father had realized the killers were aiming for the larger individuals, he had pushed his youngest daughter into a little ditch. He figured that this would prevent his murder from also becoming hers.

Suddenly, an eleven-year-old and an eight-year-old were left to fend for themselves in the forest. As the weather became colder with the changing of the seasons, conditions became even more difficult. The few times they could find food, Maria said, "Our throats couldn't swallow it. We were so parched." Without wool jackets or gloves, the snowy weather soon turned their skin into raw meat. Maria said it "began to stink as if it were rotting."

As the climate wore on their bodies, the girls would search for barns or sheds. There, unbeknownst to the owners, Maria and Valya would burrow into the hay to rest. Even as she told me of this suffering, she managed to lighten the mood, saying, "At the time, I didn't really understand I was suffering in extreme cold. But now, if it gets a little chilly in the house, I sit next to the fireplace."

Regardless of the smile in her eyes, I knew the horrors of her past lingered. For three days, the girls slept in the hay without food or water. They were lost, parched and starved. Desperate in their suffering, the girls would lick leaves in search of some form of nutrition. The see-saw between hope and despair became a daily battle, and some days, Maria said, "We had no desire or motivation to live." In resignation, the sisters decided to head back to the ghetto to die.

When they approached, Luboml was enveloped in an eerie silence. The very land seemed dead. Suddenly, in the midst of the silence, Maria spotted an old gentleman. With nothing to lose, she approached the stranger, asking him for help. "You're Jews," he accused. "We're Polish," Maria lied. She explained to me: "If we had said we were Jews, there's no way he would have helped us. But if we said we were Polish, there was a 50/50 chance."

Whether the man believed them or not, that night, the runaways were allowed to sleep in safety. As Maria and Valya left his home the following morning, they expected to find the Germans at the doorstep. Instead, they were met with a blue sky and shining sun. The beautiful weather rejuvenated their spirits, and with their fresh desire to live, the girls headed in a new direction.

Now that they weren't headed for the ghetto, the girls were lost. With no houses in sight, Maria simply picked a direction and started walking. Maria said, "If [we come across] a peaceful village, we'll live. If it's a dangerous area, we'll die."

As soon as they reached a village, they started knocking. "We went to one house, to two houses, to three houses, and every single family said, 'You're Jews. Get out of here.'" Those who didn't immediately reject them would simply offer excuses, sending them to another home, which would then do the same. As night fell, so did the feeling of defeat. Alone and rejected in a foreign village, the young girls made their bed in a heap of hay and dreamed of death. Maria said, "I wasn't afraid of any animals. I didn't care about snakes or wolves or anything. But if I heard the sound of a man, I was petrified. It was as if it were a monster."

In the morning, they decided once again to head for the ghetto. On their way back, they passed a woman and her daughter weaving cloth. The woman called out: "Little girls, come over here," and asked, "Whose are you?" When they approached and answered, the woman recognized their surname and knew they were Jews. Yet Mrs. Yanyuk still said, "Well, you'll just stay with us." Somehow, when they weren't trying, the girls had found a home.

This "adoption" was beshert (destined). In 1939, the Yanyuk family had lost twins. Four years later, it was as if these Jewish girls, Maria and Valya, had come to heal the wound. It was not long before the barriers between natural born (there were three other Yanyuk children) and new additions melted away.

What Maria and Valya did not know was that the Yanyuks had taken them in fully aware that there was a mandatory death sentence for anyone who assisted fugitive Jews. The Yanyuks were strong believers in Jesus and were convinced that it was not only right to protect these children, it was what their Messiah would have them do. In fact, the Yanyuks had explained this to their natural-born children, and the family had entered into an agreement to harbor the two young girls even if it meant death to their entire family.

Mere months after the girls had been taken in, the family's resolve was put to the test; the monsters came knocking. "We heard you're hiding Jews," the Nazis at the doorstep accused. When their adoptive mother denied this, they threatened, "We're going to kill your entire family if you don't give them up." But betrayal was not an option. Mrs. Yanyuk was resolute. "These are all my children," she told them.

After this incident, Maria and Valya understood the commitment the family had made to protect them. The girls were overwhelmed by their courage and love for them. "Through how they lived, we began to realize that they had something special," Maria said. The Yanyuks had already explained to the girls that they believed that Jesus was the Jewish Messiah. But they never made the girls attend church with them. However, after the Nazis had come to the doorstep, Maria and Valya wanted to go to the place of worship the Yanyuks attended and learn more about how their faith could give them that kind of love and courage. They wondered, Could their God be the same God that we as Jews have learned to honor?

Maria already had a love for the Torah, and she immediately became engaged as she heard the Scriptures expounded by the pastor. She recognized passages from the Hebrew Scriptures, and when she saw evidence in those passages, as well as in the New Testament, that Jesus was the Jewish Messiah, she was not shocked. "I was very familiar with who the Messiah was supposed to be -- we [Jews] were awaiting him," she explained. "So it wasn't a total change in my understanding. I just came to see that the Messiah, Y'shua (Jesus), had already come. When I was a little girl, my mother would tell me, 'Be sure you're sensitive to God, so if he comes knocking on the door to take you to the Promised Land, you won't miss it.'" Maria remembered her mother's advice. This was simply the answer to a long-standing religious question: the Messiah had come and he was Jesus.

Later, when the Nazis returned to burn the village, the family held together. They huddled in prayer inside their home, and as the Nazis attempted to set it ablaze, their faith did not falter. And somehow, their house did not burn.

In 1951, six years after the war ended, Maria married. She smiled as she told me, "He was a very good guy and I was a very good catch. His family didn't want to let me go." Over the next few years, she and Dmitri gave birth to four children. When the youngest was merely two months old, Dmitri died of cancer, leaving Maria a widow at 27 years old.

Vera Taube, one of Maria's daughters, interjected. "Four or five men came to marry her after my father [died], but she refused everybody. She said, 'I am the wife of one man.'" Maria raised her four children alone. She now resides in the San Francisco Bay Area, near Vera and grandchildren David and Elena.

Of his grandmother, David said, "Her years of devotion to God through love, perseverance and forgiveness have provided me a map to life which I have tried to follow since my childhood. It is not an easy route to follow by any means, but as my Babushka Maria always says, 'with God all things are possible.'"

It is apparent that Maria Weinstein did more than pass on her genes. She has left behind a rich legacy. She not only survived to tell her story, but to be an example of faith in the God of the Hebrew Scriptures. Because of her living testimony, she has inspired two faith-filled generations -- four children and twelve grandchildren. "With the kind of life that I had to live through," the 80-year-old Maria reflected, "there's no way I would have survived without Jesus. I put my hope and trust in him and he guided me. By his mercy, I'm still alive."

End Note

Kiev and Babi Yar, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum Encyclopedia

[ Comments ]

Author: Rachel Friedlander
Added: Thu, 28 Apr 2011 00:00:00 -0700
Other Articles

Did He Or Didn't He? Jewish Views of the Resurrection of Jesus

Sun, 24 Apr 2011 00:00:00 -0700

Jewish scholars have paid more attention to the person of Y'shua (Jesus) in the last hundred years than they have in the previous nineteen hundred. None deny his Jewishness. After all, Jesus was born to a Jewish mother, lived in Israel and taught a group of Jewish disciples. He also celebrated Jewish holidays. Modern Jewish theologian and rabbi, Pinchas Lapide, notes:

The love of Jesus and the academic interest in him and his impact were implanted in me by Jewish teachers like Joseph Klausner, for whom Jesus was "the most Jewish of all Jews," Martin Buber, who perceived him as "his great brother," and Leo Baeck, the last luminary of the German school of rabbis, who in the year 1938 at the time of the Nazi Kristallnacht managed to write of him: "We see before us a man who according to all the signs of his personality discloses the Jewish character, in whom the purity and worth of Judaism is so specially and so clearly revealed.¹

The main areas of debate and speculation among Jewish scholars about Jesus concern his words. Which did he actually say and which, if any, were added later by other writers who wanted to put forth their own versions of his message?

Did Jesus live? No dispute. Did he die? Absolutely. Yet one issue which is rarely examined by Jewish scholars is the historical event upon which his message stands or falls: his resurrection from the dead. It is the belief in this event which his first century followers took to heart and boldly proclaimed to the rest of the world. It is the central claim of the New Testament. One of his followers, Paul, put it this way:

If we hoped in Messiah in this life only, we are of all men most to be pitied. But now Messiah has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who are asleep.

1 Corinthians 15: 19-20

Until recently, most Orthodox Jews could reject the resurrection of Y'shua, on the basis that they do not accept the idea of a Messiah who dies and is then resurrected. However, in the summer of 1996 a curious situation developed in the Orthodox community. The Lubavitch Chasidim were hailing their rebbe, the late Menachem Mendel Schneerson, as King Messiah. He had died two years earlier, yet they were expecting him to rise from his grave. Other Orthodox Jews found this notion to be an embarrassment. Then, the membership of the of the Rabbinical Council of America (1,000 Orthodox rabbis) passed a resolution stating,

There is not and has never been a place in Judaism for the belief that Mashiach ben David will bring his Messianic mission only to experience death, burial and resurrection before completing it.²

In response to this, noted Orthodox rabbi, Ahron Soloveitchik (Yeshiva University dean and head of Brisk Yeshiva in Chicago) offered his own comments. While he stated that he did not believe Menachem Schneerson to be the Messiah, he said that the idea of a Messiah who dies and is later resurrected "cannot be dismissed as a belief that is outside the pale of orthodoxy."³

This quote fueled the controversy even more, as Lubavitch rabbis were quick to embrace his words and non-Lubavitch rabbis were just as quick to explain how Soloveitchik's words were taken out of context.

Today, as some Lubavitch still fervently believe in Schneerson's return, the debate over the concept of a dead and resurrected Messiah continues.

In light of the renewed interest in the Jewish community concerning the death and resurrection of Messiah, it is time for another look at the resurrection claims of Y'shua. This kind of inquiry may be too threatening to many Jews. For the Lubavitchers who now believe in the death and resurrection of Messiah, considering Jesus' claims would cast doubt on their own convictions regarding Menachem Schneerson. Despite this open debate among the Orthodox concerning resurrection, Y'shua remains a non-candidate for the position of Messiah.

For most non-Orthodox Jews, however, there is a variety of other reasons to reject the resurrection of Y'shua. The Jewish atheist, for example, will categorically deny the supernatural. Along with the parting of the Red Sea, the provision of manna in the wilderness, and the sun standing still, resurrection is not a possibility.

The Jewish agnostic believes that since we can't know one way or the other, the issue is irrelevant to pursue. "How can we judge," the agnostic postures, "nearly two thousand years later, the veracity of supposed 'eye-witness accounts.'"

Others are more pragmatic and espouse that since they have never seen anyone rise from the dead, it is simply not logical to believe in such a thing.

Finally, there is a cultural response from the Jewish community which often makes the issue a moot point long before it is ever taken seriously. Namely, "We Jews don't believe that Jesus rose from the dead because Jesus is not for us Jews to consider--period."

But whether or not the rabbis or the secularists or agnostics give us permission to believe, that does not make it true or false. The resurrection of Y'shua, as with any historical event, must be explored and examined on the weight of the evidence. It is not logical to say that it is okay for Gentiles to believe in the resurrection but it is not acceptable for Jews to believe. Either it happened or it didn't. As Maimonides once declared,

A truth, once it is established by proof, neither gains additional force from its acceptance by all scholars, nor loses any force if all reject it...⁴

So, exactly what evidence is there to support the claim that Y'shua rose from the dead?

Evidence from the New Testament

Some people will automatically question the documents of the New Testament when attempting to uncover the "historical Jesus." The assumption is that these writers were biased, attempting to interject their own agenda rather than recording what actually happened. But this attitude often stems more from our modern age of cynicism than from any familiarity with the New Testament itself. It is amazing that so many people who have little direct knowledge of the New Testament have dogmatic ideas about its contradictions or its historical inaccuracy. A familiarity with the New Testament should be the starting point of any discussion about Y'shua, if only to know what is the traditional view.

The first four books of the New Testament are called the gospels, the biographies of the life of Y'shua. Each one gives the account from the writer's own vantage point and all four mention the resurrection. When Y'shua was on the cross, his followers were defeated and faithless as they did not understand the necessity for his death. After the resurrection, Y'shua physically appeared to them and from then on, we see changed behavior in their lives. No longer were they cowardly and bumbling, but rather they were transformed into bold proclaimers of the message of the resurrection.

Following the gospel accounts is the book of Acts, which records the history of the first generation of Jewish followers who began to take this message around the world. Their message focused on the empty tomb. The remainder of the books in the New Testament (with one exception) consist of instructional letters, in which the resurrection is mentioned repeatedly as the basis for this faith.

History, it is said, is written by the winners. But at the time of the writing of the New Testament, the followers of Y'shua were a small, persecuted minority. They were hardly the group in power, able to say whatever they pleased. And as for their agenda, they felt compelled to promote the belief that Y'shua rose from the dead. Why else would the New Testament contain such embarrassingly truthful events of the fear, faithlessness and sin of the very community which was promoting this message?

The best way to recognize that the New Testament is actually an historical document is to read it. It is hard to come up with any other conclusion. One of the most famous Jews of this century did just that and discovered something quite remarkable. In a 1929 interview in the Saturday Evening Post, Albert Einstein was asked if he believed in the historical Jesus and he replied:

Unquestionably! No one can read the Gospels without feeling the actual presence of Jesus. His personality pulsates in every word. No myth is filled with such life.⁵

The same documents which tell us that Y'shua lived also mention that he died and rose again. While no serious scholar doubts that Y'shua walked among us, skeptics (both Jewish and gentile) frequently attempt to extract the real history from these documents and throw away what they believe to be myth. Each year a new set of scholars steps up to the plate in an attempt to knock down the traditional life of Y'shua. These new positions are then readily embraced by those who are looking for reasons not to believe. Yet, by the following year a whole new school of thought emerges, taking exception with the previous year's scholarship and going off in a new direction. The Jesus Seminar is one popular example of this phenomenon.

We are left with the question: Were these first century Jewish believers in Jesus the most brilliant deceivers in history, able to interweave truth and fiction in a way that has not been reproduced or uncovered by centuries of challengers, or were they simply sharing the historical events as they happened when they described the resurrection of Y'shua? Until a compelling and lasting alternative is produced, the New Testament must be taken seriously when discussing the resurrection of Y'shua.

Evidence from Counter-Theories

What are some of the alternative explanations to these historical events? And what degree of faith does it take to believe these counter-theories?

1. Stolen by the Disciples

One popular theory about the resurrection, which is even mentioned in the New Testament itself as a charge by Jesus' detractors, is that the disciples stole the body. This provides a convenient excuse not to pursue the issue further, but it ignores the facts.

Fact one: Had the body been stolen by his followers, all that would be needed to disprove the disciples' claim would be to produce the body. No body has ever been produced.

Fact two: There were Roman guards at the site of the tomb. How, then could any of Jesus' followers have stolen his body?

Fact three: There was a giant stone covering the tomb, which would have taken several people to move. The guards could not have overlooked such an operation.

Fact four: Historically, we know that the early followers of Y'shua were persecuted for their belief. They were offered two options: renounce their belief in the resurrection or die. It seems unlikely that, were the disciples to have stolen the body, they would have all been ready to die rather than confess their deeds. It is true that people die everyday for beliefs which are not true. But these are lies which they fully believe to be true. How often do people die for what they know to be a fabrication?

Fact five: Whatever else can be said about the original followers of Y'shua, they themselves certainly believed that Y'shua rose from the dead. They did not steal the body.

2. Swoon Theory

This position states that Y'shua went to the cross and that his hands and feet were pierced, but that he did not actually die. Rather, he merely fainted. Then, after being placed in a damp tomb-bleeding and without food or water for three days-- Y'shua was revived and was healed. He then somehow rolled away the stone, got past the guards and went on to tell others that he had indeed risen from the dead.

One offshoot of this theory came from the late Hugh Schoenfeld in his best selling book, The Passover Plot. Schoenfeld believed that it was Y'shua's plan to pretend to be the Messiah and that he attempted to fake his death by being given a drug (which would have made him swoon, giving the appearance of death). This plan was thwarted when a Roman soldier struck a spear into his side, which caused his death. The body was then hidden and when Y'shua's followers saw "an unknown young man," they mistook him for their risen Messiah.

Schoenfeld gave no reason as to why he accepted much of the New Testament as true and why he regarded some portions as suspect. Perhaps he would have been better off denying that Y'shua ever existed. At least then he would not have been promoting a theory which takes more of a leap of faith than the New Testament account itself. But he knew, as all skeptics do, that the New Testament cannot be dismissed lightly. It is a cohesive, coherent and convincing book.

3. One of Many Resurrections

While Hugh Schoenfeld accepted most of the New Testament as reliable history, only to take a detour around the resurrection, another modern Jewish scholar presents an equally interesting hypothesis. Pinchas Lapide is an orthodox Jewish scholar who has a very unorthodox view of the resurrection of Y'shua. He went so far as to declare,

I accept the resurrection of Easter Sunday not as an invention of the community of disciples, but as an historical event.⁶

Lapide examined the New Testament and concluded that the recorded events are too rooted in history for there to be any major revisions or deceptions involved in the writing. He believes that Y'shua physically rose from the dead. Amazingly, Lapide falls short of recognizing the implications of this truth for his own life. In his book, The Resurrection of Jesus, Lapide regards Y'shua as a type of role model for gentiles to prepare them for the coming of the Jewish Messiah. To reach this viewpoint, Lapide had to reject the very same documents which were the basis for his belief in Y'shua's resurrection in the first place. Indeed, the New Testament mentions on virtually every page the fact that Y'shua is the promised Messiah, the one whose coming was foretold by Moses and the Jewish prophets. There is no consistency or logic in Lapide's argument.

Evidence from Changed Lives

One response to all these "theories" is to say, "Who's to say what is true? It's all a matter of speculation." After all, one can reason, even in this century we are presented with mysteries to which we probably won't get answers--What ever happened to Amelia Earhardt? Who killed Kennedy? Was there a conspiracy in the death of Martin Luther King?

To some people, the controversy over these events is proof that we cannot possibly know for sure what happened concerning an incident which occurred almost two millennia ago.

However, the evidence for the resurrection of Y'shua goes far beyond the discussion of source documents and historical records. In fact, evidence is still being presented today as individuals are experiencing the changed life which is the result of that resurrection.

Y'shua was not a mere victim of a mob. Nor was his death an accident. It was the very purpose of his mission. He gave up his life as an atonement for sin. His words mean nothing apart from this final action. The "good news" is that the Messiah willingly stood in our place and, by dying, took the penalty which rightfully belongs to each one of us. But he didn't stay dead. By rising from the grave he defeated the power of sin and death and enables individuals to have a new relationship with God. And it is this power-- the power of the resurrection--which is available to anyone who believes. This power has been changing lives (of both Jews and gentiles) since the first century.

One Jewish man who knew of this life-changing experience was Alfred Edersheim, the British scholar and author of the last century. His book, The Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah, was originally published in the 1880's and is still considered one of the most authoritative sources on the subject. His Jewish view of Y'shua pre-dated the more recent wave of Jewish scholars who have been increasingly curious about the New Testament. To conclude his chapter on the resurrection he writes,

The importance of all this can not be adequately expressed in words. A dead Christ might have been a Teacher and Wonder-worker, and remembered and loved as such. But only a risen and Living Christ could be the Saviour, the Life, and the Life-Giver--and as such preached to all men. And of this most blessed truth we have the fullest and most unquestionable evidence. ⁷

There is only one reason why a Jew should believe in Y'shua. It is the same reason why a gentile should believe. It has nothing to do with convenience or social standing. Nor does it have anything to do with Y'shua's good moral teachings. The only reason anyone should be for Y'shua is because of who he is and what he has done:

It is a trustworthy statement, deserving full acceptance, that Messiah Y'shua came into the world to save sinners.

1 Timothy 1:15

The claims of Y'shua stand alone, even when compared with the sayings of other religious leaders. And to punctuate his claims there is an historical event which stands as a challenge. The New Testament does not present the resurrection of Y'shua as merely part of a creed that must be followed by insiders. It is presented to all people as an historical fact, and there are only two possible responses to it. Either it happened or it didn't.

What do you think? Will your conclusion be determined by the reflex of tradition? Will you dismiss the issue because of twentieth century pre-suppositions? Or will you choose to explore an ancient tomb--where all too few have dared to look.

Endnotes

Rahner, Karl and Lapide, Pinchas, Encountering Jesus-Encountering Judaism-A Dialogue (New York: Crossroad Publishing Co. 1987), p. 104
Jewish Bulletin of Northern California, June 21, 1996 (from article: "1,000 Orthodox rabbis reject claim rebbe was Messiah" by Debra Nussbaum Cohen, Jewish Telegraphic Agency)
Jewish Week-American Examiner, July 5, 1996 (from article: "Messiah Debate Swirls Anew" by Eric Greenberg)
Ausubel, Nathan, The Book of Jewish Knowledge, (New York, Crown Publishers, 1964), p. 485
Saturday Evening Post, October 26, 1929
Lapide, Pinchas, The Resurrection of Jesus, (Minneapolis, Augsburg Publishing House, 1983), p. 15
Edersheim, Alfred, The Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah, (Grand Rapids, Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1971), p. 629

[ Comments ]

Author: David Mishkin
Added: Sun, 24 Apr 2011 00:00:00 -0700
Other Articles

The Three Symbols of Passover

Fri, 11 Mar 2011 00:00:00 -0800

The following excerpt is from the Messianic Family Haggadah.* This haggadah retains the essential elements of the traditional seder service, but weaves in some New Testament understandings that explain the Passover/Jesus connection.

The Three Symbols of Passover

Leader: Rabbi Gamaliel said that in order to tell the Passover story properly, we must mention three important things: Pesach, matzah and maror -- the Passover Lamb, the unleavened bread and the bitter herbs.

Reader 2: The Passover Lamb was God's provision for our people in ancient Egypt. John, a first-century Jew for Jesus, called Y'shua the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Y'shua was God's perfect lamb sacrificed for us. As our ancestors applied the blood of the Passover lamb to the doorposts of their homes, sparing the firstborn sons from death, today we apply the blood of Y'shua, God's lamb, to the doorposts of our hearts through faith. When we do this, we are forgiven of our sin and are set free to serve the living God.

Reader 1: We eat the matzah, the unleavened bread, as our ancestors did when God took them out of Egypt in haste and there was no time to wait for their bread to rise. The matzah is like our Messiah Y'shua, who was without leaven, without sin. The piercing and stripes of the matzah bring to mind the words of the prophet Isaiah, who said of Y'shua:

"But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his stripes we are healed." (Isaiah 53:5)

Our ancestors ate manna in the wilderness as they left Egypt for the Promised Land. We are offered the bread of life, Y'shua, to satisfy us forever.

Reader 2: This bitter herb, or maror, reminds us of the embittered life that our people endured as slaves in Egypt. The bitter root, chazeret, reminds us that bitterness goes down to the root of our very being and cannot merely be topped off. We are all slaves to sin and bitterness and we will never know the sweetness of freedom until we let the Messiah Jesus uproot the sin in our lives and set us free.

Leader: In every generation, we are to see ourselves as though we personally came out of slavery in Egypt. For God not only redeemed our ancestors, He redeemed us too, and for this reason we praise him.

Raise the second cup and say:

All: We praise you, O Lord, for bringing us from bondage to freedom, from despair to hope, from sorrow to joy, from darkness to Your great light.

Messianic Family Haggadah, arranged by Janie-sue Wertheim (San Francisco: Purple Pomegranate Productions, 2007), pp. 30-31. Available for purchase at purplepomegranate.org

[ Comments ]

Added: Fri, 11 Mar 2011 00:00:00 -0800
Other Articles

A Chronological Look at How Jesus Spent his Last Week Leading up to Passover

Thu, 10 Mar 2011 00:00:00 -0800

Saturday and Sunday

Jesus drew near to Jerusalem,¹ arriving at Bethany six days before Passover,² on Saturday. Jesus was anointed at Simon the leper's house.³ On Sunday, a great crowd came to Bethany to see Jesus.⁴

Monday

The next day⁵ Jesus entered Jerusalem,⁶ visited the temple⁷ and returned to Bethany. It was Nisan 10, when the Passover lambs were selected. Likewise, the entry into Jerusalem was the day when Jesus presented himself as Israel's Paschal Lamb.

Tuesday

On the way from Bethany to Jerusalem, Jesus cursed the fig tree,⁸ and in Jerusalem he challenged the temple practice of selling on the premises.⁹ Some religious leaders began to plot ways to kill him. That evening Jesus left Jerusalem, presumably returning to Bethany.¹⁰

Wednesday

On the way to Jerusalem, the disciples saw the withered fig tree.¹¹ At the temple in Jerusalem, Jesus' authority and wisdom was questioned by some religious leaders.¹² That afternoon Jesus went to the Mount of Olives and delivered his discourse to those assembled.¹³ Two additional things occurred on that day: (1) Jesus predicted that in two days he would be crucified at the time of the Passover;¹⁴ and (2) Judas planned the betrayal of Jesus with some religious leaders.¹⁵

Thursday

Jesus and his disciples prepared the Passover lamb,¹⁶ and they had their seder meal together.¹⁷ Jesus shared heartfelt words with his disciples and offered an intercessory prayer in their behalf.¹⁸ They arrived at the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus suffered in agony awaiting what was to come.¹⁹ Later that night Jesus was betrayed and arrested.²⁰ He was tried first by Annas and later by Caiaphas and other religious leaders.²¹

Friday

Early in the morning, Jesus was tried by the Sanhedrin, Pilate, Herod Antipas, and Pilate again.²² He was led to the cross and crucified at 9 a.m. and died at 3 p.m. and was buried later that day.²³ Jesus died at the time when the Passover lambs were being sacrificed.

Saturday

Jesus' body was in the tomb during the Sabbath, and the Pharisees hired Roman guards to keep watch of the tomb.²⁴

Sunday

Christ was resurrected from the dead.²⁵ His was the first of many resurrections to come, in which it was a type of first fruits offering. (First fruit offerings were made on the day after the Sabbath.)²⁶

End Notes

John 11:55
John 12:1
Matthew 26:6–13; Mark 14:3–9; John 12:1–8
John 12:9–11
John 12:12
Matthew 21:1–9; Mark 11:1–10; Luke 19:28–40; John 12:12–19
Matthew 21:10–11; Mark 11:11
Matthew 21:18–19; Mark 11:12–14
Matthew 21:12–13; Mark 11:15–17; Luke 19:45–46
Mark 11:18–19; Luke 19:47–48
Matthew 21:20–22; Mark 11:20–26
Matthew 21:23–23:39; Mark 11:27–12:44; Luke 20:1–21:4
Matthew 24:1–25:46; Mark 13:1–27; Luke 21:5–36
Matthew 26:1–5; Mark 14:1–2; Luke 22:1–2
Matthew 26:14–16; Mark 14:10–11; Luke 22:3–6
Matthew 26:17–19; Mark 14:12–16; Luke 22:7–13
Matthew 26:20–30; Mark 14:17–26; Luke 22:14–30
Matthew 26:30–35; Mark 14:26–31; Luke 22:31–39; John 15:1–18:1
Matthew 26:36–46; Mark 14:32–42; Luke 22:39–46; John 18:1
Matthew 26:46–56; Mark 14:43–52; Luke 22:47–53; John 18:2–12
Matthew 26:57–75; Mark 14:53–72; Luke 22:54–65; John 18:13–27
Matthew 27:1–30; Mark 15:1–19; Luke 22:66–23:25; John 18:28–19:16
Matthew 27:31–60; Mark 15:20–46; Luke 23:26–54; John 19:16–42
Matthew 27:61–66; Mark 15:47; Luke 23:55–56
Matthew 28:1–15; Mark 16:1–13; Luke 24:1–35
Leviticus 23:9–14; 1 Corinthians 15:23

Adapted from Chronological Aspects of the Life of Christ by Harold W. Hoehner. Copyright 1977 by The Zondervan Corporation; 1973, 1974 by Dallas Theological Seminary. Used by permission of The Zondervan Corporation.

[ Comments ]

Added: Thu, 10 Mar 2011 00:00:00 -0800
Other Articles

In the Little Shtetl of Vaysechvoos

Thu, 10 Mar 2011 00:00:00 -0800

Gittel, everyone in Vaysechvoos agreed, was a true beauty. Besides this she was bright, vivacious and as innocent as freshly fallen snow. Why, one glance from her deep, smiling brown eyes was enough to melt the heart of any yeshiva bocher. But that was not to be.

One day Gittel disappeared. Her mother, Frumah-Ruchel, had sent her to Shimmon the butcher for a Shabbos chicken, and she had never returned. Reb Peretz was frantic with worry. What if his daughter had been killed, or even worse, kidnapped by a Cossack? After a thorough search, the grieving parents learned the shameful truth: Gittel had run off and married a goy -- a gentile. And not just a gentile, but Gregori (Grisha) Ivanovich Petrushin.

Dark rumors surrounded the name Petrushin. First of all, Grisha was a man of great wealth, and such wealth, no doubt, came from doing no good. He was a bald, stout, middle-aged widower whose first wife had met an untimely demise. As the story went, during one of Grisha's not-so-infrequent drinking bouts, he had threatened to do his wife harm. She died that night of a stroke -- a young girl of nineteen! Perhaps the rumors were unfounded. But who knows?

Gittel's parents wept at the news of their daughter's betrothal. "Master of the Universe," cried Reb Peretz, "has such a thing ever happened in Israel that my daughter should run off with a goy, a stranger of the likes of Grisha Petrushin?" So grieved were Reb Peretz and Frumah-Ruchel that they sat shiva, not for one, but two weeks!

Now one would certainly think that with such bad news, a little pleasantness could come to Vaysechvoos to balance things out, right? Wrong. With bad news comes more bad news. Rumors were spreading that a demonstration was to come to the shtetl like the one that had come to Kishinev. This made the townspeople shudder, for the brutal massacre at Kishinev was all too well known.

A town meeting was called by the sage of Vaysechvoos that evening. Everyone was there and all were asking, "What are we to do and where are we to run?"

The sage stroked his beard and with calm assurance in his voice addressed the agitated flock: "I, too, was troubled, but I have found a solution. I have come to the conclusion that we must employ the influence of a high-ranking official to intercede for us. But you will say, 'We are Jews. What high-ranking officials would hear our case?' And then I will say, 'Count Petrushin can put a stop to the demonstration!'"

The sage's eyes lit up as he unfolded his plan. The fact that Grisha Petrushin was not only of noble birth but a blood relative of the Czar himself was a well-kept secret in the district. However, the sage knew all such secrets. With the town's blessing, he left the next morning for the Petrushin estate. It was only a half day's journey from Vaysechvoos, and when the sage arrived, Gittel was alone, for it was Friday. You see on Fridays, she would send the servants away and prepare a dinner for Grisha herself. The sage was gratified to see that Gittel was looking well. She told him that Grisha was a devoted husband and that apart from missing her family, she was very happy. The sage could see from her smiling eyes that what she had said was so. But his thoughts then shifted to the reason for his visit.

The sage told Gittel of the planned demonstration and the danger for all the Jews in Vaysechvoos, for all the Jews in the district! "Now Gitteleh," he whispered, "your husband can put a stop to this madness. You'll persuade him to stop it?"

That night Gittel prepared a lavish dinner. She roasted a goose and made a noodle kugel with raisins and almonds and a feather-light sponge cake for dessert. Grisha enjoyed the feast set before him, but he could sense that his bride was troubled. He begged her to tell him what was bothering her so.

Gittel took a deep breath and began. She told her husband what had happened at Kishinev and of the plans for a similar demonstration in her home village of Vaysechvoos. Grisha listened and became enraged. All his life he had lived in ignorance of the plight of the Jews. Now he had a Jewish wife and seeing through her eyes he felt compassion for her people. The count secured an edict the next day saying that none of the Jews in the district were to be harmed.

It wasn't until after Shabbos that the news reached Vaysechvoos. All were safe. It was a miracle! Even Reb Peretz and Fruma-Rachel rejoiced, knowing that, in a way, their Gitteleh had a part in bringing safety to the little shtetl.

Glossary

yeshiva bochur:young man who studies at a Talmudic academy

Shabbos: Sabbath

shiva: seven days of mourning

Megillah: scroll of the Book of Esther

[ Comments ]

Added: Thu, 10 Mar 2011 00:00:00 -0800
Other Articles

In the Little Shtetl of Vaysechvoos

Thu, 10 Mar 2011 00:00:00 -0800

For those who lived in the little shtetl of Vaysechvoos, no event of the year brought as much joyous anticipation as the first seder night. Each house was made spotless and bright. For the days leading up to the holiday, all chometz was removed and all the special Pesach dishes and utensils were brought out. The families eagerly awaited the gathering 'round the table and the lengthy and elaborate telling of the Pesach story. The youngest sons spent hours in practice, chanting the mah nishtana with feeling and expertise. The girls helped their mothers with preparations for the delicious Pesach meal. And so it was in each home in Vaysechvoos as Pesach approached.

However, this year the sweetness of the holiday was mixed with some concern as rumors began spreading that a pogrom could be imminent; an announcement had gone out throughout the region warning Russian parents to beware of the Jewish practice of using children's blood to prepare Pesach matzah. "Keep watch," the announcement said, "these disgusting people kidnap small children and remove some of their blood and use it to prepare their holy food. Then they dump the bodies of the children in the fields."

The townspeople shuddered at the thought of the Cossacks rampaging through their little town: "What can we do?" asked Shimon the butcher. "How can we prepare for this?" Feivel the Tanner wanted to know. This was a matter for the Sage to weigh in on, and so a meeting was called.

Meanwhile, Perchik, the son of the Tanner, who was already working as an apprentice in that craft, was giving the matter serious thought himself. It's not that he believed he had a fraction of the wisdom of the Sage, "But..." Perchik reasoned, "I need to do my part to come up with some suggestions to avert this catastrophe." Perchik thought long and hard and then it came to him, perhaps a vision from Ha Shem Himself!

As the people of Vaysechvoos filed into their synagogue, which also served as a meeting hall, the Sage addressed them,

"My dear neighbors. This is indeed a sad time for us. While we should be looking with joy to eat our Pesach seder meal in less than a week's time, instead it seems that we must plan for a pogrom. It is not safe for the women and children to remain in Vaysechvoos if the Cossacks come. They need to be taken to a safe place. I can't think of any other course to take but to get them out of the village in the next few days."

The men were shaking their heads in agreement, when young Perchik spoke up.

"I, um, wonder if I could say something. It may not be important, but can I please speak?"

The older men were somewhat annoyed at this presumptuous youngster. However, before they could put him in his place, the Sage, who is very wise, turned to Perchik and said, "Son, please go ahead. There is no age requirement on coming up with good solutions."

Perchik was nervous, but took strength from the kind words of the Sage.

"I know I'm just a boy..." he began. "...But if I could ask a question, isn't it possible that Eliahu the prophet might come to Vaysechvoos this Pesach to announce the coming of the Messiah?"

The Sage said, "All things are possible."

"Well, what if we prayed that Eliahu would come here? Could we do that?"

The Rabbi, who was also present at the meeting, stood up, smiled and spoke directly to the young man. "Young Perchik, I would like nothing better than to have my congregation pray. Prayer is a very good thing to do."

And so they did. They prayed for there to be no pogrom, for a Pesach without worry, and yes, for Eliahu to make an appearance in Vaysechvoos. There was so much fervor in the prayers that went forth over the days leading up to Pesach; many really believed that Ha Shem would intervene. And rather than the women and children leaving the village, they all stayed.

And Ha Shem indeed heard their prayers. There was no pogrom in Vaysechvoos, though word came of one in nearby Kiev. The boys got to chant the ma nishtana and the girls enjoyed cooking the holiday delicacies. The families sang and drank the Pesach wine and at the close of the seder, they waited for the arrival of the prophet.

While Eliahu did not make an appearance in Vaysechvoos that year, more than ever they strengthened their hope that Messiah would come and that Pesach and all the holidays could be celebrated without fear in the days to come

Glossary

Ma nishtana : The Four Questions
Chometz: leaven
Pesach: Passover
Matzah: unleavened bread

[ Comments ]

Added: Thu, 10 Mar 2011 00:00:00 -0800
Other Articles

In Their Own Words: Messianic Jewish Holocaust Survivors

Thu, 10 Mar 2011 00:00:00 -0800

Vera Schlamm

One of the questions I was asked frequently when I first came to this country is: "Was it really as bad in the camps as they say in the news?" Now the question is: "Was it as bad as was shown in films such as 'The Hiding Place' or 'The Holocaust'?" My answer is "Yes, except it was worse because there is no way you can show these things on T.V. or in a movie theater, and certainly no way that you can exaggerate what happened." The fact that the question is still being asked shows that we sometimes just don't want to believe the truth, and look for a way out.

When I came to believe that Jesus is the Jewish Messiah and committed my life to him, I was amazed at the questions and misunderstandings that it created. One of the main Scripture passages that spoke to me was Isaiah 53. The little I had heard about Jesus made me see very plainly that this passage is talking about him. But when I try to explain why I believe that Jesus is the Messiah, people don't want me to use the Bible.

It surprises me because, after all, that is what Judaism is based on. When I studied medicine, I had to learn what the medical books were saying, not what writers in popular magazines came up with. The same is true for my faith. One reason that I started to read the Scriptures was that I wanted to know what God had to say, not what people were saying, because I found that even in Judaism as it is practiced today, there is a great variety of interpretation and observance.

Like most Jewish people, I used to think that Christianity was a gentile religion and had nothing to do with me. But the day that I committed my life to Jesus as the Messiah, I realized that I hadn't "changed," but rather grown in my own faith.

From "An Interview with Dr. Vera Schlamm," September 1, 1985, ISSUES: A Messianic Jewish Perspective, volume 4, no. 3.

Rose Price

In early 1945, the allies were destroying the Nazi war machine faster than it could be rebuilt. There were no more ammunition factories to work in and no more beets to pull up, so [my sister] Sarah and I felt useless. We weren't needed or wanted at Bergen-Belsen anymore, so once again we were put on a train that took us deeper into Germany and stopped at Dachau.

As Sarah and I were trying to settle on the top bunk, I noticed that she seemed weaker than usual and her face looked flush. Then I saw a rash on her arms and hands. Sarah had contracted typhoid fever. Thousands had died from an epidemic of the dreaded disease, yet it was vitally important for Sarah to look as healthy as possible. The guards were on fierce lookout for anyone who had the fever, so when they came to inspect the barracks, I put my threadbare blanket over Sarah and laid on top of her. She was safe for the time being, but her fever continued to worsen. Her skin felt like a flame to the touch. "She needs medicine, probably aspirin," said a woman in our barracks.

I could not let my Sarah die. That night, I waited until everyone was asleep and made my way in the dark to the infirmary. The fear that my sister would leave me overcame my fear of being caught. Still, my heart pounded in my ears. When I finally reached the infirmary, I discovered to my amazement that it wasn't locked. I took a deep breath and tiptoed inside. I expected at least the cabinets to be locked, but to my surprise, they too were open.

I grabbed as many bottles of pills as I could carry. I couldn't read the labels in German, so I raced back to the barracks and woke the woman who said Sarah needed aspirin. We pried open Sarah's mouth and forced her to swallow some tablets every few hours. Over the next few days her fever dropped, and she began to eat on her own again. Without my sister, I knew I wouldn't survive, so I silently thanked God for sparing her, both for her sake and for mine.

From A Rose from the Ashes by Rose Price (San Francisco: Purple Pomegranate Productions, 2006). Available at http://store.jewsforjesus.org

Eliezer Urbach

At the outbreak of the Second World War, I was seventeen years old. Life was pretty good. And then on September 1, 1939, the Nazis entered our hometown and I ran away with five Polish friends. We went way east, first by train and walking. Then the Nazi armies caught us, caught all the refugees, and told everybody, "Go back home." So I came home after four or five weeks and found that the Nazis had taken over all the Jewish stores.

From sixteen to sixty, all Jewish men were kicked out, told to leave, taken to [the train] and brought to the Russian border. Then they opened the railroad cars and started shooting. So the Jews started running. I had a Jewish friend who brought my brother to me. And we were together until the summer of 1940, when the Russians exiled us to Siberia.

My brother and I tried to escape from Russia into Afghanistan. We were apprehended on the Afghan border. We were given two years of a prison term. My brother died after a year. I survived after 22 months of Soviet and Russian prison.

My uncles invited me to Brazil and I worked in a factory. A younger man who worked in the factory invited me to his church. That first night I watched a movie that moved my heart. I professed to believe that Jesus is my savior. It was May 15, 1955. He dated the Bible he gave me in Portuguese. In my house you will not see crosses, but you will see mezuzot on all doors. Everybody sees that it's a Jewish home. But Jesus is our Messiah.

From Survivor Stories: Finding Hope from an Unlikely Source, DVD, 60 min. (San Francisco: Purple Pomegranate Productions, 2004). Available at www.store.jewsforjesus.org

[ Comments ]

Added: Thu, 10 Mar 2011 00:00:00 -0800
Other Articles

Finding a New Wing of the House, at Pesach

Tue, 08 Mar 2011 00:00:00 -0800

by David Friedlander

"David, David, wake up!" I was hearing a voice, calling me from a great distance. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder shaking me and bringing me back to this reality from a deep sleep. At eight years old, I last remembered drinking two cups of wine with my family at our seder meal and, shortly thereafter, heading off to bed. Now, my brother had been sent to awaken me so I could tell the family, who were waiting at the seder table, where I had stashed the afikomen. Before heading upstairs to bed, I had surreptitiously "acquired" it from under the pillow of my father's chair at the seder table.... The wine certainly had had its effect on me.... But, I was duly informed I had to produce the afikomen so the family's seder could continue. NO afikomen, no conclusion to the seder story!

So, I awoke, best I could, and retrieved the afikomen from where I had hidden it, giving it to my father. Pieces of the afikomen were then passed to my mother, brother, two sisters and me, and all was well once again. I knew that, after Pesach, my father would reward me with the usual "fee" of gold-foil-wrapped chocolate coins, for the "feat" of stealing the afikomen. I didn't understand all this, actually, nor many other customs and practices of the seder, but who was I to argue with chocolate coins?

It would take me another 25 years to begin to unravel the answers to the questions raised in my mind by the traditional Jewish seder celebration, especially my questions relating to the afikomen. As the youngest member of an Orthodox Jewish family in New York City, I found that questioning my elders on the purpose and meaning of age-old Jewish traditions was not well received. Even as a child, I had questions like: Why kill an innocent little lamb? What's all this about leaven, anyway? Why do we break the middle matzah? And what's the reason for putting it under the pillow? Many symbols, many questions, but so few satisfying answers. But, as an eight-year-old, my job was just to sit and listen to the Exodus story each year and to learn and accept the age-old traditions of my ancestors.

In my teens, I attended yeshiva in New York and studied Jewish law, Mishnah and Talmud. After college, I moved to Colorado in search of my life's adventure. A year later, I met the woman who would later become my wife and, in 1975, we were married in a traditional Jewish wedding. Two years later, our first son was born.

In the spring of 1979, a new neighbor woman struck-up a friendship with my wife, Patti. This friendship included the woman telling my wife about Jesus and, before long, my wife "became a Christian!" How could she DO that? She then joined the neighbor woman in attending church, taking our infant son along! "But wait, we're Jewish! You can't do that! Come back!" My life was being turned upside down!

In the days that followed, during the spring of 1979, Patti would follow me wherever I went, reading to me from the New Testament. What chutzpah! "We're Jewish," I told her. "Jews don't read or need the New Testament!" But the words she had read to me had sparked a curiosity deep within me. Something profound had been stirred up. I determined that when the wife wasn't around, I would find opportunities to read one of the Gospels from the Bible my wife had "just so happened" to leave lying around. I started in Matthew. At that time, the six-hour, made-for-TV movie, Jesus of Nazareth, was having its television debut. It was to be shown in four parts, ending on Easter Sunday 1979. So, without my wife's knowledge, I secretly began reading the Gospel of Matthew and determined to read seven chapters a day, to keep pace with the showing of the movie, which I would then watch on each of the four evenings.

This two-pronged approach had results for me that were like being hit with a hammer! Matthew is the only Gospel to say "This happened that what was written by the prophets might be fulfilled." "Fulfilled?" I asked myself. How could that be? Was there more to the story that I had grown up learning at the yeshiva? I looked up the cross-references to the prophecy to which Matthew was referring, each of the nine times he used that phrase. It was like someone was showing me an entirely new wing of a house I had lived in all my life. It was astonishing! The more I read, the more I felt my eyes opening. Easter Sunday arrived, which meant nothing to me as a Jew, but I had now read the last seven chapters of Matthew and I was shell-shocked: Matthew related how the man claiming to be the Messiah of Israel was crucified and rejected by the leaders of his own people, my ancestors. How could this be?

As my wife left to attend church that evening, I turned on the TV to watch the concluding portion of the movie. Two hours later, the Messiah was crucified. The actor portraying Y'shua looked straight out from my TV screen. I "knew" he was looking right at me! His eyes pierced my heart. As he was crucified, I fell on my knees, prayed and wept. I wept for a long time, right there in front of the TV, in a pool of tears. I accepted Y'shua into my heart as my Messiah! A new wing of the house had opened its doors to me.

In my spirit, I then saw two hands coming down and, as it were, plugging together power to long strings of lights, each light representing a prior generation. I had been connected, with power, across the many generations of my Jewish ancestors, to the source of all power. I had come home! But I now had a thousand new questions, each vying for attention.

In the amazing weeks that followed, my wife became aware of my acceptance of the Messiah as she saw changes in me, and I was full of many questions. I had developed a tremendous hunger to understand, and I read the Bible like a starving man. The Easter season that year was right in the middle of Pesach. Patti met another Jewish believer in Jesus whom she invited to our house to help me understand and answer as many questions as he could. He even presented me with a Messianic Haggadah. The story of Pesach took on an entirely new dimension.

In the thirty-plus years since that day of decision, I have come to more fully understand and appreciate the Pesach seder. I see the afikomen which splits the middle matzah as representing the breaking of the body of Messiah as a sacrifice once, for all people, for all time. I also now see the wrapping of that piece of matzah in a white linen napkin and its placement under the pillow as symbolic of his death and burial. Even the buying back of the afikomen by the father for a small reward speaks to me of the Roman guards who were paid off by the Jewish priests to tell anyone who asked that the body had been stolen, as related in Matthew 28:11-15.

That afikomen is taken from its hiding place and pieces of it are shared among all seder participants at the third cup of wine which, not coincidentally, is called the Cup of Redemption, the same cup which Jesus drank at the Passover seder which we now know as the Last Supper. Most of my people do not make this connection between the Passover lamb and the Lamb of God, Y'shua. That little boy, so soundly asleep so many years ago, heard a voice awakening him from physical sleep to retrieve the afikomen. Many years later, he heard another Voice calling him to awaken him from a sleep of a deeper, spiritual dimension and, since then, nothing has ever been the same!! Dayenu!

"...for to this day the same veil remains when the old covenant is read. It has not been removed, because only in Messiah is it taken away.... But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away." 2 Corinthians 3:14,16

[ Comments ]

Added: Tue, 08 Mar 2011 00:00:00 -0800
Other Articles

Renee and Richard: A True Love Story

Fri, 11 Feb 2011 00:00:00 -0800

I never thought I'd get married, for the simple reason that I never thought I would ever meet someone who would love me just for who I am, faults and all. And then I met Renee Shulman ...

Renee and I met one afternoon at Queens College through the Hillel group on campus. I was studying geology and had just returned from a field trip. My jeans were filthy and the rest of me wasn't too clean either. I walked into the room where Hillel was meeting, sort of wondering why I was there. Truth be told, I would have rather been by myself or playing table tennis, but someone had told me I should drop by Hillel and so here I was.

From what I was told later, I understand that Renee, who had been chatting with a group of her girlfriends, stopped mid-conversation when she saw me. Then she pointed me out to her friends and said, "I'm going to marry that guy." Grubby jeans and all.

Renee and I got in the habit of going out with groups of friends, but really, we were usually in our own little world. We talked and joked and laughed and the more I got to know her, the more I liked her. I could see right off that she was truly special.

Renee grew up in New York, like me. Both of her parents were children of Russian immigrants. Her father's family wasn't very religious; he didn't have a bar mitzvah. Her mother was raised in a sort of "Conserv-odox" family; her grandfather attended synagogue and insisted his son do so, but Renee's mother received only homebased training from her mother in how to keep a proper Jewish home.

Renee, her mother and father and younger sister all celebrated the major Jewish holidays and festivals, but rarely attended synagogue, unless it was for a cousin's bar or bat mitzvah. Neither she nor her sister attended Hebrew school or became bat mitzvah.

As for me, my parents were very involved at our Conservative temple. I attended services regularly, until after I became bar mitzvah. Then I sort of lost interest in religious things.

It's funny how Renee's limited involvement in religious Judaism increased her desire to learn more about God, yet I'd been so involved in synagogue growing up, but really had so little interest in religious matters. By the time Renee and I met, we seemed to be on the same page as far as our Jewishness was concerned: we both knew we were Jewish and appreciated the cultural aspects of being Jewish -- the food, the holidays, the close family bonds -- but neither of us was what you'd call religious.

Our involvement in Hillel was primarily for social reasons. We had holiday parties for Hanukkah and Purim, but mostly, it was just a place to hang out with other students who just happened to be Jewish. God had no real place of prominence there. The rabbi in charge was a Reconstructionist and provided little, if any, spiritual guidance.

Every so often Renee and I saw people on campus handing out pamphlets. They were in T-shirts that said "Jews for Jesus." This was in the 1970s when the organization was just getting started. I didn't know much about the group, but I knew for a fact that you couldn't be Jewish and believe in Jesus. Renee and I dismissed the idea and went on with our lives. If Jews for Jesus was anything to us, it was a joke.

Renee and I dated for about seven years. And it was while we were dating that I began the custom of giving her roses, red roses. And not just for special occasions. I didn't need a holiday to tell her how much I cared for her.

On the night of October 15, 1977, I took Renee to Tiffinanny's Wine and Cheese Gallery in Valley Stream, Long Island. Before we were seated I took the maitre d' aside and told him I was getting ready to propose. We had a lovely dinner and I asked Renee to be my wife. She said yes. The next thing I knew, the maitre d' appeared and said, "Did you just propose to this young lady?" I nodded. "And did you say yes?" he asked Renee. She told him yes. "Then this is for you," he smiled and gave us a complimentary bottle of champagne. It was a wonderful night.

Renee and I were married on June 25, 1978 at Hillside House in Queens. We began settling into our home and our life together. There were kinks to iron out, good days and bad days, as every newlywed couple experiences in their first few months, but overall we were happy.

But four months into our marriage something happened that irrevocably changed things for us and threatened to tear us apart.

Renee enjoyed a close relationship with my sister Carole and one day they started talking about weddings. Carole told Renee that she knew there would be things she would want in her wedding, and then she said, "Mom can pick everything she wants someday, the flowers, the place, the colors -- but other things won't be the way she wants." And then Carole told Renee that she'd come to believe that Jesus was the Jewish Messiah.

This was news to me, and I was very upset to hear that my sister had embraced such "spoon-fed rhetoric" as I called it. Carole's newfound beliefs disrupted the harmony of our family.

One night, soon after Carole's revelation, Renee informed me that she wanted to go into the city and check out what Carole had gotten herself into. "I think I might be able to help her," Renee said.

So one Friday night she goes into Manhattan with Carole, and when she came back, I remember she went to the kitchen. I stood in the doorway and asked, "Well?"

Renee looked at me and replied, "I actually liked what they had to say. And the people were so nice -- it felt like family to me."

This was not a good day for me. Alarm bells went off in my head and before I knew it, in the fourth month of our marriage, Jesus entered into Renee's world, not mine; I wouldn't have any part of it. Renee became a believer of things that were not for me. I became angry, bitter and resentful. My nice Jewish wife, in my opinion, had become a religious fanatic, and I was alone.

I ate too much, drank too much, and my life as I knew it was pretty much over with. I loved and respected Renee, but could not embrace this Jesus she'd come to believe in.

It was a wrench in a perfectly oiled machine. Suddenly, everything always came back to Jesus. And so much of our lives were wrapped up in her congregation, always her congregation. We'd work all week (I was in the jewelry business, Renee was a customs broker) and then we couldn't even relax and enjoy Saturday, because Renee was so active at her Messianic congregation. If I was dragged to Messianic Jewish services, or gatherings of her newfound "family," I was generally unsmiling, unfriendly and distant.

She had an answer to any argument I had. Any topic or idea I raised, she brought Jesus into it. And though I refused to listen to her, she never got mad, she'd just say, "There must be a reason you are so disgruntled." And she claimed to be trusting God. She didn't get mad when I was standoffish around her friends. She understood that I thought the people were nice, but I didn't want them preaching to me. So I stayed guarded. She knew I was only there out of respect for her, because she asked me to and I loved her.

I loved Renee more than life itself. And I cherished our marriage. Renee knew that the last thing I'd ever do was hurt her. As long as I was around, I'd take care of her. And she felt the same way about me. Yet, there was always a tension, because of Jesus.

And so things went on like this for years. What had once been a joke to us was now anything but funny. You have to understand what a kind and generous person I'd found in my wife. She was forever doing things for other people: knitting for them, volunteering for one thing or another, giving of her time. She began volunteering with Jews for Jesus so much that one day I remarked sarcastically, "You're volunteering two or three times a week, Renee; you should just ask for a job."

And so she became the office manager for Jews for Jesus in New York, of all things. She worked there for seven years.

It's funny how before you know it, decades of time pass by and suddenly, you've shared almost 25 years with a person. In 2002, I lost my job of 17 years, and in 2003 Renee suffered from an adverse drug reaction, which shut down her liver.

I couldn't really grasp what was happening to the woman I loved. Her condition worsened and she became comatose. And I realized that I was going to lose her. The reality that Renee would soon leave me overcame me -- my grief was inconsolable.

I sat in the hospital between Karol and Susan, two of her Jewish friends who believed in Jesus, and I began to cry uncontrollably, with my eyes closed. A patient care attendant, Myrtle, came into the waiting room, and told me that I "had to let Jesus into my life and that he would take care of me." Not Jesus again! Not now! Not acknowledging that she was there, and not wanting to hear this, I quickly got up and walked out of the room, waving my hands over my head, saying angrily, "Thank you, thank you." I just wanted to be left alone!

Moments later I found my way to a chapel, and as I sat there alone I cried out to God, "Why?" Why was this happening to me and to Renee? I guess you could say I had an animated conversation or argument with God in that empty chapel...and yet, even as I yelled at him, I knew somehow that he was really there in a way I'd never known at any other moment of my life.

I was so angry and I just knew that that my anger would destroy me. Instinctively, because I had no idea where else to turn, I asked Jesus to take it away. Almost immediately, I felt the anger drop from me, and I was calm. But could I really trust this Jesus? Could my wife have been right all along?

The next day, still grieving and seeking some semblance of solace, I returned to the chapel, this time with Renee's Bible. I found a songbook on the seat, "Songs of the Eucharist." I found one line that sounded like I was now: "afflicted and in pain." I looked in her Bible, and I found and read the words of Psalm 69:29-34 out loud from the Scriptures:

But I am afflicted and in pain; May Your salvation, O
God, set me securely on high.
I will praise the name of God with song
And magnify Him with thanksgiving...
You who seek God, let your heart revive.
For the LORD hears the needy
And does not despise His who are prisoners...

These words unlocked my heart; I was humbled. I finally heard God's word coming from my own lips and I realized I needed his peace. I admitted I had done wrong and sinned in my life, and asked for forgiveness. I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior. My wife's friend Karol came into the chapel looking for me, and I told her what I had done, and that I now believed.

On September 5, 2003, the day that Renee died, I held her hand and spoke to her for hours. I told her it was all right, it was all right to go home to heaven to Jesus, and that I now believed as she did. I told her that I would one day join her, and sing and dance with her, and that she could tell me all the things that she had wanted to, and that I would now listen to all she had to say.

After Renee passed away, I came home and looked at our apartment. It is filled with symbols and reminders of our love for each other. The place is filled with all the roses I ever got for her -- she saved them and dried them all. And then there are the cards. I recently found one I wrote for her one Valentine's Day, which reads simply:

To my wife
My love
My life
Happy Valentine's Day to the woman I love.
Love, Richard

And that pretty much sums up exactly how I feel about Renee, this woman who spent half her life with me, who was so patient with me, who showed me such love.

If you'd told me even a few years ago that my life would turn out this way, I would have said you were certifiable. And if you'd told me what would happen the day of Renee's funeral, I wouldn't have believed you.

Renee was buried in an Orthodox Jewish cemetery, where cut flowers aren't allowed. Yet as I stood there, in mourning, waiting to bury Renee, her friend Susan walked up to me and placed something in my hand. I looked down and saw a perfect red rose petal. "I found it in the grass," she said, and I could tell she could scarcely believe it either, that God would give Renee one last rose to take with her. I placed it on my wife and said goodbye.

I once wrote to Renee that I would always be by her side. I also wrote to her once, on our anniversary: "Renee, my heart beats only for you. Our life together is my only reason for breathing. My best day was when I found you."

I still miss her more than I could ever say, and yet, I have so much to be thankful for. Every day, when I get up, the first thing I do is pray and thank God for life. I go over to Renee's picture and say the Mourner's Kaddish for her. Then I read from what used to be her Bible. I carry that Bible with me everywhere. It's the same Bible I had with me at Mt. Sinai Hospital when she died.

One of Renee's favorite passages of Scripture was Isaiah 43: 18-19:

Do not call to mind the former things,
Or ponder things of the past.
Behold, I will do something new,
Now it will spring forth;
Will you not be aware of it?
I will even make a roadway in the wilderness,
Rivers in the desert.

So when I had to figure out what kind of monument to place on the gravesite, I chose a double monument headstone. I had her side engraved with the words: "Beloved wife" and impressions of a dove and roses. I know that one day I will be placed in the ground next to her beneath the words: "Beloved husband." But that's not where the story ends, because I now know Renee and I will be reunited in heaven, and so I had the bottom of the stone engraved: "Together with God" and "Behold I will do something new."

As you can see, Renee is still very much with me as I enter this new chapter in my life. At a time when I could be in despair, God has given me great joy. It's possible that he wants to do the same for you, through Jesus. Are you willing to consider his love?

-- As told to Naomi Rothstein

[ Comments ]

Author: Richard Abend
Added: Fri, 11 Feb 2011 00:00:00 -0800
Other Articles

In The Little Shtetl Of Vaysechvoos

Sun, 23 Jan 2011 00:00:00 -0800

All were astir; the Gaon of Vilna was coming to Vaysechvoos! He would be staying in their modest village for one night on his way to Minsk.

"Who could have imagined that such a prince among Jews would want to visit this muddy little place?" marveled Lazar the Milkman.

"Such a wise and holy man in our village!" exclaimed Feivel the Tanner.

"We must prepare for such an honored guest, " remarked the rebbetzin.

And did they prepare! Vaysechvoos never looked so good. The cracks in the cabins were caulked, the mud floors were tamped and stucco whitewashed. The wooden floor of the synagogue was scraped and oiled. The townspeople even managed to lay a few cobblestones in front of the shul.

Then the people waited for the Gaon's arrival. No one could do their work, or talk about anything else. When the big carriage pulled by a team of six matched horses arrived, there was a great gasp from the crowd. Three footmen, two secretaries, two drivers and a fretful little man stepped out of the carriage before the Gaon appeared. He was taller than anyone expected, with deep eyes and a bemused smile. The Sage of Vaysechvoos greeted him.

"So many questions we have, great Sage, questions only you can answer. Please favor us with a session." The Gaon nodded and proceeded into the rabbi's house. One of his secretaries emerged to say the Gaon would hear the questions in two hours' time. And he did.

Some of the queries were quite ordinary. "How can I know that my husband really loves me?" asked one. "How much is too much or too little money to loan to a friend in need?" asked another. But the most important question that the Gaon heard that day came from Moishke the Cobbler.

"Most venerable Sage, your wisdom is renowned and we are so in need of wisdom when it comes to our relationship with the Almighty," he began. "Therefore, what advice would you offer us in preparing for the coming of the Messiah?"

The Gaon smiled, looking directly into the eyes of the cobbler. "Young man, that is a good question, worthy of a thoughtful answer. In the morning, I shall tell you."

The next morning all of the Gaon's party had settled into the carriage but the Genius stood by it with the door open. The crowd gathered close, eager to hear his answer to the cobbler's question.

He raised his hand an all were hushed. "You prepared for me by washing your homes, repairing the streets, wearing your very best clothing. These are the outward ways to welcome a person," he acknowledged. "But the most important preparation, certainly for the coming of the Messiah, takes place where only God can inspect -- in one's heart. Messiah will come when all hearts are clean and pure."

At that, most of the townspeople looked at their feet with shame, knowing that the Messiah might not be coming all that soon.

[ Comments ]

Added: Sun, 23 Jan 2011 00:00:00 -0800
Other Articles

Issues - Jews for Jesus

Hide and Seek: The Story of Holocaust Survivor Maria Weinstein

End Note

Related Topics

Did He Or Didn't He? Jewish Views of the Resurrection of Jesus

Evidence from the New Testament

Evidence from Counter-Theories

1. Stolen by the Disciples

2. Swoon Theory

3. One of Many Resurrections

Evidence from Changed Lives

Endnotes

Related Topics

The Three Symbols of Passover

The Three Symbols of Passover

Related Topics

A Chronological Look at How Jesus Spent his Last Week Leading up to Passover

Saturday and Sunday

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday

Saturday

Sunday

End Notes

Related Topics

In the Little Shtetl of Vaysechvoos

Glossary

Related Topics

In the Little Shtetl of Vaysechvoos

Glossary

Related Topics

In Their Own Words: Messianic Jewish Holocaust Survivors

Vera Schlamm

Rose Price

Eliezer Urbach

Related Topics

Finding a New Wing of the House, at Pesach

Related Topics

Renee and Richard: A True Love Story

Related Topics

In The Little Shtetl Of Vaysechvoos

Related Topics