Never in a million years did I expect my Orthodox Jewish father to come hear me give a talk about Jesus and Passover. Now, as he stood beside me, I could feel him stiffen as people were singing the most exuberant song about Jesus I’d ever heard. I knew this had to be as weird and uncomfortable for him as it once would have been for me. Why hadn’t I thought to tell him that he might prefer to wait in the lobby until I was called up to speak? I found myself glancing sideways at my dad’s tight-lipped expression every few seconds. And then he walked out of the room.

A Pillar of the Jewish Community

My father was a larger-than-life kind of guy. People loved his sense of humor—and whenever he walked into a room, he made his presence known. Everybody knew who he was, because he was an integral part of any community that he was involved in—especially the Orthodox Jewish community where I grew up in South Africa.

My father’s father was the mayor of our town, as was his father before him. So, Dad always felt he had a legacy to uphold, and he made sure my siblings and I felt it too. Our family was involved in day-to-day synagogue life at pretty much every level. My father served many terms as the chairman of the synagogue. He was part of the Chevra Kadisha, the group that looks after the impoverished members of the community and makes certain that the proper rituals are performed for those who die.

A Traitor in the Family

So, you can imagine how horrified my father was when I told him that I believed that Jesus was our Messiah. Didn’t I know it was a shanda for any Jewish person to turn to Jesus? How could I do this to our family?

He would have rather heard I had a problem with drugs.

It was as though he thought this was the absolute worst thing I could have done. Yes, he’d been disappointed when I didn’t choose to be as religious as he’d raised me to be, but we still had a pretty decent relationship. But now? Frankly, he would have rather heard that I had a problem with drugs than to hear I had (what he considered) a problem with Jesus. From his perspective, I had defected and disgraced our family. I was a traitor.

When my father was upset, he made sure you knew it. For me, the worst of it was that he completely rejected my (then) girlfriend—and refused to come to our wedding. That hurt so deeply that I wasn’t sure if or how we could ever come back from it.

A Commitment to Care No Matter What

The easiest way to stop the pain would have been to stop caring—but we knew we couldn’t do that. It was not only because I loved and missed my father, but because reconciliation is such an important part of our faith. So, Cara and I looked for ways to make peace with my folks, to let them know that we still cared and wanted to see them.

We began attending family dinners. Slowly but surely, we worked to rebuild a relationship with my dad. Eventually, his personality seemed to have softened a little, and from time to time, he would even ask me about our beliefs.

One day, my father surprised me by telling me that he was actually jealous of Cara and me. “Really?” I said. “Why are you jealous of us?” He said, “I see how you lead your lives and how you conduct yourselves, and I know it’s because of your faith.” He didn’t say it outright, but I think he wanted me to know that he appreciated how we hadn’t held a grudge against him—and he sensed that it had to do with Jesus.

Curiosity Got the Better of Him

My father became good friends with Cara’s dad, who had been a Christian for four decades. So, he was talking to my father about Jesus as well. Over the years, Dad seemed to be meeting Christians everywhere, and they kept telling him about Jesus. Meanwhile, my father saw that my Jewish identity had become more meaningful to me than ever, and that Cara and I were committed to raising our son Levi to know and love his Jewish heritage.

In 2022, a work opportunity came up for me in Canada, and we made the difficult decision to move. There were still some unresolved issues with my father, and I longed to close the gap before relocating such a long distance away.

As we were preparing to move, a dear friend approached me to speak at an event she was hosting. She knew that I frequently spoke in churches about Passover and had heard me explain how our redemption from Egypt foreshadowed an even greater redemption the Messiah was to bring. My presentation includes how Jesus celebrated Passover, and how Christianity is actually based on what he said and did during this Jewish holiday.

Anyway, this friend was inviting people she knew to hear about Jesus and Passover at a boutique hotel, and she wanted me to be the presenter. I agreed, and then she said, “Hey, Aden, why don’t you invite your dad to come?”

My father had never come to hear me speak publicly before, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask, so I invited him—and he said yes! I was happily surprised, and a little nervous because I did not know how he would respond.

The Answer to a Passover Prayer

Which brings us back to that night, when he walked out during the first song. When the song ended I looked around, but my father was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t know what to do. So, I just prayed, Oh God, please do something! And by the third song, he was back at my side.

As I went up to speak, I didn’t know what to expect and I certainly never imagined what was about to happen.

Halfway through my presentation, I was describing how the people of Israel had to take the blood of a perfect lamb, dip into it with a hyssop branch, and mark the doorposts of their homes with that blood. As I describe it, I typically motion with my hand to help people envision how the blood was applied to the door.

That’s when my father, who had been watching and listening intently, stood up and threw his hands in the air. I stopped and looked at him and saw that he was crying and even shaking. I got an inner sense that something had just suddenly changed for him. The whole room was watching. So I walked over to him, looked him in the eyes, and said, “You know, don’t you, Dad?” And he nodded. He knew that Jesus was the Messiah.

I prayed with him like we had never prayed before.

As a boy, I had prayed with my father countless times in synagogue, chanting the liturgy and davening. But now I prayed with him like we had never prayed before. I took his hands and told him that he could ask God to forgive him based on Yeshua’s (Jesus’) sacrifice—and he did! My Orthodox Jewish father told God that he wanted to give his life to Yeshua as his Messiah and Lord.

The change in my father was dramatic. He asked Cara for forgiveness and said the most incredible things to her about how glad he was to have her in the family. God had clearly set him free from anger and resentment—he was lovely and quick to ask for forgiveness. He even reconciled with my mom. They had divorced, so it was really something when he reached out to reconcile with her. God had done something new in my father’s heart and it made a huge difference in how he saw himself and others.

Seven months later, my father passed away. When I came home for the funeral, and I went back to his house for the first time in a long time. And there, next to his bed, he had put a wedding picture of Cara and me. I know I’ll see my dad again one day. . . maybe we’ll even dance the hora that he missed at our wedding. But till then, I guess it’s my turn to be just a little jealous of my father. Dad is with our Messiah, and I’m sure he now has the answers to all the questions he ever had—and more.