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Some of the most widely relatable experiences are those least talked about. Near the top of that list: mental health issues. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), “Neuropsychiatric disorders are the leading cause of disability in the U.S.”<a href="#_edn1" name="_ednref1">1</a> Although there are many disorders and illnesses that plague the human mind, there are a few that are wildly rampant today. Depression alone affects more than 264 million people worldwide<a href="#_edn2" name="_ednref2">2</a>—even 1.9 million children, ages 3–17, have been diagnosed. In the United States, anxiety is the most common mental illness, affecting 40 million adults annually (roughly 18% of the population).<a href="#_edn3" name="_ednref3">3</a> What’s more, such issues can affect the Jewish community at disproportionate rates; a 1997 study reported that Jewish males experienced a higher rate of major depression than all non-Jews combined.<a href="#_edn4" name="_ednref4">4</a>
Amidst the COVID-19 pandemic, these issues have only intensified. “Symptoms of anxiety disorder and depressive disorder increased considerably in the United States,” the Center for Disease Control (CDC) reports, recommending that “the public health response to the COVID-19 pandemic should increase intervention and prevention efforts to address associated mental health conditions.” In other words, we can no longer afford to be bad at discussing mental health.<a href="#_edn5" name="_ednref5">5</a>
<h6>In reality, mental health issues aren’t a strange new phenomenon, a sign of weakness, or a sin.</h6>
In recent years, the stigma surrounding mental health has been shifting as discussion on the topic has become increasingly normalized. Yet conversations about mental health issues are still not nearly as prevalent as the experience of these issues themselves. Serious disorders and illnesses have been downplayed, mislabeled, and mistreated, both by those suffering from them and those who are not. In some religious or traditional communities, such issues are disregarded or even shamed when they are conflated with spiritual or moral struggles. In reality, mental health issues aren’t a strange new phenomenon, a sign of weakness, or a sin; they’ve been plaguing humanity throughout our existence, and the Tanakh is filled with examples.
<h3>Mental Health Issues in the Hebrew Scriptures</h3>
Many major players in the Hebrew Scriptures likely struggled with common mental health issues. Though we can’t definitively diagnose our ancestors, we can identify some key symptoms recognized by many modern psychologists as being consistent with depression, anxiety, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), eating disorders, and expression of suicidal thoughts. Here are just a few examples from Scripture:
Elijah: The prophet called down fire from heaven, performed amazing works of God, and defeated the prophets of Baal. Immediately after this miraculous victory, “he sat down under a solitary broom tree and prayed that he might die. ‘I have had enough, Lord,’ he said. ‘Take my life, for I am no better than my ancestors who have already died’” (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Kings%2019:4&amp;version=NLT">1 Kings 19:4</a>). Outwardly, this may seem like an illogical order of events, but the disconnect between the actual events and Elijah’s reaction indicate an internal struggle. Though God worked through the prophet to do wondrous things, Elijah still clearly wrestled with feelings of hopelessness and inadequacy, even to the point of idealizing death.
Job: After losing his children, his livestock, and being struck with painful sores, Job is thrown into grief and possibly also depression. But there may have been additional symptoms indicative of other issues: “When I think my bed will comfort me and my couch will ease my complaint, even then you frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions, so that I prefer strangling and death, rather than this body of mine. I despise my life; I would not live forever. Let me alone; my days have no meaning” (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Job%207:13-16&amp;version=NIV">Job 7:13-16</a>). After the sudden trauma of loss, Job says he is tormented by visions and dreams. These could easily have been symptomatic of PTSD, something that is common in individuals who have had experiences like Job.
Hannah: The mother of Samuel struggled with infertility for years prior to his birth. She undoubtedly felt isolation and shame, surrounded by social pressures, thriving families, and a well-meaning husband who didn’t understand her pain. 1 Samuel tells us, “Hannah would be reduced to tears and would not even eat . . . [she] was in deep anguish, crying bitterly as she prayed to the Lord” (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Samuel+1%3A7%2C10&amp;version=NLT">1 Samuel 1:7, 10</a>). This cyclical pain persisted for years, affecting her mood, feelings of self-worth, and possibly even causing an eating disorder.
David: He was a highly favored king, “a man after God’s own heart,” and yet he, too, likely suffered from depression, feeling anxious and fearful, betrayed, and hopeless. In his <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm%2040&amp;version=NIV">fortieth Psalm</a>, he lamented, “My heart fails within me,” and again in the <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm+43&amp;version=ESV">forty-third Psalm</a>, “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?” Throughout the Psalms, David expresses a lot of ongoing internal turmoil and anger—and he wasn’t afraid to be honest with God or with himself about it.
These were all people of God. Why then were they struggling with depression, anxiety, and even idealizing death? Were these feelings wrong?
<h3>Are mental health issues a sin?</h3>
By its very nature, depression can make us feel isolated, distant from God and from the people around us. (David clearly felt this way, too: “Why do you hide your face from me?” [<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+88%3A14&amp;version=ESV">Psalm 88:14</a>].) The ideas that we are worthless, isolated, or abandoned by God are blatant lies. Falsehoods like these form the illusory foundation on which many mental health issues are built. The truth is that we have inherent and unique value as God’s creation, with every hair on our head and every day of our lives known and accounted for. We know for a fact that God has never and will never abandon us (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Deuteronomy%2031:6&amp;version=ESV">Deuteronomy 31:6</a>).
<h6>Though the ideas planted in our minds by these disorders are lies, the felt experiences caused by them are a true reality.</h6>
Though the ideas planted in our minds by conditions like depression, anxiety, or PTSD are lies, the felt experiences caused by these disorders are a true reality. Emotions themselves aren’t good or bad—they’re simply facts, intrinsic to our identity as humans. What we choose to do as a result of our emotions can cause us to thrive or wither, be helpful or harmful. Anger isn’t a sin; choosing to hate someone as a result of that anger, however, is.
Mental illnesses aren’t sins; they’re disorders. They are caused by any number or combination of factors, ranging everywhere from trauma and physical illnesses to genetics and hormonal imbalances. Almost all contributing causes are outside of one’s control and don’t indicate weakness, lack of faith, or grave misstep. God doesn’t judge us for our serotonin levels any more than He judges us for our blood type, and neither should we. Not only did some of the greatest biblical figures struggle through periods of intense mental anguish—but Yeshua (Jesus) himself did, too.
<h3>Did Jesus experience depression?</h3>
Yeshua, the Son of God, lived a perfect, devout, Torah-following life and had an intimate connection with God. But he wasn’t popular—he was betrayed (by a close friend, no less), falsely accused, and publicly disowned (another close friend). When he willingly sacrificed himself, dying like a criminal in order to become our atonement, he took on all of the sins of humanity. He became the very embodiment of the sin of man, and God couldn’t even look at him. It was then that Yeshua was utterly separated from God. He cried out in Aramaic, “‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ which means ‘My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?’” (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+27%3A46&amp;version=NLT">Matthew 27:46</a>).
He was quoting these words from David himself. Yeshua lived the lies often told to us by depression—that we are alone, abandoned by God. Except for him, this wasn’t a lie; God had actually left him. It was the worst death ever suffered, because Yeshua is the only person who has experienced a true and complete abandonment from God.
Because of this atonement, our sins don’t separate us from God, and neither do mental health disorders. In short: “Nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in [Messiah Yeshua] our Lord” (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+8%3A39&amp;version=NLT">Romans 8:39</a>).
<h3>Strengthening Our Emotional Intelligence</h3>
Though rampant in both historical and modern society, we’re still woefully ill-equipped to discuss and manage mental health issues. One in four people in the world are affected by mental or neurological disorders at some point in their lives, but nearly two-thirds never seek help from a health professional.<a href="#_edn6" name="_ednref6">6</a> How can we change the culture of silence and stigma?
<h6>Moving towards holistic health takes practical action, both by those suffering and those seeking to support them.</h6>
Moving towards holistic health takes practical action, both by those suffering and those seeking to support them. Jesus’ brother, James, clearly understood that practical problems need to be met with practical solutions, saying, “If a brother or sister is without clothing and in need of daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, be warmed and be filled,’ and yet you do not give them what is necessary for their body, what use is that?” (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=James+2%3A15-16&amp;version=NLT">James 2:15-16</a>). So what are some tangible ways we can move towards mental wellness, both in ourselves and as we support those around us?
<ol>
	<li>Begin to verbalize. First, we have to start the conversation. Those suffering shouldn’t do so in silence but feel empowered to be honest. At first, it can be awkward and understandably difficult to find the words to express such feelings. Like learning a new language, verbalizing emotions, internal processes, and physical responses takes practice. But it’s better to stumble over the words than to never speak them; silence only amplifies the voices of the lies that depression and anxiety tell us. By bringing the pain into the light, we expose the lies that thrive in darkness.</li>
	<li>Destigmatize mental health issues in our communities. The American Psychiatric Association (APA) says, “Many Holocaust survivors experience mental health disorders, including PTSD and survivor guilt. Even second and third generation descendants of Holocaust survivors also show a higher prevalence of PTSD and other psychiatric symptoms.”<a href="#_edn7" name="_ednref7">7</a> Those who experience anti-Semitism have reported short- and long-term mental health consequences similar to those experienced from other traumatic experiences.<a href="#_edn8" name="_ednref8">8</a> Simultaneously, the APA reports: “Mental illness carries considerable stigma in some Jewish communities, especially Hasidim.”<a href="#_edn9" name="_ednref9">9</a> This example of a double bind isn’t limited to the Jewish community, or even to religious communities. Many people perpetuate stigmas around mental illness that stifle dialogue.</li>
	<li>Get comfortable being uncomfortable. In order for healthy conversation to begin, there must be a safe space in which individuals can become vulnerable without the illogical perception that these disorders are somehow signs of weakness, dramatizing, or wrongdoing. We must learn to listen and help well, even if it means sitting with some discomfort.</li>
	<li>Realize our instincts aren’t always helpful. A tendency many have is to combat perceived negativity with positivity. Many have a valid and understandable fear that we’ll lean too heavily into one reality, become blind to the other, and veer down a biased and unbalanced path. Well-intentioned “on the bright side” statements, however, rarely achieve this “balance.” In fact, they often bring about the opposite outcome we were going for. Likewise, fixating on the logical order of events from our own perspectives and advising accordingly not only means we’re acting without the full breadth of necessary information, but it causes us to lose sight of the point altogether. These are understandable tactics, meant to fix or undo the problem by introducing something that could negate it. However, if our goal is to help those in need, we don’t achieve it by denying or negating the undesirable parts of reality. Health isn’t seeing, feeling, and vocalizing only positive things. Health is being able to balance and hold the full truth. This means realizing that positive and negative realities co-exist. They don’t have to be at war just because they are in tension.</li>
	<li>Hold the full truth. It’s often only after we acknowledge the difficult parts of our realities that we can make room to see the rest of the picture. In the Psalms, David brought all his depressed, anxious, and angry thoughts and urges to God. Afterward, he often ended the chapters in an abrupt and surprisingly positive note. Once he expressed the turmoil he felt, he was able to remind himself of the truth (whether or not he felt it) and go through the (sometimes painful) exercise of praising God, anyway. Though in tension, both his pain and his praise were true realities.</li>
</ol>
<h6>By acknowledging the pain of another, we can help make room for the rest of the truth.</h6>
This balancing act takes true strength, and we can’t always do it on our own. By acknowledging the pain of another, we can help make room for the rest of the truth. Conversations about mental health don’t bring about instantaneous resolutions. But by taking these steps to become more emotionally intelligent and expansive individuals, we can equip ourselves with the tools needed to move towards health.
<h3>Starting the Conversation</h3>
Mental health issues aren’t a burden meant to be carried alone. After Elijah collapsed under a tree in despair, God sent an angel to take care of him and equip him for the next steps he had to take. Hannah went straight to God for help, and He used Eli the priest to give her the divine assurance she needed to bring her relief. Whether you begin by talking to God, a friend, your rabbi/pastor/spiritual leader, a therapist, or even just to yourself for now, we must begin.
When people came to Yeshua to be healed, he often asked, “What do you want me to do for you?” He didn’t assume what the problem was, even though it may have seemed obvious to outsiders (e.g., “Um, Jesus, he’s blind. Obviously, heal his blindness!”). Instead, Yeshua asked where they were at, involving those in need in the process of their own healing. Likewise, God invites us into a dialogue about our pain, fears, and needs—because He can handle it. When we acknowledge the fullness of our reality, we position ourselves to see the fullness of God’s power.
&nbsp;
<h4>Endnotes:</h4>
<a href="#_ednref1" name="_edn1">1.</a> World Health Organization, “U.S. Leading Categories of Diseases/Disorders,”d., National Institute of Mental Health, accessed September 2, 2020, <a href="https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/disability/us-leading-categories-of-diseases-disorders.shtml">https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/disability/us-leading-categories-of-diseases-disorders.shtml</a>.
<a href="#_ednref2" name="_edn2">2.</a> “Depression,” World Health Organization, 2020, <a href="https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/depression">https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/depression</a>.
<a href="#_ednref3" name="_edn3">3.</a>“Facts &amp; Statistics,” Anxiety and Depression Association of America, n.d., accessed September 3, 2020, <a href="https://adaa.org/about-adaa/press-room/facts-statistics">https://adaa.org/about-adaa/press-room/facts-statistics</a>.
<a href="#_ednref4" name="_edn4">4.</a> Levav et al., “Vulnerability of Jews to affective disorders,” National Center for Biotechnology Information, 1997, <a href="https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/9210744/">https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/9210744/</a>.
<a href="#_ednref5" name="_edn5">5.</a> “Mental Health, Substance Use, and Suicidal Ideation During the COVID-19 Pandemic—United States, June 24–30, 2020,” Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report (MMWR), Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 2020, <a href="https://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/volumes/69/wr/mm6932a1.htm">https://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/volumes/69/wr/mm6932a1.htm</a>.
<a href="#_ednref6" name="_edn6">6.</a> “Mental disorders affect one in four people,” World Health Report, n.d., World Health Organization, accessed September 8, 2020, <a href="https://www.who.int/whr/2001/media_centre/press_release/en/">https://www.who.int/whr/2001/media_centre/press_release/en/</a>.
<a href="#_ednref7" name="_edn7">7.</a> Sharon Packer, et al., “Stress &amp; Trauma Toolkit for Treating Jewish Americans in a Changing Political and Social Environment,” d., American Psychiatric Association, accessed September 10, 2020, <a href="https://www.psychiatry.org/psychiatrists/cultural-competency/education/stress-and-trauma/jewish-americans">https://www.psychiatry.org/psychiatrists/cultural-competency/education/stress-and-trauma/jewish-americans</a>.
<a href="#_ednref8" name="_edn8">8.</a> Kate M. Loewenthal, “Anti-Semitism and its mental health effects,” Royal College of Psychiatrists, 2017, <a href="https://www.rcpsych.ac.uk/docs/default-source/members/sigs/spirituality-spsig/kateloewenthallantisemitismanditsmentalhealtheffects.pdf?sfvrsn=79c90f3a_2">https://www.rcpsych.ac.uk/docs/default-source/members/sigs/spirituality-spsig/kateloewenthallantisemitismanditsmentalhealtheffects.pdf?sfvrsn=79c90f3a_2</a>.
<a href="#_ednref9" name="_edn9">9.</a> Packer, “Stress &amp; Trauma Toolkit,” n.d.

Why We Can’t Afford to be Bad at Discussing Mental Health Anymore

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America needs Jewish people like never before. I'm not talking about Bernie, Bibi, Bloomberg, or even Jared Kushner. I'm suggesting that our country desperately needs the Jewish practice of arguing as friends.
<h3>Argument Builds Community and Furthers Learning</h3>
In Judaism, arguing is a form of scholarship. Rabbinical discussions around biblical and Talmudic texts are called Pilpul, and while that word metaphorically means to dispute violently, its literal meaning is taken from the word for pepper or spice.<a href="#_edn1" name="_ednref1">1</a> This says a lot about Jewish people in general, who find a good argument as something that spices or flavors life.
Today in America, we don't know how to argue with one another. Our "cancel culture" feels akin to guillotining in the French Revolution. A friend calls it "heretic hunting." We listen to people only to find some heresy or flaw in their language or thinking. Many people are afraid to converse at all because they worry about saying the wrong thing.
<h6>In our culture's approach to arguing, far from being something that divides people, it is a sign of care.</h6>
Historically, Jewish people are famous for argument. But in our culture's approach to arguing, far from being something that divides people, it is a sign of care. As a relationship counselor, my specialization is in working with intercultural couples. One of my favorite moments with a couple was when a non-Jewish wife shared that she felt tension in the home because, "You are always fighting with your father on the phone." Her Jewish partner responded, "I never fight with my father." To him, it seemed normal to have disagreements. Ironically, if his father never argued with him, it would be a sign of indifference and distance in their relationship. For many Jewish families, it is precisely because they care about each other that they engage with one another. If something is important, we want the people we love to know about it.
In Jewish culture, arguing is often seen as a way to learn. Though we may come off as opinionated, in reality, we're often willing to shift positions after a healthy and stimulating bout of discussion. Rahm Emanuel, former White House chief of staff and former mayor of Chicago, said that in his family of origin, when you sat down to dinner, you needed to say what you thought and be able to defend it.<a href="#_edn2" name="_ednref2">2</a> Arguing has been a means of articulating and clarifying thought.
<h6>When we are unable to converse and be challenged by people with different views, we cannot refine our own thoughts.</h6>
Practicing two traits from the Hebrew Scriptures would help us all to live in a more engaged, teachable society: wisdom and humility.
<h3>Wisdom and Humility: Ancient Ideas for Modern Times</h3>
The book of Proverbs (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+16%3A16&amp;version=TLV">16:16</a>) talks about wisdom as more valuable than gold or reputation. The pursuit of wisdom and understanding is the pursuit of life. Wisdom in the Bible is not necessarily a function of intelligence, power, or education. A simple person can be wise. Wisdom is staying in tune with truth and reality and keeping in touch with how God sees the world. We go to wise people when we have hard decisions. They are people who seem to just have natural intuition about deeper things in life.
One of the key ways to grow in wisdom is through receiving criticism. Proverbs says, "Rebuke the wise and they will love you, instruct the wise and they will be wiser still" (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+9%3A8b%E2%80%939a&amp;version=TLV">Proverbs 9:8b–9a</a>). Wise people love to learn things they don't know and see things they didn't see before. This doesn't mean a rebuker is always right, but that their challenge or correction provides an opportunity to think about something differently.
<h6>Every conversation with a person, regardless of their views, is an opportunity to contemplate something new and to add some angle of calculus to your understanding.</h6>
In order to take that posture with others, we need that second trait: humility. This attribute gets a bad rap these days, as it is too often associated with weakness. But in the Bible, it is far from weakness. It is a strength that characterizes great leaders. Moses, for example, is described in the Bible as the humblest person in the world (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=numbers+12%3A3&amp;version=TLV">Numbers 12:3</a>). He did not do anything out of self-interest. He foreshadowed the Messiah Jesus in that way, whose great act of humility would be a willingness to lay down his life for others.<a href="#_edn3" name="_ednref3">3</a> Business guru Jim Collins, in his study of great industry leaders, found that humility is one of the differentiating traits that separates a great corporate leader from a good one.<a href="#_edn4" name="_ednref4">4</a>
<h3>Wisdom and humility work together.</h3>
Wisdom and humility work together. A wise person has the humility to recognize that as much as they might know, there is always far more they don't know. It is the wise and humble person who is keenly aware of their own limitations. It is the wise and humble person who doesn't have to always be seen as right or win an argument. It is the wise and humble person who understands that in a disagreement with a loved one, the relationship is far more important than being acknowledged as right. A wise and humble person knows that getting one's way is not a goal.
How might we practice and develop wisdom and humility in an intensely charged political moment? We keep in mind four truths.
<h3>1. People with different views are not our enemies.</h3>
When we are talking to someone who disagrees with us, or holds a view that we consider dangerous, or even believes we should pass a law which we are convinced would cause serious damage, that person is not an enemy. This person is made in God's image, valuable just because they are a person. They are flawed just like us. Deep down, we already know that that person is far more important than the issue we are dealing with. Ask yourself what you would do if, right now, that person suddenly collapsed, or you saw a car was going to hit them, or you found out their child was being taken to the hospital. Their opinions and your entire discussion would suddenly become irrelevant compared to the urgent need of caring for them. The wise and humble person keeps this reality in mind in the midst of every interaction.
<h3>2. We often agree on more than we think.</h3>
It is tempting in discussion to forget the agreement we have with someone, focusing instead on a small part of the disagreement, and end up feeling like we live on completely different islands. For instance, almost everyone agrees that having so many people incarcerated in our country is a disaster. It does more to damage those incarcerated than it does to rehabilitate them, and it is an incredible expense that could be spent in so many better ways. But typically, what happens in a discussion of this issue is, we either start disagreeing about how this happened or arguing about what to do about it. We forget that all of us think this is a tragedy and want to fix it. Healthy, productive, and unifying conversations take place between people who remember what we agree on.
<h3>3. Language can be more divisive than substance.</h3>
In today's culture, language often gets weaponized. A helpful term becomes an unhelpful label when it is used to shut down dialogue. The wise and humble person doesn't react to language, but tries to get at the heart of what a person is trying to say. Instead, we try to believe the best of someone—that they (and we) probably don't really know what some term exactly means. Far more important than a label or a term is what we are trying to say about it.
<h3>4. Listening is more than taking turns speaking.</h3>
When we try to dialogue with people, we think civility means that we take turns speaking. But instead of listening to one another, we are simply waiting our turn to say something. That is not dialogue, it is two monologues. A dialogue involves actually listening to another person when we don't already know what we want to say next. One way to tell if we are trading monologues rather than having a dialogue is if we find ourselves repeating the same arguments. True dialogues are alive, and the conversation should change, grow, and progress. Each person should learn something from the experience—if not new information, at least something about the other person.
As we approach this politically charged season, let's be people of wisdom and humility who, while feeling the temptation to run or get mad, instead, with courage, engage in healthy, meaningful, caring, and productive discussions.
&nbsp;
<h4>Endnotes</h4>
<a href="#_ednref1" name="_edn1">1.</a> <a href="http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/12153-pilpul">http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/12153-pilpul</a>
<a href="#_ednref2" name="_edn2">2.</a> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pdmFhgjNO1s">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pdmFhgjNO1s</a>
<a href="#_ednref3" name="_edn3">3.</a> <a href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/philippians/2/6-8">Philippians 2:6–8</a> (ESV)
<a href="#_ednref4" name="_edn4">4.</a> Jim Collins, "Level 5 Leadership," chap. 2 in Good to Great (New York: HarperCollins, 2001).

The Jewish Way to Argue Without Losing Friends

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<h2>Have You Met the Real Jesus?</h2>
Some of the popular ideas about Jesus that we’re familiar with today don’t remotely capture what the original biographies of his life tell us about him.
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Have You Met the Real Jesus

Yoel and Adel Ben David live in Israel. They married when they were 20 and were involved in the Hasidic Breslov movement. Here is their story.
I was born in Israel and lived there for the first three years of my life," Yoel begins. "My father worked for a hotel chain, so we lived in the Caribbean, England and Paris over the next sixteen years, and then came back to Israel.
"My mother is a proud Moroccan Jew; my father is Scottish. My Mum was very forceful with our Jewishness. She had served with the Israeli Defense Force during the Yom Kippur War. Every time there was anything about Israel on the television, or anything about anyone Jewish, she made us aware of it!
"We were a traditional Jewish family rather than religious. We sat down every Friday night, and because my dad was not Jewish and I was the eldest son, I said the Kiddush, the blessing over the wine. We ate our meal and then, like any other family, we went into the living room and watched television. An Orthodox Jew, of course, would not use any electricity and certainly would not watch TV on Shabbat!"
Adel's background is quite different. Her parents were from Latvia and in 1978 moved to Berlin, where Adel was born.
"Was brought up in a Russian culture while living in Berlin. My mother died when I was very young, so my grandmother brought me up, and I can remember asking her, 'Am I German or am I Russian?' And she would answer me, 'You're Jewish!' As a child I couldn't understand that. On holy days we would go to the synagogue, but it was more of a social event than religious observance for us.
"I lived in Berlin until I was nineteen. Then I came to Israel and met Yoel at the ulpan [language school], and a year later we were married! I was involved in New Age philosophy, and Yoel wasn't a practicing Jew. What connected us in those early days was philosophizing about God."
Yoel continues: "In my teenage years I went to the vicar at the school in England and asked him to give me some books about God, including the Koran and some Hindu writings. The real shock for me was that he didn't try to dissuade me. As I was reading the Koran on my bed, the thought came to me that if God exists, I shouldn't really need to read these books. Rather, he should just show up.
"So I said, 'God, if you're real, show up.' And before me I saw the face of Jesus! I looked at him and I felt a presence in my room, and I felt afraid. I saw a clear vision of God—and ignored it. I decided it was a figment of my imagination.
"When I came to Israel and met Adel, we were really searching to find the truth. We decided that if we believed in God, we were being hypocritical if we didn't do something about our Judaism. We went through different stages. At first it was observing Shabbat. Then I began to study the Torah and other writings. Next it was practicing the holidays.
"We became more Haredi (Orthodox). We left the language school. We were living together, so gradually the idea of doing that and not being married seemed wrong. We were faced with a choice: separate or get married. We knew we were right for each other, so why wait?
"We approached the Breslov movement, but I still prayed in a Chabad (Lubavitch) synagogue, where I began studying Talmud with the local rabbi. I wore a big kippah (skull cap) and tsitsit (prayer tassels) and grew the peot (earlocks). I learned more about the difference between laws from the Torah and those added by the rabbis.
"As my enrollment into the army was coming up, we decided to move to Jerusalem. The atmosphere was more religious there than in Tel Aviv, so we thought we would feel more at home.
"We picked up the basics of Jewish mysticism. There are ten Sephirot or vessels in what is called the tree of life. Each time we say the name of God in the Siddur, rabbinic authorities have the name for a different vessel to meditate upon, to focus on the mystical method through which God has created the world.
"We also engaged in the mystical side of Hasidic Judaism through the writings of the founder of the Breslov movement, Rabbi Nachman. He was famous for many different sayings, among them (I paraphrase) 'all the commandments mean nothing without love.' Non-Hasids focus on the laws rather than the experiential."
For one and a half years, Yoel and Adel attempted to live a "religious" life. Despite their best efforts, they were disappointed. "I felt I hadn't found what I was looking for," says Adel. "Something was wrong. I thought that if I could find a combination of New Age and Judaism, my search would be over.
"However, everything changed when we met Judy. An elderly lady from Richmond, Virginia, she was the aunt of a friend. We invited her over and she started talking about God as though she knew him! She challenged us to read the Bible for ourselves. This was something we weren't used to. Her parting words that first night were, 'If you want to know God, just read the Torah.' Up until that time I had struggled to read it. I decided to read the Torah. In fact we raced each other to read it!"
For Adel, to distance herself from the Orthodox community was easy. But for Yoel, then serving in the Rabbinical Corps in the army, it was more difficult. He says: "When I'd finished reading the five books of Moses, I began to realize I had a problem with the daily service I had to attend in the synagogue with all the other soldiers. They were just going through the motions, saying the prayers as fast as they could. I couldn't say them that fast and mean it. So I told my fellow soldiers I would wait until they'd finished praying, then I would go into the synagogue and pray by myself."
"Meanwhile," Adel continues, "Judy became like family to us. But I worked most evenings, whereas Yoel worked during the day and had evenings free. So he would spend many hours discussing the Bible with Judy, which meant I was missing out!"
"I started reading Isaiah," Yoel recalls, "and when I got to chapter 53 I didn't understand it, so I went to see Judy. We didn't know it then, but she'd been praying for nine months for an opportunity to speak with us about Jesus. So when I knocked on her door and asked her to explain Isaiah 53, she sat me down with a cup of tea and started telling me about Jesus.
"My initial reaction was to think I'd been deceived. Why hadn't she told me about Jesus before? But as she continued talking, I started to sense what I now know to be the presence of God. I had begun to notice it when I was praying in the synagogue on my own. As Judy kept speaking, gradually the presence of God increased.
"Then I said in my mind, You know what, God? If this is true, then I'm going to go with my heart—I will believe. And at that moment, I saw the same vision that I had seen three years before, sitting on my bed in England with the Koran next to me. I saw the face of Jesus. And then I knew, and I told Judy I was ready to believe. She gave me a tiny copy of the New Testament and I took it home, where I found Adel sitting on our bed, still reading the five books of Moses!
"'Something terrible has happened!' I announced. 'Jesus is the Messiah!'"
"I thought that couldn't be true," Adel admits. "A guy came along and people followed him and that became a new religion. Was that supposed to be the truth? Call it pride, but I'd been searching so high and so deep, it couldn't possibly be that! I didn't want it to be. At the same time, I knew that nothing would make Yoel change his mind unless he really believed it.
"So I decided to read the New Testament that Judy had given Yoel, and was very surprised. I read through Matthew's Gospel and by the end I had tears in my eyes. It was not what I had expected. I couldn't find anything I disagreed with. I became upset and asked myself, How come I've not read this before? After all, I'd grown up in Germany where I could easily have read the New Testament, unlike in Israel, where religious Jews are forbidden to read it. I hadn't understood that I was a sinner and needed forgiveness. And so I too came to believe that Jesus was the Messiah."
Yoel and Adel's story reveals a deep search for God; a search that brought them together in the first place and didn't abate until they found what they were looking for.

A Hasidic Couple Encounters Their Messiah

My parents, who are originally from Detroit, Michigan, found the Messiah through the Jesus Movement" in the early seventy's. They solidified their commitment to Him some years later after moving to Seattle. Being the first of six kids I was always the first to experience things—including Yeshua. When I was around twelve, we began going to a Messianic congregation to learn more about our Jewish roots. About a year later, I carried on an old family tradition by having a bar mitzvah, but began a new tradition by giving this one a Messianic flavor. My Haftorah<a href="#_edn1" name="_ednref1">1</a> portion was Isaiah 1:18, "though your sins be like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow." It was only years later that the true meaning of these words changed my life.
In 1990, we moved to Israel. I was fifteen and had no idea that the most difficult time in my life lay ahead. We moved to a settlement called Neve Tsoof where I found only a handful of people my age. I was spiritually dry, and found myself seeking answers in an Orthodox Yeshivah (a Jewish place of study where someone seeking to be an Orthodox rabbi would find himself). Within eight or nine months, I was completely fed up and confused. I left feeling empty. The God I had once believed in seemed far away, if He even existed.
The following year, I was drafted into the Israeli Army and served as an armored transport technician in the paratrooper unit. However, my mind was on other things. I began playing music with Ofer, a great friend from Neve Tsoof. I was constantly playing the guitar and began drinking and so forth whenever I had the time. I had moved out of my parents' home but they knew of my ungodly lifestyle. They left gospel tracts around my room and asked many people to pray for me.
About a year after we were released from the army, Ofer and I decided to travel as most Israelis do after their years of service. Inspired by some old Jack Kerrouac books, we flew to California and soon found ourselves roaming the country in an old Ford van with a couple of sleeping bags and some very strange philosophical ideas. That year, the Lord miraculously preserved us from many hazards. One such miracle occurred in the dry hills of Arizona. I was lost with no water and after searching for our campsite hour after hour in the sun, dehydration began causing hallucinations. I leaned against a rock in the scorching sun and lost consciousness for some time. When I woke, a basin-shaped stone filled with clear cold water was sitting right in front of me. I drank, was refreshed and before long, I found my campsite. I knew God's hand was on me.
Soon after, during a certain musical performance, I became suddenly aware of an evil presence. Most of the lyrics were putting down Jesus and His message. I realized as never before that evil forces exist—and react for some reason to Jesus. I recalled that the day before we left Israel, a believer had told me, "You need to make up your mind about Jesus, because if you're not with Him, you're against Him." That really shook me up.
Upon returning to Israel, I realized that if God loved me, I wanted to be with Him. I told Him that if Yeshua could help me overcome my sin, I would follow Him always. Guess what? Yeshua not only wiped my slate clean, but He enabled me to break free of my bad habits. Only then did I understand the words of Isaiah that I read in my Haftorah portion many years before. Not only that, I discovered that my best friend, Ofer, had made an independent commitment to Yeshua as well.
Since then, I have been blessed with the most amazing wife and great relationships with my family members who so diligently prayed for me. Most importantly, I have a personal relationship with God. I now serve with Jews for Jesus where the Lord is working through me to share His love with others.
<h4>Endnotes</h4>
<a href="#_ednref1" name="_edn1">1.</a> Traditional reading from the prophetic books of the Bible which follows a reading from the first five books.

Meet Aaron Abramson

As my husband, Stewart, says, we met while I was on staff with Jews for Jesus in the summer of 1984 in New York City. We were both handing out pamphlets—Stewart with another organization called Chosen People—in front of Bloomingdales on 59th Street in New York City. From that moment I thought, "He is perfect for me." You see I had determined to marry a Jewish man who shared my belief in Yeshua. From such a small marriage pool, God heard my prayer!
A few years later I was living in New Jersey. Although I was not at that time working with Jews for Jesus, I wanted to hand out pamphlets in New York City. My congregation leader suggested I call Stewart, as he was looking for volunteers to do just that. After our first outing, I wasn't sure whether I was more interested in handing out pamphlets or in Stewart! Nonetheless, we continued hitting the streets each Saturday. Finally, after one of our outings, Stewart invited me to dinner and a movie. On that first date Stewart said, "If you can see yourself married to me one day, we can continue to date. If not, this is our last date." It took me a moment to process what Stewart had just said. Then, I admitted I could surely see us together in marriage. We were engaged within a few months. In 1986 we were married in Summit, New Jersey.
From the beginning Stewart and I had foundational things in common. We shared a faith in the Jewish Messiah. We both came from Jewish homes with no intermarriage. And we both had a deep love for our Jewish heritage that included a desire to raise children in a Jewish lifestyle that reflected our faith.
But let me go back now and tell you how a woman raised in a Jewish home came to be telling other Jewish people about Jesus.
I was born in 1953 in Detroit, Michigan. My parents, Jerry Tilleman and Lois Faren Tilleman, were both Jews of European background. Their families immigrated to the United States through Canada in the 1940s. I have three siblings. Debra is the oldest, born in 1951. I followed in 1953, then Mark in 1958 and finally Michael was born in 1960.
For most of my childhood our family lived in Grand Rapids, Michigan. My great-grandfather, Morris Singer, was an Orthodox Jew from Russia. He was my mother's grandfather. I spent all of my summers in Detroit with Grandpa Singer and his widowed daughter, Rose Joffee. Aunt Rose was like a mother to me. I observed my grandpa wrap tefillin and pray each morning, chanting in Hebrew and davening. I would sit quietly across the room in a rocking chair and "daven" in time with him. All I knew was that Grandpa was talking to God. I wanted to talk to God like my grandpa did, so I imitated him. I didn't understand any of it; I just believed God was real.
By her 24th birthday, my mother had four children and wasn't equipped to raise them. Mom did not have parenting skills and did not have the support of her family or community. My dad, Jerry, was a master plumber. He worked out of town a lot, leaving my mother alone with four young undisciplined children. We attended a Reform temple, and three of us four kids went to Jewish education classes each Sunday morning. We attended synagogue regularly until I was confirmed at age thirteen.
Then, our family fell apart. My mom left home to make a new life for herself. She was worn out and felt she was a failure as a mother. She just didn't know how to relate to her own children. When Dad was home, he yelled and screamed at mom and at us. Mom just couldn't take the stress anymore and she left us when I was in third grade. So now it was dad and four unruly children. Dad continued to work long hours and the four of us were left to care for ourselves. He would leave us money to walk to the grocery store for food. The next five years we moved at least five times, and Dad had a series of girlfriends. Our Jewish education came to an abrupt end, as did our family life. My sister Deb and I were in survival mode. We were charged with cooking, cleaning and caring for our two younger brothers. Mom would visit us once a week for about an hour at the house when Dad wasn't there.
Those five years were tumultuous. Dad had a terrible temper; he was angry and took it out on us. He kept dating women in the hope of finding a replacement "mom" for us, but each relationship ended badly. I am not sure how many times Dad got married. But a few of his wives left quite an impression. There were suicide attempts by one wife, pot smoking in our house by another and fistfights between that wife and myself. It could be a movie on the Lifetime Channel (I will spare you).
These were terrible years filled with fear and a sense of not belonging to anyone. Three of the four of us eventually moved out of our dad's house to live with our mom and her new husband in south Florida. As long as we laid low and didn't make too much noise, we had a roof over our heads and clothes to wear. Through all of this I always prayed to God. I would mostly just cry in my bed and ask him questions. I didn't understand how to live in my circumstances. In high school I started using all kinds of drugs. I managed to graduate in 1972. Then I got in a car with a friend and drove across the country and landed in San Francisco.
For the next eight years I wandered through various jobs, relationships and some college courses. But I was on a spiritual quest. I wanted to know the God my grandpa Singer prayed to. I started going to a Conservative temple, but found it unfulfilling. Then I started reading eastern philosophy and religion. I would go to bookstores, sit in the section where spiritual books were shelved and read anything that grabbed my attention.
One day, I picked up two books someone had left in my apartment, a Bhagavad Gita (Hindu Book of Knowledge) and a Bible that included a New Testament. I lost interest in the Bhagavad Gita but kept reading the Bible. Eventually I found myself in the New Testament. I really thought Jesus was very cool.
Eventually I prayed and asked God to give me a sign if Jesus was the one I had been searching for. The next day a neighbor gave me a book to read, The Late Great Planet Earth. I read that in a day. Soon after that, my landlady talked with me about Jesus. She had never done that before. Within 24 hours of that conversation, a customer at the restaurant where I waitressed was in a conversation with the people at her table about Jesus. I was eavesdropping. She noticed and asked me if I was a Christian. I told her I was Jewish, and she asked me if I had ever heard of Jews for Jesus. It was at that moment I remembered tearing Jews for Jesus posters off of a telephone pole years before. I had told my friend these people were liars, that you can't be Jewish and believe in Jesus. But I gave this woman my phone number and a woman named Martha from Jews for Jesus called me.
I began meeting with Martha weekly. My biggest dilemma was reconciling the idea that my wonderful Grandpa Singer was in hell. But over a few visits we settled it. And I knew I had to accept Jesus as my Messiah. I did so on May 20, 1980.
My life drastically changed. I began to attend weekly Bible studies at Jews for Jesus. One of the staff also met with me weekly one on one to teach me the Bible. Then a married couple in the congregation I started attending invited me to live in their house as a part of their family. It was a process, but I stopped using drugs and God did a lot of healing in my life and heart. Within a year, Jews for Jesus offered me a scholarship to attend a Bible college on the East Coast, and I never looked back.
Stewart and I have been married more than a quarter of a century now. We had a honeymoon baby in May 1987, nine months and four days after our wedding —Melissa Ruth. I remember counting her fingers and toes and thanking God for giving us a healthy baby. We lived in the Bronx at that time. Soon after, Stewart was asked to lead a Messianic congregation in Connecticut. Each Friday afternoon we would pack up our sweet Melissa and drive to Connecticut for Shabbat services. I taught the children and led the music while Stewart led the Shabbat service. The congregation began to grow. Soon we moved to Connecticut and our congregation, Joy of Israel, solidified. In 1989 Jonathan Samuel was born in Bridgeport, Connecticut. Our second child was healthy and perfect too! I won't try to recount all my life since then, but our two great kids are grown up now and living independently (maybe they can tell their story one day too), while Stewart and I continue to tell other Jewish people about Yeshua.
I think if I had not come to believe in Jesus I most likely would not be alive today. But I have found in him a very abundant life!

Jesus Was Very Cool!

I was born in Czechoslovakia in 1935. Our family owned one of the largest textile factories in the Czech Republic. In 1940, when the Germans occupied this area, they first took the industrialists, and my father was sent to the Warsaw Ghetto. We never saw him again.
In September of 1942 all the Jewish people from Prague were deported and everything was taken away from us. My mother had prepared us to immigrate to England, but soon the borders were closed and we couldn't get out anymore. We were sent to Thereseastadt, a horrible ghetto, and stayed there 16 months. My memory of that time has become quite blurred, but I do recall that I was sick all the time and developed a terrible skin condition. I also remember being very hungry and eating a meal once a day of dirty soup made out of potato peels and a piece of bread.
We were then sent to Auschwitz in a cattle car. There, my mother saved my life by always getting me an extra little piece of bread. I was just a little girl, yet we had to stand in front of the barracks in freezing cold for hours and hours. There was electrically—charged barbed wire everywhere. I remember praying, "God, I know I will surely survive this."
<img class="size-large wp-image-87567 aligncenter" style="max-width: 480px;margin: 25px auto;" src="https://live-api.jewsforjesus.org/wp-content/uploads/holoucaust-art-instalation-sanfrancisco-featured-850x480.jpg" alt="" width="100%" />
In the beginning of 1945, the bombings in Germany were so intense that they needed a few prisoners from Auschwitz to clean up after the phosphorus bombings in Hamburg. We had been in the family camp for six months already and our time was up; we were going to be sent to the gas chambers. A car came from Berlin to take a certain amount of prisoners to help clean up after the bombings. We stood before Mengele and my mother put a big sack over me and he couldn't see me, because she had put me between people, so I was pushed through and I survived once again.
We ended up in Bergen-Belsen at the end of the war. The Germans' plan was to have us all there so that as the allies advanced to dynamite it, no one would witness what had happened there. When we arrived there were no more barracks left, so we were pushed in on top of deceased bodies. One morning I woke up to the roaring of tanks, and realized the SS must have run away. The English and French came in and immediately set up temporary headquarters. My mother dragged me in to talk to them, but she collapsed and I fell unconscious as well.
I had been in a coma for five days with typhoid fever and all sorts of other infections. My mother had been in a different barrack, but somehow found me. We were sent on a hospital ship to Sweden and we convalesced there. In August of 1946 we came to America by boat. I got private tutoring and eventually became a maternity nurse. I married and had a wonderful daughter named Nina.
I did not enjoy going to synagogue when we arrived in the United States, and I would never step into a church. I was always praying, though. God had been with me in some very dark hours; I had been so desperate, and He was always with me.
One day I saw David Brickner on the street, handing out some literature. I walked over to him, crying, and said, "How dare you? How dare you, a Jewish boy, what are you doing?" I showed him the number on my arm ¡ I was so upset! Whenever I saw the Jews for Jesus on the street, I would literally push their hands away. I was hurt. I was insulted.
I had a friend at that time, the doorman in my building, who told me about Jesus. I told him that I was Jewish and did not want to hear about Jesus. He said once, "We are all children of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob." I replied, "Every Gentile is an anti-Semite." But I asked him, "Take me to your church on a Sunday." I went with him and it didn't mean anything to me. The minister told me, "In life, everything is fate."
I soon heard that they were having Lev Leigh from Jews for Jesus at the church, giving a Christ in the Passover presentation. He had once been a Lubavitcher, and I thought, "That's impossible." I wanted to meet him; I was so perplexed. But the service had to be cancelled because of the weather, and instead the pastor gave me Lev's phone number at the Jews for Jesus office. Within half an hour he was in my office, explaining the gospel to me. I said, "How can you believe this as a Jew?" I had been such an independent thinker; nobody could brainwash me into believing. But I was searching for the truth, and Lev showed me different things in the New Testament. I realized that Jesus had never been anything else but a Jew, and I accepted Him into my life.
Today I am very outspoken about my faith. After Auschwitz, what do I have to lose?

Losing All; Gaining All

<img class="alignnone size-large wp-image-87073" style="max-width: 600px;" src="https://live-api.jewsforjesus.org/wp-content/uploads/emmanuel-family-picture-850x480.jpg" alt="" width="100%" />
The cover photo above, circa 1910, is of the Persian maternal ancestors of Emmanuel Mebasser. The man with the white beard is Ruben, Emmanuel’s great-great-great-grandfather. Back row: far left, Tallah, his great-greatgrandmother; middle, with hat, Mashiah, his great-great-grandfather. Mashiah means Messiah.
<blockquote>
<img class="wp-image-47788 size-medium aligncenter" src="https://live-api.jewsforjesus.org/wp-content/uploads/tomb-of-ester-260x300.jpg" alt="Hakim Musah was an elder in a synagogue in Hamedan. Pictured above is the Tomb of Esther in Hamedan, Iran." width="260" height="300" />
Hakim Musah was an elder in a synagogue in Hamedan. Pictured above is the Tomb of Esther in Hamedan, Iran.
</blockquote>
<h3>My maternal great-great-grandfather, Hakim Musah, was an elder in a synagogue in Hamedan, Iran, in the mid-1800s.</h3>
One Sabbath day, a Russian missionary came to the synagogue and spoke to Hakim, who was greeting people at the door. He asked him, “Did you know that the Messiah you are expecting has already arrived?” and told him that Jesus was the Messiah. Hakim was so upset that he slapped the missionary in the face and threw him out of the synagogue.
Because Hakim was well known in the community, the missionary learned where he lived and went to visit him at his home. Because of Iranian hospitality, he invited the missionary into his home and served him tea and something to eat. Sharing from the Hebrew Scriptures, the missionary showed him prophecies about the Messiah that he believed had been fulfilled in events recorded in the New Testament regarding the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. The missionary continued to visit Hakim until, over time, my great-great-grandfather came to believe in Jesus as the Messiah of the Jewish people.
<img class="wp-image-47790 size-full aligncenter" src="https://live-api.jewsforjesus.org/wp-content/uploads/davoud-norolla-ehteshamzadeh-1.jpg" alt="David Ehteshamol Hokama, born circa 1870, with his son, Noorola. David is the son of Hakim Musah, Emmanuel’s maternal great-great grandfather." width="300" height="448" />
My paternal grandfather, Azizolah Mebasser, was the son of Shimon, a rabbi in the city of Kashan, Iran. Azizolah came to believe in Jesus because he attended a very prominent high school run by Christian missionaries in Kashan. Until 1920, Iranians did not have last names. They often took on the names of the towns they were from to distinguish themselves. Instead, my grandfather chose the last name “Mevesser,” which means “bearer of good news” in both Hebrew and Farsi. He spent his life telling others about Jesus, or “Isa<a href="#_edn1" name="_ednref1">1</a>,” as we call him in Farsi.
<h3>Fleeing Iran... for “Tehrangeles”</h3>
Jewish faith in Jesus was handed down from generation to generation on both sides of my family, so my parents are Jewish Iranian believers in Jesus. I was born in Tehran, Iran, in 1978. The Islamic Revolution took place when I was three months old. My parents knew that Islam in Iran would bring trouble to Jews and Christians alike. So, we fled and moved to Los Angeles or, as the 800,000 plus other Iranians there like to call it, Tehrangeles.
Not only was life in Tehrangeles an extension of life in Iran for my family, but we also held on to our Jewish traditions and identity. I grew up knowing what God meant to me because my family read the Bible and celebrated Jewish holidays together. Passover was my favorite holiday, and it wasn’t until later in life that I realized the Iranian Jewish celebration has a different flavor than it does for the rest of world Jewry. I was shocked that other Jews did not know the tradition during the singing of “Dayenu” of whipping one another with giant green onions—to the point of getting bruises!
<blockquote><img class="size-medium wp-image-47796 aligncenter" src="https://live-api.jewsforjesus.org/wp-content/uploads/mebasser-family-300x187.jpg" alt="An Iranian get-together at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Mebasser (Emmanuel's paternal grandparents) in Tehran, Iran" width="300" height="187" />
In Iranian Jewish culture, we don’t have family get-togethers with fewer than 40 people. We take forever to say goodbye. Whenever we were at a family gathering, my parents would tell my brothers and me, “We are going to leave now. Get ready.” And I would tell my brothers, “We’ll be here another hour and a half,” because my parents would say goodbye to each person individually and end up having extended conversations with all of them.
</blockquote>
<h3>A good life wasn't enough; something was missing.</h3>
Because of my parents’ faith, I grew up knowing who the God of the Bible is. I enjoyed a good life as an Iranian, and as a Jew. I tried to obey the commandments in the Scriptures, but I felt I was lacking something. This became evident in my life in public schools in Los Angeles, where survival was a major feat of sustained anonymity for me, from dodging gang wars and declining designer drugs, to ducking away from the sexually promiscuous culture of my classmates.
When people at school invited me to take part in any of the above, I told them I didn’t want to. When they asked me, “Why?” I responded, “Because it’s wrong,” and they called me a “goody two-shoes.” I really didn’t understand why I couldn’t do those things, except I knew the Bible said they were “sins.” On those rare occasions when I challenged my friends as to why I should join in with them, their only answer was “because you can.”
This surface-level morality was good enough for me to cruise along in life until the summer before my senior year in high school, when my best friend, a believer in Jesus, asked me to help him lead a Bible club at school. Until then, my faith, or what there was of it, was more my parents’ than my own. Now that my friend was asking me to share my faith with my classmates and lead people in studying the Bible, I had to be sure I knew what I believed.
<blockquote>
People I talked to about Jesus challenged my faith, questioning the validity of the Bible. They asked me questions like, “How could a loving God send someone to hell who’s from some remote land and has never heard about Jesus?” I began to ask myself, How can I really know and understand God if I don’t question Him and the Bible and find out for myself what is true?
</blockquote>
<h3>The key to my emptiness</h3>
I wanted to know that God was real and what He wanted from me. I began to ask people who seemed to have genuine relationships with God how I could hear from Him. They told me to read the Bible and pray and seek God with persistence, and He would reveal Himself to me.  I took that challenge. Around that time, the youth leader at my congregation, who taught my friends and me from the Bible, sat us down and asked, “How many of you know that if you died today, you would go to heaven?”
I searched my soul and considered the weight of his words. I had read through the entire Bible with my family, but when it came down to it, I really didn’t know whether God would accept me.
<blockquote>
In the New Testament I had read that Jesus would descend from heaven and gather his followers at the sound of the shofar (1 Thessalonians 4:16–17). I often dreamed that I heard that trumpet call: I would start to ascend into the sky toward Jesus, but then I would hit my head on the ceiling of my bedroom and be left behind! Even in my dreams, I knew that I had not completely entrusted my life to Jesus.
</blockquote>
So, when my youth leader asked me if I knew whether I would go to heaven, I told him I didn’t know. Then he reminded me of this passage in the New Testament: “... if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved” (Romans 10:9). I prayed with him that day to acknowledge Jesus’ death as the atoning sacrifice for my sins. I knew in that moment that God had accepted me.
<h3>If it was good enough for King David, it was good enough for me. But I had to live it out!</h3>
I chose to follow God with all my heart. I began to read the Bible again, not just as a portion of Scripture to cross off my checklist, but as the living and breathing Word of God. I knew that the faith of my forefathers—Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and King David, whom God called a man after His own heart—was my faith too. I found a greater calling in life, not just a list of rules to follow.
Upon this realization, I told my friends that the reason I would not take part in their rebellious actions was not just because the Bible said not to, but because those actions would hinder my relationship with God and distract me from my heart’s desire to follow Him.
<blockquote>
People began to see a change in me and even respected me for my faith. While I was not looking for my peers’ approval, those who knew me—although they didn’t agree with my reasoning or my faith—defended me when others scoffed at me for not taking part in their sex/drugs/no rules lifestyle.
</blockquote>
Moving into adulthood, the more I aligned my dreams and desires with the teachings of Jesus, the clearer my path became. My purpose now is sharing God’s love and the good news about the Messiah Jesus through my actions and words. The faith of my forefathers—including my grandfather, who chose our last name Mebasser (“bearer of good news”)—has become a legacy I proudly uphold.
<img class="size-medium wp-image-47802 aligncenter" src="https://live-api.jewsforjesus.org/wp-content/uploads/persepolis-ruins-kourosh-the-great-209x300.jpg" alt="Ruins from Persepolis, the palace of " width="209" height="300" />
<h3>The greatest challenge leads to the greatest adventure.</h3>
I know that the question, “Who is Jesus?” is a challenging one for our Jewish people. But the more I learn about the Hebrew Scriptures and my Jewish heritage, the more I see how God planned all along to send the Messiah Jesus as the eternal Yom Kippur sacrifice for our sins.
For so long I wanted to hear God’s voice. I sought near and far. I prayed and prayed. I listened, I pleaded, I called out. And the Lord answered me. These words of Jesus really spoke to me when I was searching: “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you” (Matthew 7:7).
Ask God today with an open heart if Jesus might be the Messiah and listen for His response. I know He will meet you just like He met me.
<blockquote>
Emmanuel works as a web evangelism innovator in the San Francisco Branch of Jews for Jesus.
</blockquote>
<h4>End Note</h4>
<a href="#_ednref1" name="_edn1">1.</a> The Quranic name for Jesus, Isa, is pronounced in Farsi as Eesaw.  The name comes from Jesse (Eshai,) as in the Stump of Jesse as a name for the Messiah.

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