by Riva Pomerantz A young Jewish man gets ensnared in the welcoming community of Jews for Jesus.



The warmed, recycled air of the plane was like a tunnel between two tundras, Misha Kapilov* reflected as he disembarked. Gone were the sights and sounds of the life he had left behind, first in Kiev, then in Israel.

Bienvenue au Canada read the sign as the frigid air pulled him into the terminal with an urgency. Passport control. Luggage. Waiting area. And there she was: Aunt Katya*. Smiling, waving vigorously, and very welcoming, she eagerly stepped forward to take her 17-year-old immigrant nephew under her wing. All Misha really knew about his father’s sister was that Aunt Katya had “converted” to Christianity, but his ambiguous understanding of religion made his aunt’s choice a complete non-issue.

As they drove down the broad highways of Toronto, Misha reveled in his newfound destination. The scenery was different here; the air rich with promise. The houses were beautiful and spacious. He had come to Canada to seek his fortune, and find it he would.

There was a large pot of soup waiting on the stove in Aunt Katya’s modest two-bedroom apartment, and a bed turned down especially for her nephew. They sat down to eat and Misha became aware of keen eyes watching him. And then, gently but bluntly, Aunt Katya lay down the house rules. One rule, actually, stunningly simple:

“If you believe in and pray to Jesus, then you are welcome in my home,” she told him.

The converse was glaringly implicit.

It wasn't her demand to believe in Christianity that was untenable, it was the demand that he believe in any God at all. Misha Kapilov had a big problem. Up until now, religion had been a rather trivial chapter in his life. Russia certainly hadn’t offered him anything of faith, and his brief year in Israel had only served up a large helping of hypocrisy and cynical anti-religious indoctrination. If he found Aunt Katya’s terms untenable it was not because she was demanding his belief in Christianity, but because she was demanding that he believe in any God at all, a repulsive offense to Misha’s self-proclaimed atheism.

But free room and board was nothing to sneeze at for an immigrant boy fresh off the boat. So he promised he’d try and, like a good little nephew, he grudgingly accompanied Aunt Katya to… synagogue.

Well, at first glance it certainly looked like a synagogue, with a rabbi cloaked in a tallit and one of those arks that housed the Torah scrolls like he blurrily remembered seeing once as a child. There were congregants with skullcaps and prayer books, and everyone wished him “Shabbat Shalom” and stayed to shmooze afterward during kiddush. Young Misha was pleasantly surprised by the warm atmosphere and the after-services get-togethers where the friendly community made him feel welcome and invited him to come back again the next week.

Misha thought it was odd how Aunt Katya, a professed Christian, permitted herself the sacrilegious practice of praying in a synagogue. But her strange practice was soon resolved when he came to understand that “Yeshua HaMashiach,” abundantly referred to in the prayer texts and other parts of the “synagogue” service was none other than Jesus, father of Christianity. He was surprised and a bit aghast. After all, hadn’t Papa told him that Jews didn’t believe in Jesus?

It didn’t take long till dear Aunt Katya threw him out of her house forever, in disappointment over his failure to “believe.” But Misha continued to attend Sabbath services at Congregation Melech Yisrael on Ranee Avenue on his own -- if just for the sense of belonging. Very soon he became a valued member of the “synagogue.” It satisfied his craving for friendship and closed the hole of loneliness. With sincere and loving persistence, Misha’s fellow congregants demonstrated to him how Jews were meant to believe in Yeshua., bringing "proof" from Messianic texts. With time, the former atheist became a passionate advocate of these Jews for Jesus.

An Unexpected Invitation

Parkdale was once populated by the wealthy upper-class. Today, it has the faded look of an expensive ball gown left crumpled in a garbage bin for many years, with cats and rodents nesting in its once-delicate hems. The crumbling apartment complexes tower above the dank alleyways where pursuits of a variety of illicit activities are the norm. Crime is to Parkdale as salt is to soup; a diverse landscape of immigrants, panhandlers, and a motley group of patients released from the psychiatric hospital that closed its doors a number of years ago.

Toronto’s Parkdale district was not the fortune Misha had sought. Having been exiled from Aunt Katya’s, he found himself trapped in the seedy but affordable slums. Misha wanted out, and intervention from a Power he did not yet fully comprehend obliged.

“You’re looking for an apartment?” a friend of his parents from the Old Country asked, when they bumped into each other one day. He scratched his chin. “I know someone with an apartment for rent. I’ll give you her number.” And that’s how Misha met Mr. and Mrs. Sheiner*.

“You looking for an apartment?” Olga Sheiner peered at the tall, skinny boy before her with a mixture of dismay and motherly affection, her Russian-accented English thick like the fragrant smells that wafted from her kitchen on this Friday afternoon.

Misha dutifully took a tour of the basement apartment but with disappointment he realized that his ticket out of Parkdale was not located at this particular address.

“Thank you,” he told Mrs. Sheiner, “But it’s not for me…”

She nodded with disapproving approval. He was on his way out the door. They would likely never meet again. It was Friday afternoon. He was a Jewish boy, that much was apparent. Should she reach out to him? Would he spurn the offer? Would it even matter? She wiped her hands on her apron and shrugged inwardly. It was a long shot, but so was David’s when he attempted to defeat the giant Goliath.

“Y’know, it’s Friday afternoon,” Olga said. “You’re already here in my house. Why don’t you stay for Shabbos?”

A look of surprise crossed the teenager’s face. Stay for the entire Shabbos with this obviously religious couple? Rather absurd. But how could one argue with the tempting scents that emanated from the stove, and his miserable flat in Parkdale made the modest Sheiner home look like a palace. Besides, a full Shabbos together would enable him to proselytize to these noble yet uninformed Jews about the beauty and dazzling truth of ‘Yeshua.’ Misha nodded his consent.

They almost choked on their soup, but the Sheiners contained their horror. Over golden chicken soup and crisp potato kugel, the Sheiners were treated to a fifth course -- on Messianic Judaism. Earnestly, Misha explained to them how essential it was for Jews to believe in the Christian “savior” in order to be forgiven for their sins and to ensure their share in the World to Come.

They almost choked on their soup, but the Sheiners contained their horror. Calmly and patiently they explained to a surprised Misha that they were quite comfortable in their current belief system and were not interested in adding another deity to their lives. They did not berate him, engage him, or laugh at him. Misha left that Saturday night with a full stomach and an intriguing invitation to meet a friend of the Sheiners who, they said, was potentially interested in the “wares” he peddled.

The Anti-Missionary

Julius Ciss is a man you don't forget. The only thing more towering than Julius’ six-foot-six height is his gentle presence and affable love of all Jews. Julius founded Jews for Judaism, the anti-missionary organization in Toronto several years after he, himself, was saved from the clutches of a deep, five-year involvement with the very same Congregation Melech Yisrael that Misha attended. It was this gentle giant whom Olga Sheiner urgently contacted as soon as Misha left her house.

“You must get in touch with this boy,” she told Julius, “or he will be lost and bring others down with him.”

Julius was hesitant. In his line of work he had seen enough to know that true counter-missionary success only came from those who initiated contact on their own, expressing interest in hearing the other side of the story. By calling Misha directly he was worried that the young man would be put off and an opportunity would be squandered. But Olga persisted.

“You’ve got to call him,” she ordered. “He’ll never call you.”

So Julius called Misha.

The two spoke for many hours and the conversation was pleasant, and thought-provoking. Julius talked to Misha about his aspirations, his friends, and his experiences in Canada, and he took a genuine interest in Misha’s wellbeing. The two definitely clicked.

Eventually, the conversation drifted to Misha’s belief in Christianity. Julius’s approach was non-threatening and non-judgmental. He didn’t want to come on too strong; all he wanted was to push the door open a crack to ensure further conversations. He spoke with Misha about the importance of being intellectually honest about his decision to embrace Christianity. Julius talked about the paramount importance of making an informed decision in every area of life. “When you cross the street, you don’t just look one way; you look both ways! How much more so if you cross a spiritual street,” he said.

Jews who embrace Christianity seldom ask themselves why Judaism rejects the Christian claim that Jesus is the messiah. Julius told Misha that Jews who embrace Christianity seldom ask themselves why Judaism rejects the Christian claim that Jesus is the messiah. Misha agreed that he didn’t actually know the Jewish perspective on belief in Jesus. Julius invited him meet later that week to talk about it and to learn more. Misha was intrigued with his gentle but on-target arguments, and agreed to explore the issue further.

Before he called again, Julius embarked upon a furious mission: to find Misha an apartment. He knew that finding a healthy Jewish environment where Misha would feel nurtured and supported was key in giving him the chance to leave his messianic community.

A New Home

Iris and Harold Kaufman*, parents of five, are legendary in the Toronto community for their hospitality, tzedakah, and boundless kindness. Their warm, easygoing personalities -- not to mention their vacant, beautiful basement apartment for rent -- made them ideal candidates for taking in Misha. Even better, Harold was very active with Aish HaTorah -- which meant he could introduce Misha to the vibrant Aish community in Toronto.

It was not a simple decision for the Kaufmans to take in a young, messianic teenager. Far from being a tenant, Misha would become part of the family, where the impressionable minds of the five Kaufman children, similar in age to Misha, would be subjected to his devout messianic doctrine. But after careful deliberation and consultation with their rabbi, Iris and Harold gave Julius the green light and a joyful Julius notified Misha that he’d found him the greatest apartment ever. Misha soon became a well-integrated part of the Kaufman family. Misha had finally found a true home.

What ensued was a battle for truth. Misha describes it like this: “I would tell Julius what the people at the Jews for J synagogue were teaching from their proof texts. Julius would refute it. I would go back to my people with Julius’ refutations and they would counter-refute what Julius was saying. These I would take back to Julius to see what he had to say about them. But Julius had all the answers.”

Like a buoy fighting the undertow desperately trying to touch the sky, Misha fought bravely through the doctrine he had been taught and the diametrically opposed belief system Julius offered him. And like that indomitable buoy, Misha emerged victorious.

It was difficult for his friends at Congregation Melech Yisrael to see him slip away after all the time, effort, and genuine friendship they had invested in him. Especially at the hands of one of their former members! When the messianic rabbi ran out of answers with which to refute Julius’s convincing arguments, he fixed Misha with a penetrating look and warned him, “That Julius is the devil.”

“That Julius is the devil.” This grim statement, intended to strike fear in the heart of the conflicted boy, backfired and had a rebound effect. Misha had come to know Julius very well -- as a person and as a counter-missionary, and he was quite certain that the kind and loving Julius was far from the devil. He realized that the messianic rabbi had come up against a brick wall. And so had Misha who decided to begin a new chapter in his life.

Misha enrolled in CHAT, a local Jewish high school, and began learning more about his heritage. Today, Misha lives with his wife, Rachel* and their two children, in the Toronto community where he is an active member of Aish HaTorah. He has helped Julius in his anti-missionary activities and speaks freely of the incredible Divine providence that brought him from a steep, slippery slope to the joyous pinnacle of observant Judaism.

For Misha, all it took was a hesitatingly proffered Shabbos invitation to launch a dramatic transformation in his life and future descendants. God’s mysterious ways often involve His creations -- regular, ordinary, busy people who rise to the challenge and reach out to others. One act of kindness can forever alter another person’s destiny.

* Only names designated by asterisks have been changed.

Julius Ciss is an Aish HaTorah alumnus. He can be reached at Jews for Judaism julius@jewsforjudaism.org in Toronto, Canada.



This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/sp/so/82882642.html

Check out www.VoteFc.com to give $1million to the Friendship Circle, an amazing group that helps children with mental and physical special needs.  Check out the website, it takes 20 seconds to vote and you can help them win 1 million dollars! 

by Rabbi Dr. Asher Meir, Business Ethics Center of Jerusalem
Q. A lot of copyrighted material is available on YouTube and other free sites. Is it permissible to download these clips?

A. YouTube was conceived primarily as a site where ordinary people could upload personal creations for public viewing. However, from the very beginning commercial content also made its way onto the site. This content is of a few varieties:

1. Some content is intentionally or willingly placed by content owners as a promotion. For example, CBS has a partnership program with YouTube through which some of their material appears on the site. It is obvious that there is no ethical obstacle to enjoying this material.

2. Some content is surreptitiously put up in order to circumvent copyright owners. Copyright owners have the right to protest at any time if they find their material on the site and it is promptly taken down. But realistically, there are hundreds of millions of clips and it may take time to detect and remove them. In the meantime, a viewer may find clips which he can be sure are copyright material. Here also the answer is obvious: a person shouldn't download stolen content just because he managed to squeeze in between the time it was illegally uploaded and when it was removed.

3. Some content the copyright owners have just given up on. Because of the effort involved in flagging pirated content, and the additional effort involved in removing it if the poster claims that it is legal (for example, under fair use laws), content owners are compelled to choose their battles and concentrate on their efforts on the most serious breaches. Here we have an interesting ethical question.

The Talmud discusses an interesting parallel case:

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chanania said: In all my days, no one ever get the best of me besides one woman, one boy, and one girl. . . . What of the girl? Once I was traveling on the way and there was a path through a field, and I was walking on it. A little girl said to me: Rabbi, isn't that a field? I said to her, "No, it is a cleared path." She said to me, "Bandits like you cleared it." (1)

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chanania was correct. At the time he traversed the field, the way was already a cleared path and did no damage to the crops. However, the girl was also correct. There was a first person who went through the field. That first person did only slight damage to the crops. He probably didn't think of himself as a "bandit". But the next time a person wanted to take a shortcut, that person noticed that someone has already cut through this field, and there was a way that was a bit easier, and a bit less destructive, than cutting straight through the crops. The second person would probably never have dreamed of just stomping through someone's field, but after all, now there was already a passage and besides, someone else had already been through..

By the time Rabbi Yehoshua went through, there was really no benefit from refraining, yet formally speaking he was the latest in a series of trespassers who effectively stole that piece of land from the field's owner (presumably the girl's family).

I don't think that the passage is suggesting that Rabbi Yehoshua did something actually forbidden. In the other stories (the woman and the boy) he does things which are insensitive but not quite improper. But it reminds us how often we may be beneficiaries of wrongdoing, and in particular reminds us how serious the first, seemingly innocent breach is.

Once a video clip is firmly ensconced on YouTube, it is fair to assume that it is legal, and you can view and download it (if there are no notices to the contrary). However, the Talmudic sages alert us to the particular seriousness of leading the charge by pushing out the envelope of infringement, for example uploading material which previously was taken down but right now finds the owners too busy or burdened to respond.

SOURCES: (1) Babylonian Talmud Eiruvin 53b



This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/ci/be/80401402.html

Question:

Joseph married Osnat and had two children in Egypt before his family came down to join him. Was she Egyptian?

Response:

We read in Genesis 41:45 that Pharaoh gave Joseph Osnat daughter of Potiphera, priest of On, to be his wife. From the various midrashim, a wondrous story emerges:

You see, when Shechem abducted Dinah, she became pregnant with his child. Her father, Jacob, saw that his family was deeply ashamed of his new granddaughter. The little girl was banished from the camp and placed under a thorn bush. They called her Osnat, a derivative of sneh, the Hebrew word for thorn bush.

Jacob brought a golden plate with a holy name inscribed upon it and hung it on her neck. In other accounts, it is stated that he wrote, "Whoever meets you, meets the seed of Jacob." And he sent her away.

As all is revealed before the Holy One blessed be He, Archangel Michael descended and took her down to Egypt, the home of Potiphera, for Osnat was fitting to be Joseph's wife. Potiphera's wife was barren, and she reared Osnat like a daughter.

When Joseph took charge of Egypt, all the maidens were taken by his extraordinary beauty and threw jewelry and other objects at him in, trying to gain his favor. Osnat had nothing to throw, except the golden plate bearing the inscription that her grandfather had made her. When Joseph saw what was written on it, he knew that she was his kin, and immediately married her.

Other midrashim, however, describe her as a righteous convert, on par with Hagar, Ruth and Rahab.

from Chabad.org
by Rabbi Menachem Posner

by Gideon Silverstone


Surprisingly, James Cameron’s new blockbuster taught me a lot about myself.



They say that film is a powerful medium. But when was the last time you continued to think about a movie days after you saw it? Well it just happened to me after having seen James Cameron’s new film Avatar.

I’ve been thinking about Avatar for days. Avatar tells the story of Pandora, a distant planet in the year 2154 where there is a conflict between human colonialists who are mining Pandora’s resources because they have exhausted earth’s, and the indigenous inhabitants called the Na’vi who are trying to expel the foreigners.

The film follows Jake Sully, a former marine who is paralyzed during combat on Earth. His twin brother was working for the Avatar Program on Pandora which constructed genetically engineered human-Na’vi hybrids that allow the humans to control these “avatars” with their minds while their own bodies sleep. An avatar can only be controlled by a person who shares its unique genetic material and when Sully’s twin brother dies, he is asked to join the squad as he is the only one who has the genes to control that particular avatar.

On his first assignment, Jake’s avatar gets lost and is attacked by a gang of dangerous creatures. It looks like he might not make it until he is saved by a female Na'vi named Neytiri. While her people fear outsiders, Neytiri feels like there is something different about Jake – something special. So she takes him to the Na'vi Hometree, the spiritual and geographical home of her clan. The Na'vi then decide to teach Jake about their culture.

But back at his base, Jake is ordered by Colonel Miles Quaritch to initiate a diplomatic mission of sorts to obtain the trust of the Na'vi tribe and is given three months to convince them to abandon their Hometree, which sits above a large deposit of unobtainium – the valuable substance that the humans are mining. As Jake learns the way of the Na'vi, he gradually finds himself caught between the military-industrial forces of Earth and a new found love for his adopted home and people. In fact, Jake is successfully initiated into the tribe after passing the Omaticaya rites of passage to become a man.

(Spoiler alert!) But unfortunately, Jake’s three months are up and he has not convinced the Na’vi to abandon Hometree. Colonel Quaritch leads a military campaign and destroys the Na’vi’s beloved home. The Na’vi are devastated and when they find out that Jake is really a human who knew of the plan, they are furious and abandon him. Faced with a decision of fighting with his race, the people who are destroying Pandora and wiping out the Na’vi or his newfound tribe whom he has come to love, he chooses the Na’vi and leads them in a revolt against Colonel Quaritch. With the help of the Na’vi, the other tribes on Pandora, and even all of the Pandorian wildlife, Jake is successful in fending off the attack and sending the human mission home.

Finally, Jake decides that he has become more Na’vi than human so he agrees to have his soul transplanted from his human body into his Na'vi avatar at the “holy” Tree of Souls. As in all good Hollywood films, Jake ends up marrying Neytiri, the Na’vi princess who discovered him three months prior.

 

Avatar and My Jewish Connection

So why did this movie get me thinking so much? Of course there are some not so subtle social messages in the film: we human beings are not taking enough care of our planet; our insatiable capitalist drive is going to get us in trouble; first world countries are harming third world countries by taking their natural resources; there are spiritual forces in the world that are powerful and being overlooked by our materialistic society. We get it. But that’s not what’s keeping me up at night.

I feel that in some small way this film is about me.

I grew up in Jewish family that didn’t have a whole lot to do with Judaism. Sure we made the pilgrimage to synagogue on the High Holidays and ate matzah on Passover but that was about it. And I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that, until I spent a year studying in Israel.

Like Jake Sully, what I saw made me reconsider the way I had been living my life up. It was in Israel that I was introduced to a Judaism that I had never seen before, one that was spiritually fulfilling and intelligent. Like Jake Sully, even though I was in Israel for a year to objectively study the people of Israel and their “ways,” what I saw made me reconsider the way I had been living my life up until that point. Did I want to continue leading a life focused heavily on the material with little regard for the spiritual? Did I want to continue leading a life which relegated a tradition of thousands of years to a three times per year chore? Or did I want to make a significant change in my life?

As Jake Sully demonstrated in Avatar, change is hard. Rethinking your life’s goals is hard. And telling the people that have been with you for years that you want to be a different person may be the hardest of all. But if you believe in what you are doing, it becomes something you simply have to do.

That’s what happened to me. I adopted some new ways and beliefs. Becoming a “new person” was difficult for some of my friends and family, but as the years have gone by, I realize that it has been worth it. My life is focused on both spiritual and material things, but I have a clear sense of priorities. But perhaps more importantly, I am now a member of a new “tribe”--- one that is deeply connected to the hundreds of generations of Jews before me by virtue of the daily practice of Jewish study and ritual. And as I begin to raise my children, I know that they too will be another link in that chain, a chain that will connect to countless generations for years to come.



This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/j/as/80051982.html

It's been 11 months since my beloved father left this world.
by R. Yehuda Weinberg
Today marks the end of the11th month since my father, Rabbi Noach Weinberg zt"l, passed away. This day is not marked as an official day that one has to do anything specific other than to stop saying the Kaddish prayer. But for me it's an especially sad day.

Essentially, this is the first time I have to deal with mourning. I have learned that there are four stages in the mourning period. The first stage started from the minute I found out that my father passed away until the burial. This stage is obviously the most painful.

The second stage begins from the burial and goes through seven days of sitting shiva. These seven days are a mix of pain and comfort, where so many friends come to console the mourners.

The third stage is sheloshim, that starts after shiva and goes for 30 days from the burial. On those days, even though the pain is still present, it starts to get mixed into other areas of life.

The last stage is the completion of the year since the death. At this time, the pain surfaces at different times in one's daily routine.

Our Sages devised such a wise way to mourn and find comfort. King Solomon wrote that there is a time for everything, including a time to be happy and a time for sadness. Why do we need a time for sadness? During this period, I've learned to appreciate this teaching. Being sad presents an opportunity to grow and gain a deeper understanding about the meaning of life and the correct way to handle a crisis.

During the first stage, from the minute that my father passed away, it was impossible for me to even talk. The pain and the sadness were so intense. The ceremony and the funeral afterward felt like a non-ending darkness. I felt like I was going down without any hope that the pain would subside. At the funeral, there were so many people who came to give their last respects to my great father, but I was someplace else, even though I was right next to him.

Then came that moment where I was forced to speak. Fortunately, these were the first words that I needed to say: "Yisgadal V' Yiskadash Shemay Raba..." – reciting the Kaddish. Suddenly I felt I'm not alone. I remembered that I have the Almighty to rely on, forever and ever. I felt not only the pain of the loss of my father, but also the opportunity to remember him and everything he taught me through this special way of sanctifying and praising God's name. From that moment, I felt that I was starting to climb upwards and had hope that happier days were to come.

Everyday when I have the opportunity to say the Kaddish prayer, I reconnect to this emotional healing feeling. So today when I need to stop saying Kaddish, it's an especially sad day.

The reason that we stop saying Kaddish at the end of the 11th month is because the Sages say that the longest period of time that a person could be judged in the next world is 12 months. But we assume that the deceased does not require the maximum 12 months of judgment and stop saying Kaddish, which helps the deceased during this period, after 11 months.

Although it's hard for me to stop saying Kaddish today, to stop using this tool that enables one to have a stronger spiritual connection with God, as well as with my beloved father, it's much easier to stop, knowing that this is giving honor to my father.

I will definitely continue to learn in the merit of my father, to continue this meaningful connection.

During this year of mourning, one of the things that I have gained was a long conversation with my father. My father has left behind a priceless treasure -- his teachings on so many topics and ideas. Whenever I would have something on my mind, I would dive into this sea of knowledge and listen to his words. I see this as a special privilege for me. I have received a priceless gift and I wish to share it with the whole world.



This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/rebNoach/e/80251387.html

A great video-blog by an Aish HaTorah Rabbi from Jerusalem

The Holtzberg's Role in Bhagirath Prasad's Long Journey Home

By Mirish Kiszner
Dr. Abraham near the Cave of the Patriarchs in Hebron, Israel. "Who are you?" the custodian questioned the stranger walking into the synagogue. "Why are you here?"

"I want to see the priest of this synagogue," the visitor, a young doctor, replied.

"Are you a Jew?"

"No."

The non-Jewish caretaker replied, "No, you can't come in here."

Disappointed, Dr. Abraham began to make his way down the stairs, but blocking his path was an elderly gentleman.

Every home he'd visit boasted several idols"Young man," he said in a kind voice, "I heard that conversation. Come, come, tell me what you want. My name is Freddy. Freddy Sofer." The elderly man ushered Dr. Abraham into a small room and ordered tea and snacks from the caretaker. "Come sit down, have a bite, and let's talk."

The doctor, feeling more at ease, fixed Mr. Sofer with a hopeful gaze. "I want my son to be circumcised," he blurted out.

The elderly man nodded kindly. "I see," he said. "So tell me about yourself."

Dr. Abraham began to relate his story.

The road leading to Bina, a rural village in India, is rough and ragged, but the local villagers seem happy. Against the backdrop of the scenic landscape, the tribal residents take pride in their traditions and rituals. Yet, the tempest within the heart of Bhagirath Mohandas Prasad, then a young man of about twenty-two, refused to abate.

The storm began when, at eighteen, Prasad, emerging from his sheltered childhood, began to question his religious roots. Every home he'd visit boasted several idols which the families worshiped, and the inquisitive lad, the youngest of five children, couldn't help but doubt their authenticity. He sought answers in newspapers, books, and educated people. What was the use for these rituals? The explanations he received didn't calm the tempest either. The silent statues only emphasized his profound frustration.

Until one day, compelled by something he couldn't quite define, Prasad lifted the figurines of stone and wood and hurled them across the floor where they remained lying in a broken heap. Fearing his father's anger and the likelihood of a beating, young Prasad decided to run away.

He escaped to Bhopal, about two hundred kilometers from Bina, where he continued his medical education. A job in the government health services secured him enough money to visit the big city of Mumbai where he could learn English and live among people from disparate cultures and geographical backgrounds.

He craved a life of honesty, if a simple oneAnd still, the storm in his heart wouldn't cease. He witnessed one too many episodes of corruption, exploitation, and unabashed bribery. Prasad became convinced that this system was not for him. He craved a life of honesty, if a simple one. If he couldn't proffer goodness, at least he wouldn't spread evil.

He turned to Christianity, but was quickly deterred, though he continued to treasure the Bible he received from his would-be teachers.

At the time, Prasad was employed in a nursing home, working the night shift. A young nurse noticed his interest in the Bible and they shared many nocturnal talks. Prasad was amazed at her wide knowledge of the Bible and delighted in the answers that were always on her tongue. Her name was Rani, which, in the Hindi language, means "queen."

It wasn't long before the two got married, with Rani continuing to teach Prasad, and Prasad continuing to read the Bible.

The Ten Commandments held a magnetic pull for Prasad, but Rani wasn't very pleased. She sent Prasad to several learned people to talk him out of his obsession but they quickly gave up, thinking Prasad a fool. Of course, this caused a tussle between the couple, but Prasad continued to insist on the Torah's authenticity.

Dr. Abraham and his children at the Chanukah celebration in Mumbai. When the couple's first son was born, Prasad decided that his son would have no connection to his background. Since every Indian child carries his father's name as well as his own, Prasad began to look for a new name, a name from the Bible.

"For my first name, I chose Aaron, after the High Priest, and Abraham as my surname after our forefather Abraham who, like me, searched for G‑d. My wife, Rani, became Malka, which means "queen" in Hebrew. She was fascinated by the Biblical Samuel, so we gave that name to our son. We changed all our legal papers so that nothing remained of our past."

"Do you know a Jewish family?" he asked the librarianWhen Dr. Prasad, now Dr. Abraham, read about the idea of circumcision, he was set on having his son circumcised. "I had been circumcised medically, so I thought I was fine. I didn't know that a medical and Jewish circumcision differed," he explained.

The desire to circumcise his firstborn led Dr. Abraham to search for the Mumbai Jewish community, his only clue a Jewish library.

"Do you know a Jewish family?" he asked the librarian.

"No."

"Do you know of a Jewish church, then?" he tried again.

"No, no. Don't call it that. Jews call it a synagogue and, yes, there's one right across the road. It's closed now at 8:30 PM, but you can go there anytime during the day."

And that's how it happened that several weeks later, one Shabbat afternoon, Dr. Abraham climbed the steps to the synagogue only to be stopped by the caretaker.

"I want my son circumcised," Dr. Abraham told the elderly man.

Mr. Sofer leaned back in his chair and regarded Dr. Abraham with gentle eyes.

"Dr. Abraham, your story is very interesting. But it's not that easy, my friend. According to Jewish law you have to convert in order to be circumcised. If you want to convert, you will have a very tough life. It's not easy to live as a Jew."

But these words didn't discourage the young doctor. He felt prepared for the drastic change, for the tough life, if only to become part of a people that believed in One G‑d.

The years passed in a whirl of Hebrew studies and mitzvah observanceThe years passed in a whirl of Hebrew studies and mitzvah observance, learning and growing, community volunteer work, attempts at conversion and painful rejections. Still, Dr. Abraham and his wife, who by then shared her husband's commitment, didn't give up. When his dream of visiting Israel was fulfilled, the longing in his heart intensified, and yet, his application for Israeli citizenship was refused.

Rabbi Gabi Holtzberg joyful after finishing to build the sukkah. But in 2003, an extraordinary young couple, Rabbi Gavriel and Rebbetzin Rivky Holtzberg, arrived in Bombay. "One of their boys was sick and brought into the hospital where I worked," Dr. Abraham recalls. "It was Friday, and I saw Gabi felt strained. I understood that he was worried about Shabbat so I offered to stay with the child. After Shabbat, he approached me with a thick bundle of Indian rupees, but I insisted that what I did was not for the money, but for Shabbat. He tried to push me to accept the money but when I refused, he brought me a set of Torah books, a gift that became very precious to me."

The Holtzberg's taught Dr. Abraham and Malka Hebrew language and Jewish law. They wouldn't make a move without consulting the Holtzberg's, spending every Shabbat and holiday in the Holtzberg's Chabad House. In 2008, Rabbi Holtzberg wrote a letter to the head of the conversion committee in Israel, vouching for the Abraham's sincerity.

"The Holtzberg's were totally devoted to Chabad and the Jewish nation. He always welcomed us graciously. 'Come, bring your wife and children,' he always told me. We built a sukkah together, celebrated Chanukah together, joined his Passover seder. He was so kind to the Israeli tourists, the backpackers who were often robbed by the Indians. Rabbi Gabi helped them in every way; he provided shelter, food, money… whatever they needed until they received their immigration papers from the Israeli Consulate."

Many people returned to Jewish practice through Rabbi Gabi. Once, a young Israeli entered the Chabad House disturbed and depressed. He said to Rabbi Gabi, "Where is G‑d?" Rabbi Gabi heard his problems, assured him all would be well, and gave him a place to stay. This fellow stayed with Rabbi Gabi for about two weeks, observing Rabbi Gabi's practice of Judaism. He prayed with Rabbi Gabi and put on tefillin daily. He left a different person, stable in mind and committed to a Jewish lifestyle.

"They never discriminated… they treated everybody equally"Another young Israeli tourist who suffered from medical problems once contacted Rabbi Gabi, telling him he wasn't feeling well. Rabbi Gabi immediately went to visit him, brought him to the hospital and paid the advance deposit of $300 to cover medical costs.

"They never discriminated… they treated everybody equally. Rivky worked tirelessly in the kitchen, preparing large quantities of food, supervising the dishes, personally taking care of everything.

"The Holtzberg's told us that when we move to Israel, they'd miss us terribly, but would share our joy. And then, this terrible, unfortunate terrorist attack happened. It's a loss for everybody, but our lives were shattered."

Dr. Abraham's daugher, Sharon, playing with Moishie Holtzberg. In the aftermath of the tragedy, an Israeli reporter formed a connection with Dr. Abraham and urged him to send his son, Shmuel, to Israel where he arranged for him to learn in Yeshivat Machon Meir in Kiryat Moshe, Jerusalem. When the Abraham's aliyah – immigration to Israel – was finally approved, this same journalist helped the family find a place in his own city of Kiryat Arba.

My meeting with Dr. Abraham was coming to an end when an urgent look appeared on Dr. Abraham's face. He leaned forward and told me, "Please write these words."

"If someone is sincere to G‑d, He will never forsake you, as my experience has taught me. G‑d sent me help through many angels, including Rabbi Gabi and Rebbetzin Rivky. It took me twenty years to come to live in Israel, so, please, never give up hope, and be sincere to G‑d's will and His Torah." from Chabad.org