Shabbat was a day when we would strictly follow the laws regarding what was and was not permitted. Lights were not turned on or off, nor was the television (which we watched with an automatic timer preset to a specific channel -- in my case, the one which showed the Smurf cartoons), we did not use the telephone except for emergencies, my father did not drive and I did not even use the stereo to listen to my favorite music.

Our food was always kosher, both in and out of the house. My parents had two sets of dishes -- one for meat and one for dairy -- and another two sets for Passover. If we ate out, it was only fish or dairy products. My family was "Modern Orthodox," meaning that we did take some leeway, but it certainly set my lifestyle apart from those of my schoolmates. I was a loner, the kid who could not go anywhere or do anything on Friday nights and Saturdays, the one who took extra days off because of the Jewish holidays.

As time went by, fueled by social pressures, mounting homework, and a growing fascination with the things of this world, I became much less observant when I hit my teen years. I vividly remember the first time I ate a non-kosher hamburger in a restaurant. I stopped going to synagogue -- something which I rarely did in the first place, since my father refused to drive on Shabbat or the festivals.

I also became turned off of religion, partly out of rebellion, and partly out of what I interpreted as hypocrisy in terms of Judaism in the way in which it was presented to me. I knew about all of the customs and traditions we practised, but I did not understand the meaning behind any of them. There was a lot of religion in my home, but very littel talk about God. I grew up without an understanding of who He is, and the thought of having a personal relationship with Him was the farthest thing from my mind.

The only one in my family who would talk about God was my mother, who interpreted every bad thing that would befall her as being some sort of Divine punishment. And she always made it know that if any of us did anything wrong, His wrath would befall us as well. She also fell away from traditions, going along with most things to appease my father, but in a mocking way, especially when she felt he was taking things to an extreme.

As for me, I had enough of religion altogether by my late teens. I figured if there even was a God, He certainly had no time to care about little old me. After all, the world was full of religions, all of which claim they were the truth -- all of which conflicted with each other. It boggled my mind to think that all of these belief systems could coexist in th same world. Since they all conflicted, someone had to be right and someone had to be wrong.

I revisited this thought several years later in my early twenties. Years of university were expanding my mind, and I began to really feel a nagging and stirring in my soul for universal truth. I looked at New Age, Buddhism, Pagan, humanism, vegetarianism, practically every "-ism" you could think of. Then, finally, I re-visited Judaism. I decided it was finally time to learn about the traditions of my forefathers -- not just the "what," but the "why." I took numerous online courses, talked with rabbis online, and began taking my Judaism more seriously.

Most importantly, I started to believe in God again.

But something was still missing. Although I had a deeper understanding and appreciation of Jewish customs, it seemed to me that many of the laws practised most fervently, were the laws of men and not God. I saw how certain practices were changed by the rabbis, and how no one, no matter how hard they tried, could keep every law. I thought that since keeping the law was the path for a close relationship with God, if you even break one, then that relationship is severed. Why even bother?

I was also troubled by the attitude some rabbis took when I dared question anything. For example, I discovered that Judaism indeed had a concept dealing with the resurrection of the dead. When I asked a rabbi about it, explaining to him that I always thought that was a Christian idea, his response was that it does exist in Judaism, that there are many books written about it, but that I could not possibly begin to understand it.

As I approached my 25th birthday, the hole in my soul felt like it would consume me. I confided in a good friend of mine, who I knew was a committed Christian, yet our religious differences never got in the way of our friendship. He suggested that I simply pray to God and ask Him for His direction.

I took his advice. That first night I called out for God in my bedroom, on my feet, speaking while facing at a wall in my room (the idea of praying on one's knees is not customary in Judaism and I was not yet comfortable with doing that) with tears streaming down my face. I began doing this every evening.

Around this same time I started to read the Bible voraciously. I spent part of the summer visiting various Christian bookstores and eating up every translation I could find. I read the entire New Testament for the first time (and was in the process of reading much of the Old for the first time as well). I knew that Christianity was the last option that I had not yet considered, and I wanted to know more.

However, there was just one little problem. I'm Jewish. If there was one thing about Judaism that was always hammered in to me, it is that Jews do not believe in Jesus. I always knew who Jesus was, historically. Since I went to a public school, my parents had to explain to me why we do not celebrate Christmas and Easter. In a roundabout way, this made Jesus a reality of life. And childlike curiosity would often get the best of me -- I would secretly watch religious television programs and often feel jealous at how happy and satisfied these Christian people appeared.

That jealousy was coming back in full force. I started visiting Christian Web sites and hanging out in Christian chatrooms. It was there that I met a special friend, a gentleman named Jim. He seemed to be a knowledgable, fatherly type, so I nurtured a friendship with him. One day while we were chatting privately, I confided in him. I told him that I was different than the other people in the chatroom. He said that we are all different in our own ways.

"No," I insisted, "I am very, very different. I'm Jewish."

His reaction? "That's fine -- my Lord and Savior is Jewish." He introduced me to some people that he knew from around the world, who were Jewish and believed in Jesus (Yeshua as I was beginning to call Him).

I began to learn about Messianic Judaism. I realized that you can be a Jew in every sense of the word, and believe in Yeshua. Yeshua was presented to me as a Jewish Messiah who came for the salvation of the Jews first. I saw that I did not have to take upon myself foreign practises like Christmas and Easter, but that I could continue observing the feasts of the Lord, just like He did. I also learned about the importance of observing the Torah, which is God's will for our lifestyles.

Despite my cultural baggage about Jesus (at least, the Anglo-Saxon version of Jesus that was always presented to me), On January 23, 1999, in my bedroom, I accepted Yeshua as my Lord and Savior.

Almost immediately, I felt the walls inside my heart and soul begin to crumble. I started to feel more settled, more mature, like I had more direction in my life. I realized that things are easier to deal with, with prayer and studying God's word. Most importantly, I know that every day I walk in God's glory and light. I never had that reassurance before.

I am also more comfortable with my Jewish heritage now, more than ever before. I follow the Torah, live more of a Jewish lifestyle than ever, and if I make a mistake, I know that I am covered and cleansed by Yeshua's sacrifice. God is a part of my daily existence -- I don't have to rely on a prayerbook, or a specific language, or a place, or having a certian number of people gathered -- I can connect with God on a one-on-one basis any time I want.

As my friend Jim says, I am doubly blessed -- I am one of God's Chosen People and one of His children in His Kingdom.

Copyright 2002