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Going door to door in Wheeling, giving our invitations to a Messianic wide Hanukkah party

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How can Christians break down those barriers that have over the centuries distorted and obstructed - even in the name of Christianity - the true heart of the Messiah! How is it possible to encourage Jews and tell them that God has not forsaken them?

So what barriers are you referring to that Christians have broken down? Have you considered the barriers that our rabbis have created to say that a Jew can believe in anything, in anyone BUT Jesus? What if G-d wants us to believe in Jesus as Messiah but the rabbis don’t? Now who is putting up the barriers?

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Daughter of a Holocaust Survivor

Daughter of a Holocaust Survivor.

Written by Andrea Zaretsky

Andrea’s parents’ (Eva and Alex) wedding.  Several of the others in the photo died in the Holocaust.

Editor's note: Those who have endured the horrors of the Holocaust and have lived to tell the story ... sometimes choose not to. As John Menszer, project director of the Holocaust Survivors website explains, "You are entering into a part of people's lives where there is a reservoir of pain, and they are often reluctant to go there."[ 1 ] Some will only share their account with their family. And it is common for survivors to shield their children from the brutal details of what they experienced. In some extreme cases, Holocaust survivors have not even told their children they are Jewish. This can be due to the fear that the persecution they experienced may repeat itself in their children's lives. The following story is a case in point.

Growing up as a young girl in Philadelphia, I attended a private Quaker school and a Presbyterian church. The way some things were taught in my Presbyterian Sunday school class didn't quite make sense to me. My thinking seemed to be different. The Father, Son and Holy Ghost being "three in one" sounded like a magic show - whiz, bang, pop - three became one! But I loved reading the Bible stories. And I was able to relate to a movie re-enactment of the crucifixion of Jesus. I was very emotionally moved and somehow understood that the emotional pain of bearing the sins of the world was even harder than the physical torture.

I wanted to ask Jesus into my life. Being a well-read child, I learned in the New Testament that the conversion of Saul [the Apostle Paul] on the road to Damascus was accompanied by a blinding light. The basement of our house would allow the much-needed light in through the windows. My pet bunny, Nutmeg, was hopping around when I asked Jesus into my life. Nothing happened.

Not long after, on a beautiful, sunny day in downtown Philadelphia, I was crossing the street when there appeared before me, suspended in the sky, Jesus. I instantly knew who it was; it could be no one else. I could not see his features clearly because the light that emanated from him was so bright. I could tell his arms were open for me. Madly looking around, I wanted to find someone else who saw what I did, but it was obvious from the lack of reaction that no one else did. It was not the kind of thing you could see and casually keep going. The memory is vivid to this day.

Andrea’s mother, Eva

Then one Christmas, when I was nine or ten, my mom, Eva, was crying, emotionally falling apart. I heard her sobbing about her father, Albert Brichta, whom she loved dearly. She was also crying about an Uncle Julius, whom she especially adored. My mom revealed that both died in Auschwitz. As shock wore off and surprise settled in, the thought gradually entered my mind: I guess I must be Jewish!

 I learned that my mother and grandmother survived in Hungary's Jewish ghetto, sometimes having to eat dead horse meat that my grandma snuck in. I discovered that my father, too, was Jewish. He saw his father, Armin Krausz, shot in the head and killed by a Nazi. Every year my grandfather Krausz had performed two free violin concerts - one for Jewish orphans and one for gentile orphans.

Painting of Andrea’s grandfather, Armin Krausz (1916). Andrea’s father saw his father, Armin, shot in the head and killed by a Nazi.

I remember asking my mom why she and my father never told me my whole family was Jewish. She said it was not deliberate, but that being Jewish meant having your family killed. I was so surprised to hear that, and yet today I understand. When my cousin and I look at old family photos, he points to this relative and that one and says, "Auschwitz." This is my family. They are not large groups of people to celebrate Thanksgiving with. They are pictures. They are tombstones. They are a people I long for yet have never met. If I am asked about my heritage, my reply is that I am the child of Holocaust survivors.

Not long after the revelation of my Jewish identity, I started reading The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich - heavy reading for a young girl. My identity always goes back to the Holocaust. I spent my school and university years reading, questioning and searching for Truth. What else is a nice Jewish girl to do?

In my late twenties I worked in Montreal. A business associate had recently been "born again" and asked me to come to a home Bible study group. So I did. If I wasn't confused before, this was it. In their honest desire to see me "saved," they used language that I could not understand, like, "You are coming from the Law" and, in their prayers, "the blood of Jesus." I would remember the movie I saw as a child about the crucifixion and cringe.

I read a book entitled Who Am I? by Norman Grubb, which filled in the gaps in my understanding from when I was a child until adulthood. My concern was, If I ask Yeshua (Jesus) into my life, will I be a traitor to my Jewish people? History provides plenty of proof that Jewish people did not fare well at the hands of Christians. I kept searching the Scriptures and came to see Yeshua as my atonement for sins, my elder Jewish brother. One more time I asked him to come into my life. With all the questions no longer twirling in my brain, I experienced the loudest quiet ever.

The Holocaust still casts a shadow over my life. But there are bright spots. My grandchildren are signs of a new generation growing up. They are completely North American, different than my European family. But one thing I pray we will have in common - the peace and joy of knowing Yeshua.

[jeremiahandhannah]

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Reaching out to the students of Berkeley with the Good News of Jesus the Messiah. There were hundreds of students and I had some great conversations.

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Outreach at Pier 69

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Three Jewish Bubbies* have dinner and a discussion over Survivor Stories

Recently I was on a sortie (tract-passing expedition) with my colleague Shannon Fischer, who works at our headquarters. She mentioned her desire to reach the Jewish neighbors in her apartment complex with the gospel. We thought and prayed about what we could do, and weeks later, my wife Hannah and I came to a dinner hosted by Shannon. Three of her Jewish friends as well as a Christian were also invited, knowing that we would be there, and that we would watch the Survivor Stories DVD and have a discussion afterwards.  (Survivor Stories is a compilation of testimonies of Jewish Holocaust survivors who found hope in Jesus.)

The dinner discussion was quite entertaining (you can imagine the lively conversations that would arise from three Jewish grandmas sitting together).

‘You didn’t eat enough.’

‘I forgot to take my blood pressure medicine.’

‘My gosh, you’re so skinny!’

‘When's the baby due?’

‘You sure you ate enough?’

‘You need to find Shannon a good husband.’

‘I take three different kinds of blood pressure medicine.’

‘Eat some more honey, you're too skinny.’

There was a lot of laughter. We had just started eating when Ava turned to my wife and asked the first of what would be many pointed questions that evening, “So Hannah, honey, you’re a Jew for Jesus? Tell me why.” Could we have asked for a better opening? Great conversation ensued.

Dinner ended and we transitioned to the living room.  As an introduction to Survivor Stories I shared about my family background.  I’m the grandson of a Holocaust survivor. I shared about my mom’s miraculous vision of a man who was shining with brilliant light and knowing even as a child, that the man was Jesus.  Then we watched the first two testimonies of Survivor Stories.  We discussed what we had seen, and after much back and forth I asked two questions: “How should we respond to human suffering?” and “What hope is there for us today?” The women offered some thoughts, but none of them very concrete.

“For me” I shared, “my hope lies in the fact that I serve a God who promised to be there with us- even when we walk through the flood, even when we walk through the fires, the trials (or literal fires). My hope lies in the fact that God so loves us, he willingly gave up his life for us, so that we could live and not die.  God wants to redeem you (as I looked into the eyes of each of those three Jewish souls staring back at me), and He wants to give you hope too.”

I was done talking.  I handed each lady a few brochures to take home so that they could think on the subject more if they wanted to. Then my wife and I picked up our guitars and shared a song that she had written called Forget Me Not. I could tell that the music touched a part of these ladies that my words never could have.

After a few hugs and kisses….ok after many hugs and kisses from these sweet Jewish grandmothers, we parted. What an amazing night of ministry! It all started with the faithful witness of a Christian who loves her Jewish neighbors; and wasn’t afraid to ask for help reaching out to them. As I like to say to anyone who wants to witness to a Jewish friend, “you can do it; we can help.”

Please pray for Roz, Dorothy, and Ava to respond to the Gospel!

*Yiddish for grandmothers

[jeremiahandhannah]

Serve the City

Today two churches, including the one Hannah and I started attending, Reality, joined together with city organizations to go into the TenderLoin (a.k.a "TL"). This part of San Francisco is arguably the most dangerous district of the city. There are more shootings, drug deals and any other shady business you can think of there than anywhere else. We went there, to the residence (and homeless people who occupy the streets of the TL), to shine for Jesus.

Over 1,000 people from two churches hit the streets to offer services including: free hair cuts, dog washes, foot washing, mani/pedis, medical/vision/dental care, clothes and more. My team's job was to find people, invite them to take advantage of the free services, love on them, listen to their stories, and share the Gospel with them. No problem right?

What a spiritually oppressive area the TL is. It reminds me of an area in downtown Vancouver known as the East Side, which is filled with poverty, prostitution, drugs, violence and hopelessness.  When I was on internship working at a church in North Vancouver, once a week I would go to the East Side to assist a lady by the name of Street Mom. She would hand out food to a few hundred people each night.

Anyways, needless to say, the TL is a place that needs the light of Jesus. I had many short conversations with people but one longer conversation sticks out as the highlight of my time.

In the midst of crowded streets I noticed a woman standing just in front of me. I asked her if she knew what was going on and told her about some of the free ­­services. She said she needed the free legal council but what she really needed was a meal. I asked her if I could treat her and of course she said yes. On the way to the café on the corner across the street, we made our introductions; her name was Amanda.

After ordering a bagel and cream cheese, we sat down and Amanda told me her story. Without going into all the details suffice to say that Amanda has struggled through substance abuse, she’s lived through physical abuse and has survived a life of prostitution.

I felt led to open my Bible and read a scripture to her. I opened up to a chapter in Luke and read the story of Jesus healing a crippled woman who was demon possessed. Jesus was teaching in the synagogue and he looked at his woman, told her she was healed, touched her and healed her.

My heart broke as the truth of Jesus’ words and actions hit me; Jesus looked at the woman. He noticed her. Her, this outcast of society. Jesus noticed her. I told Amanda that Jesus noticed her too. I was able to pray for Amanda and then she had to leave.

I can’t begin to tell you how this conversation impacted me. Here was a woman who has experienced so much pain and brokenness and yet was so optimistic about life and knew that God is good despite her circumstances.

To watch a quick video about this Serve the City event watch this video http://vimeo.com/70575902 ­

[jeremiahandhannah]

Please stay out of the "Jews" tag. Your religion is not Judaism and Jews do not what to see that crap.

So if I am Jewish then what isn't Judaism about that? What do you know about my religion? Just curious...

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My first outreach in San Francisco

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Music concert in Washington Square Park

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An update from David Brickner (by JewsForJesus)

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God heals in Penn Station

This morning, I was inside Penn Station and sitting at a literature table with balloons and a sign that said “Jews for Jesus.”  A lady walked over to me and said, “I need to find a new home.”  It turned out that she was traveling with her son.  She told me that she had a lot of physical ailments. “Do you have pain?” I asked.  “Yes, especially in my legs” she responded.  I asked her, “Can I pray for you?”  “Sure,” she said.  So, right there, I prayed for healing.  After our prayer I asked, “How do you feel?”  “Wow.  All the pain is gone!  There is no more pain in my legs.”  God answered that prayer that morning.

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I am on the leadership of this Summer Witnessing Campaign. Thank you for your prayers.

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I was on a sortie at Battery Park yesterday. Towards the end of my time I ended up meeting a lady in her 60’s. I noticed the writing on her t-shirt which looked like it was Eastern European. The lady told me she was visiting from Poland. I found out that she was catholic but had dinner the previous night with a Jewish girlfriend of hers who is a rabbi here in NY. I shared the Gospel with her as we walked and then we parted ways. As I turned around there stood in front of me a young man with a grin on his face. “I was following you because I heard you witnessing to that lady. I was praying for you as you talked with her” he said. Little did I know that for the duration of my conversation with this Polish lady I had a curious shadow (see pic below)

I learned that Michael is a college student who is a born again. I asked Michael how we came to faith. He proceeded to tell me that as a kid he would go to church with his family. One day in his living room, his Jewish grandmother prayed with him to receive the Lord! “Wow. That is cool!” I said out loud.

I asked Michael what he was doing in the park. He showed me one of his pamphlets that he was handing out. I told with him about our young adult Shabbat fellowship in Brooklyn and he was eager to meet other Jewish believers. It was a neat time of outreach.

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Giselle and I singing and playing outside the Jews for Jesus office in Manhattan before the Sabbath.

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more music outside the office