Dear Readers,

Last time, I told you about a debate I had with a group of great rabbis in upstate New York, in the presence of their pupils and many viewers. The debate, where I represented Christianity, was surprisingly very hard for me and left me with powerful impressions. I felt battered and bruised by the powerful questions the rabbis addressed to me for the first time.

I returned to Florida with burning questions about Christianity and its interpretations of the Bible, which I could not even begin to answer. Still, I was certain that I would find the solutions in my Sunday meetings with the priests. Indeed, I was allowed to pose questions whenever it was possible and I taped the answers they offered, but sometimes my questions led to a lengthy debate that ended with evading or unsatisfactory answers.

That year I went on an intensive study. I contacted priests and former bishops who converted to Judaism and reside in Jerusalem. I met a former Franciscan nun who converted and currently lives in Zefat as an ultra-Orthodox Jew, raising 10 children. I conversed with a German priest from Hamburg who became a Hassid and lives in Jerusalem. I read articles by an Argentine bishop who quit his post with the church after 23 years in office, was circumcised and started attending a Jerusalem yeshiva. I met a Belgian and an Italian who studied for high priesthood in the Vatican, but then converted to Judaism and became Hassidim.

I expanded the circle of my conversants, and with every encounter, phone call, book, and debate over interpretations of holy books, I began to realize that I left behind, in my homeland, a hidden treasure of universal truth which I carelessly abandoned and scornfully turned my back on years ago… I realized then that I had not known enough about my being a Jew. I realized I cannot answer why I had forsaken it without studying Judaism just as I studied Christianity. I did not know what it was, so how could I hate it? How did I lose control of my actions without research and criticism?

My friends at the Church started to notice that I was attending the regular meetings less frequently than before. To pull me back in, they invited me to "give a preaching" on Sunday. Being a former Jew, they asked me to explain about Bar Mitzvah and tefillin. I tried to get some tefillin and called my mother and brother to ask if they could send me a set. Both hung up on me as soon as they heard my voice. It turned out that they found out what I had been up to, and naturally felt betrayed and hurt. I called my brother-in-law, the priest-turned-rabbi, who quickly sent them to me, hoping I was beginning to repent, but I only wanted to present the tefillin process to the churchgoers.

On a Sunday, having expressed fears that the worshippers would not want to hear and after the priest assured me that they all do, I stood on the podium and explained what it is that a Jew celebrates when he reaches 13, the order of the tefillin placement, the meaning of the ceremony and the meaning of Mitzvah.

Next time, dear readers, I will tell you how the church reacted.