I was born and raised in an orthodox Jewish home. Every Friday night my mother would light the candles and say the Jewish prayers. We also had three sets of dishes: one for dairy products, one for meat and one for Passover use according to the custom in most Jewish homes, I received my religious instruction from a rabbi.
My brother suggested my taking up the saxophone while I was attending high school. The instrument seemed to be fitted for me; often I spent six and seven hours a day in practice, even on the hottest days, and I dreamed of being a great musician.
When I graduated from high school I played with several bands; in them were all kinds of nationalities and religions. One had nothing better than the other. We were all in the same boat—hopeless and lost. With the others, I drank and gambled and thought of nothing but to have a good time.
All the while, however, I felt that something was lacking, but I did not know what it was. I tried philosophy. I read James, Plato and Schopenhauer, seeking satisfaction but finding none.
About this time I came home to Brooklyn after a New Jersey engagement. One evening I noticed a small crowd on a street corner. I went over to the gathering and saw a man holding a saxophone. Another man was speaking. What he was saying meant nothing to me, but the saxophone did. I wanted to see how well he could play it.
I had to stand there fifteen minutes before the man picked up the saxophone. Then he only played a simple note to start the singing! I did not particularly enjoy the singing but I wanted to hear the man play a saxophone solo. So I waited still longer. In the meantime I became more and more interested in what the speaker was saying. It was twenty minutes before the man picked up the saxophone again, and this time he only picked it up to pack it up—and the meeting was over!
However, by this time I had become really interested. At the close of the meeting one of the singers came to me and invited me to come to the mission the next evening. Then he did something else for which I will be grateful as long as I live—he gave me a New Testament.
After we parted I went straight home. I began to read the Book, and continued to read on and on—hour after hour until I had read most of the New Testament through before dawn the next morning.
Within twenty-four hours after I received that copy of the New Testament on a street corner in Brooklyn—through the simple reading of the Word of God—I saw that I was a sinner and that the Lord Jesus was Israel's true Messiah. Then I did the only reasonable thing that one could do under the circumstances: I believed in my heart that He bore my sins in His own body on the tree.
The following night I went back to the mission and publicly confessed my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Now I am a saved Jew because I believe in the true Messiah of Israel.
When Christ came into my life He made me a new creature! Old things have passed away and all things have become new. The wonderful joy and peace that have come into my life far surpass all the so-called pleasures of my former life. Today I have the blessed hope of being with my Lord for all eternity.