A Jew Finds The Messiah
By Daniel Rose as told to
Anne Hazelton
fr -> H E throbbing organ notes seemed to fall all around us as we turned the corner on Ninth Street in Cin cinnati, Ohio. I felt the inner tension within me ease and I realized how eagerly I had been waiting for those first strains of music. “ Far away in the depths of my spirit tonight,” sang the choir and congrega tion of the Ninth Street Baptist Church, “ Rolls a melody sweeter than psalm; In celestial-like strains it unceasingly falls, O’er my soul like an infinite calm.” The melody, even more than the words, reached down into my heart and stilled the tumult that was growing with each day. Every Sunday night it was the same. We started out to attend a burlesque show in a nearby theater as had been our habit of late, but each time I waited, almost with bated breath, for that moment of first hearing the music from the church we had to pass. I had wondered for weeks now if Selina had noticed how my feet slowed as we passed the beautiful church building. But I had never suggested we go in. I was a Jew and a Jew did hot enter a Christian church—not one who had been reared as I. Yet each Sunday night I walked as slowly as I could, prolong ing the moment before we passed out of earshot. There was a sense of re luctance in going on and an undefined longing to toss all objections and re straints of race and religion aside and go in to hear more. This night my feet slowed to a stop. “ Shall we go in, my Selina?” I sug gested softly, almost as surprised as she at my involuntary words. I thought I read in the swift, startled look she threw at me something of dismay. Se lina had been a Catholic when we were married, but she had renounced family to marry a Jew. “ I—I like the music . . . ” I explained. “ If you wish, Daniel,” she answered quietly. I looked about us to make sure no one we knew had noticed us. It wouldn’t do for any of my fellow-Jews to see me entering a Christian church. Then we went in . . . all the way up to the bal cony, well shielded from the sight of any passer-by who might recognize me. We stood with the congregation to sing the next hymn, and I sang as firmly as anyone, “ The Church’s one foundation is . . . ” and then stopped and quickly placed my fingers over the next two words. It was an involuntary action—dating back to my childhood. I M A R C H , 1 9 5 2
that very long day and I set out on my walk home, the joy and excitement stilled. Suddenly the air seemed full of flying fists as a half dozen fellows jumped out at me. Around me tumbled the words, “ Christ-killer!” and “ Shee- ney!” shouted with each blow directed at me. “ Father, why did they say I killed Christ?” I sobbed later when I escaped my tormentors and reached the safety of our home. The awful things Father said then about the Lord and the look on his face had frightened me almost as much as the boys had done. But my heart had hardened against any men tion of Christ from that day. Numerous people had spoken to me of Christ in the years that followed, but I was always resentful and pri vately thought them to be demented. And while, as I grew older and much more worldly I became more tolerant of other faiths, nevertheless I wanted nothing to do with the Lord Jesus Christ. I liked to sing and I was even willing to sing Christian songs but I could not sing the name of Christ. I did not dream I would ever enter the church again. I had gone on impulse and Selina had dutifully followed me. But we had a full social life and while I loved music there was no need to satisfy that interest in a church. Yet, the very next Sunday evening Selina and I were back at the Ninth Street Baptist Church. And gradually, without any conscious thought, going to church replaced attendance at the theater, and worldly things began to be distasteful to me. I found myself disliking profan ity, although I could not have explained the cause. And I still paused in my singing while the others sang the name of Jesus Christ, and would then rejoin them. All unknown to me, events were shaping that were to change my entire life. My sister Carrie and I had mar ried brother and sister and we four had been very close in our family, business, and social lives. Then Carrie and Charles moved to another city and we did not see them so frequently. I had not heard from Carrie for some time when one day I received a letter from her. I could not believe the words I read. Dear Brother: I have something wonderful to tell you. Please read this letter through re gardless of what you feel when you see Page Seven
could not bring myself to speak the hated name, JESUS CHRIST. As a child I had thought if I covered up the two words, I would not have to see them. But I had seen them. The lofty walls of the church where we stood seemed to fade from my immediate sight and I saw instead the small room that was familiar to me as a boy. I was six years old and had come home from my
Mr. Rose and his sister Carrie Menard first day at school . . . a frightened, confused, and tearful small lad. Because my father was religiously orthodox, and ours was a Jewish home in which the laws and ceremonies of Judaism were strictly followed, I had from my earliest remembrance a deep desire to know more about the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. With re ligious zeal I always observed the fast days and the holy days. I would even refrain from cleaning my teeth at those times for fear of accidentally getting a drop of water down my throat. My father had a deep hatred for Jesus Christ and because of the things I had heard him say, the name of Jesus con jured up in my young mind all the per secutions of my people for centuries past and I, too, hated Him. I hated Him more than ever after that first day at school. The day had begun with high excite ment, for at last I was old enough to go to the public school. Getting there was accomplished without incident for Father took me. But the day at school had been as different from my eager anticipations as darkness is from light. I had been avoided by the other boys and girls on the playground but laugh ter swelled behind me as I passed and once I heard someone mutter, “ Christ- killer!” The worst was yet to come. Classes were dismissed at the end of
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