From Germany to Jerusalem: “We Knew This Was Home”

I met Sarah at a Torah class in Zikhron Ya’akov, where we both live. At first, it was her German-accented Hebrew that caught my ear. Then I noticed her graceful and modest presence, especially on Shabbat when she would arrive at synagogue wearing beautiful clothes for the holy day. One day, at a gathering of women who had become religious, I heard a small part of her fascinating story, a journey she shared with her husband and four children from Germany to Israel, from Christianity to becoming fully Jewish. I wanted to hear more. That’s how this conversation was born.

Sarah sits across from me with bright blue eyes and a youthful face, her hair covered with a simple cap. “I was always searching for truth,” she begins. “I was 500% Christian. As teenagers, we would read the New Testament and also the Bible. That was our way of spending time, instead of going to entertainment places. I spent years deeply believing and living as a devoted Christian. But over time, I realized it was all a lie. Slowly, over many steps, my friend and I came to understand that the truth was in Judaism.”

Sarah grew up in a warm Christian home. Her mother was a kind and sincere woman who believed in God, and to Sarah, she seemed righteous. Sarah’s grandparents had even helped save Jews during the Holocaust, giving them shelter and risking their lives. These stories left a deep impression on her.

She was raised in a religious Christian community. It was a dangerous time under Communist rule and anyone with faith, in any religion, was watched. Sarah’s father was even imprisoned for believing in God. But instead of pushing her away, the oppression only made Sarah’s belief stronger. “I was basically a missionary,” she says. “I would speak about Christianity publicly, together with others in my group.” It was in this group that she met David, who would become her husband and partner on the journey to Judaism.

Her turn toward Judaism began after they were married and had four children. “David always knew he had Jewish roots,” she tells me. “His father was a priest, but his grandmother, his father’s mother was Jewish. During the Holocaust, when Nazi SS officers came to the grandmother’s house, her non-Jewish husband stood at the door and said, ‘You’ll only take my wife and children over my dead body.’ He refused to divorce her or let the Nazis harm her or their children. That brave man saved his wife and all five of their children including David’s father, who was Jewish.”

David found out about his Jewish roots when he was just ten, at his grandmother’s funeral. In his grief, his father opened up and shared the truth. Despite being a priest, he had many Jewish books at home, even Hasidic ones. David was deeply moved. He began researching and asking questions. He was expected to become a priest like his father, but he quietly decided he wanted something else.

Although David knew for years that he wanted to convert to Judaism, he waited. Sarah took her own slow journey. “There came a point when I felt like I was in a vacuum, not here and not there,” she recalls. “I can’t say exactly when I made the decision, but I suddenly felt that the Creator of the world was showing me my path. Like a baby being held and guided. Like walking into a dark room and suddenly the light is turned on. That’s how it felt.”

Sarah realized that the faith she had grown up with, while comforting and beautiful on the surface, was not true. “It was like being pregnant,” she explains. “The ‘birth’ was my decision to convert.” At that time, she still didn’t even know what conversion meant. But David’s quiet, supportive presence helped. “He always told me he wouldn’t pressure me. He just waited patiently for the day I would be ready.”

Eventually, that day came. Together, Sarah and David made the choice to convert. It was dangerous in East Germany, where they lived at the time. But their desire to follow the truth was stronger than fear. They left East Berlin, risking everything, to find rabbis in West Germany who could guide them.

“At the time, we were living in Communist East Berlin,” Sarah says. “Our children already had Hebrew names, and we felt in our hearts that we wanted to become Jews. But in East Berlin, we couldn’t contact any rabbis. So we had to find clever ways to get out. It was risky. Some people who tried to leave disappeared or were thrown in prison. The government claimed there was no God, and anyone who lived with faith was in danger. But with Hashem’s help, what usually takes years took only six months, and we were allowed to leave. It was a miracle.”

One day, I noticed Sarah at the synagogue wearing a striking Star of David necklace. I asked her about it, and she said there was a story behind it. Today, she shares it.

“When we were still in the Christian village in East Berlin, my husband worked in maintenance. One day, while digging underground to lay electric cables, he found something buried 80 centimeters deep, a gold Star of David with real rubies. We were shocked. We brought it to the local priest and asked how a Jewish symbol got there. He told us that before World War I, Jews lived in that village, and Jewish women used to wash their clothes at that very spot. One of them must have dropped the necklace. For us, it felt like a clear sign from Hashem, one of many along the way.”

After escaping East Berlin, the family moved to a small village in West Germany, near Stuttgart. “We started over in a tiny two-room apartment shared with several families. It felt like an absorption center,” Sarah says. “We worked, we put our children in school, and we began reaching out to rabbis. But it wasn’t easy. Many rabbis turned us away. Eventually, we found a rabbi though he was several hundred kilometers away.”

Even the long distance didn’t stop them. “The process took years. It wasn’t easy. But eventually, we became fully Jewish, with the blessing of the rabbis who guided us. After I immersed in the mikveh (ritual bath), I felt like I was born again. It was such a powerful feeling. And of course, we also had to get married again and this time with a proper Jewish chuppah (wedding canopy), kiddushin (Jewish marriage), and witnesses. It was very emotional. Thirty people who had also converted joined us for the wedding. We took Hebrew names and fully became part of Am Yisrael, the Jewish people. It was a day of great joy.”

Eventually, they made aliyah, immigrated to Israel, on Shabbat Ekev, right after Tisha B’Av and before the High Holidays. “We arrived with no language, no work, no school plans for our kids. We had to start over, again. Everything was backwards even the Hebrew writing goes right to left! But because we were searching for truth and had such a strong desire to be Jewish, Hashem helped us. The people of Zikhron Ya’akov welcomed us with kindness. They helped us find schools, jobs, and even ulpan (Hebrew language classes). I became a caregiver, and my husband worked in a hotel as a maintenance man.”

How did it feel to finally arrive in Israel?

“I remember our first visit four years before we made aliyah. It was during Sukkot. As soon as our feet touched the ground, we both felt something very deep. We felt at home.”

Sarah tells her story with energy and excitement, as if it happened yesterday. Everything is still so alive for her.

What were the most special moments after settling in Israel?

“My first Yom Kippur here was breathtaking. So were the other holidays. I remember the joy of building our very first sukkah as Jews in Eretz Yisrael. That moment still fills me with happiness.”

And it’s true. On Yom Kippur, when most of us are rushing home after the long fast, Sarah remains in synagogue, staying for the evening prayer. Her determination is inspiring. She became Jewish not through power or position but through her deep will and faith.

Today, Sarah and David have already married off three of their four children and have two grandchildren. “My husband goes to synagogue joyfully, three times a day. I join him on Shabbat and holidays. He studies Torah every week with a chavruta (study partner) and on his own. I go to weekly Torah classes. I especially love learning Hasidic teachings and stories of tzaddikim (righteous people).”

Even after many years, Sarah’s thirst for Torah hasn’t faded. She still approaches it with the same wonder and joy as someone discovering it for the first time. She holds tightly to the path that brought her close to Hashem.