From Fear to Love: Oded Mizrachi on Returning to Judaism

A decade ago, Oded Mizrachi mostly came across stories of people returning to Judaism because of fear of tragedy, death, or punishment. That was the tone of the books he wrote at the time. But something has shifted, he says. Today, it’s different. “More and more people are coming back to Hashem through love,” he shares.

So far, Mizrachi has written nearly 20 books, most centered on true stories of spiritual return. Some are told through short, real-life accounts like those in his book Seeing Eye and the Returning Light series. Others take a more creative form, blending imagination with reality, as in Thoughts of Repentance.

“What draws me in is that I’ve gone through this journey myself,” Mizrachi explains. “Returning to Judaism is like the splitting of the Red Sea. It seems impossible at first. You're crossing from one world to another. Imagine a secular student in Tel Aviv suddenly moving to Bnei Brak or joining a Torah community like Shuvu Banim. It feels unrealistic. But it happens and it transforms not just your life, but your soul. That’s why I always say that stories of teshuvah remind me of the Exodus. There, even a maidservant saw more divine truth than the prophet Ezekiel. You witness such open hashgacha pratis, divine guidance that even tzaddikim (completely righteous people) don’t always see. It’s all meant to help and inspire others to take the journey.”

Now 51, Mizrachi lives in Jerusalem and is something of a trailblazer when it comes to telling stories of return. He’s also written books about his teachers and mentors, including Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh, Rabbi Menachem Liebman, and Rabbi Chanan Porat. At the moment, he’s working on six new books, each at a different stage of editing.

“It’s not an easy process,” he admits. “You need a lot of patience. Sometimes a book takes years to finish, and not everything is in your control. It’s a long journey. But in the meantime, I write for weekly publications, which gives more immediate feedback.”

How have teshuvah stories changed over the years?

“In the past, these stories involved much more dramatic transformations. You’d see someone completely uprooting their life, leaving one world and entering another. So the divine guidance and miracles had to be stronger and more visible. Today it’s a little softer. The path back to Hashem is smoother. It’s less scary. There’s more support. People don’t need to take such a huge leap all at once. They can return gradually, in ways that feel authentic and personal.

“A slow and steady return is something I see as very positive. When someone jumps in too fast, it can be risky. Look at Rabbi Uri Zohar, his journey was total, entering the ultra-Orthodox Lithuanian world fully, and it worked. But others, like musicians Meir and Ehud Banai, have returned in ways that are more balanced and unique to them.”

Is there a danger in returning too gradually? Could it make the process feel less meaningful?

“There’s risk in every path. That’s the meaning of the saying, ‘The whole world is a very narrow bridge.’ If you lose your identity, that’s a danger. But staying too much in the same place is also a risk. The key is not to lose yourself but also not to fall back into what once was.

“Each person has their own personality. For creative people especially, changing too fast and losing who they are can be especially hard.”

Out of the hundreds of stories you’ve heard, is there one that has stayed with you?

“There’s a story in Returning Light 2 that I’ll never forget. It’s called Light at the End of the Cave, and it’s about Rabbi Yosef Kahati, who was once a professional diver. During a dive, he and two friends got trapped in an underwater cave. They were running out of oxygen. With nowhere to turn, he cried out to Hashem from the depths of his heart. And suddenly, he saw a light. He followed it and led his friends to safety.

“Later, he began to draw closer to Judaism. He even brought his family to an Arachim seminar, an educational event for Jews exploring faith. But then something unexpected happened. His family grew more inspired, while he felt overwhelmed. He wanted to leave.

“Then, at a Chanukah seminar, a couple stood up and told their story. The wife tearfully shared how she had wanted to leave in the middle of Shabbat and convinced her husband to go. But on the way, they got into a terrible accident. She was badly injured. That story shook Rabbi Kahati to the core. It felt like a clear message from above and he realized he couldn’t run away anymore.”

“There are many powerful stories like this. But what I love seeing today is how many people return through love. That’s the main path now, even in the way outreach is done. It’s about light, warmth, and positivity.”

Can you share more about your own return to Judaism?

“My story is actually in the first Returning Light book. I was studying literature and film at Tel Aviv University when I met a Breslov chassid. He introduced me to a whole new world. Suddenly, I wasn’t just seeing Judaism as tradition or culture, but as a deep and true path. Especially when I began to learn the mystical side of Torah, I saw that everything was connected and filled with purpose.

“It wasn’t easy. I had to do a lot of soul-searching. I compared different ideas, questioned things, and realized that in many places, you only get partial answers. In today’s Jewish world, there’s a lot of disagreement. But someone returning to Judaism is not loyal to a group or label. He’s loyal to the truth. That’s what pushes him to keep searching.

“I don’t need to go back and question anymore whether Judaism is true, I know it is. But I also know there are others who are still searching, and it’s clear to me that if people find strength in these stories, then Hashem wants me to keep writing them. This is my mission, without a doubt.”

What was the hardest part of your journey?

“Looking back, I’d say the hardest part was the fear of losing myself. That’s a heavy thing. If someone changes on the outside but their inner soul isn’t there yet, it can cause serious crises.

“So I always tell people who are strengthening in their faith to do it with joy. Don’t rush. Better to do a little with happiness and meaning than a lot with no connection. Real teshuvah should feel natural and gentle. Yes, we need to make changes but they should come from the heart.”

“Teshuvah,” Mizrachi concludes, “is everything.”

“It’s not just about changing your habits. It’s about wanting to be better. It’s about longing for a more perfect world and for this world to stop feeling like a bad movie and to return to its holy source. Teshuvah is the journey of the soul back home.”