From Priesthood to Prayer: The Journey of Rabbi Yehuda Peretz

For the first 17 years of his life, Alfredo Diaz lived as a devoted Christian in the Mexican port city of Veracruz. His father was the head of a local church, and like the rest of his family, Alfredo attended services, studied the Bible, and was on track to become a priest. But just before taking that step, everything changed. A single decision to read the Bible in its original language set him on a path that would lead to Torah, conversion, and life as a Haredi rabbi in Israel.

Alfredo was born to Sixto and Liliana Diaz. He was one of ten children, six sons and four daughters. His early life was typical: school during the day, church on Sundays, and sports in the afternoons. “We were part of a group called ‘Christians for Jews,’” recalls Rabbi Yehuda Peretz, as he’s known today. “We were taught that Jews were special, but also ‘blind’ for not accepting that man as the messiah.”

In Alfredo’s church, Bible study was part of daily life. “Everyone brought a Bible. The priest would choose a verse, and whoever found it first had to read it aloud. Then, each person would share what they thought it meant. I was just a kid, but people noticed that my interpretations were deep and unusual. Soon, they began grooming me for leadership. My father being the head of the church fully supported it.”

By age 14, Alfredo was already serving actively in the church. He also studied the New Testament, and that’s when he started noticing contradictions. “When we saw clear contradictions between the Bible and the New Testament, we’d just guess the answers,” he says. “Imagine trying to understand G-d’s word through personal opinions, without any traditional commentaries. It was confusing and dangerous.”

Three years passed. At 17, Alfredo was told he would soon be officially baptized as a priest. Even though he had growing doubts, he didn’t share them with anyone. “I asked to delay the process. I wasn’t going to fake it. If I was going to lead others in faith, I needed to be sure myself. And at that point, I wasn’t.”

Hoping for clarity, he sent a list of theological questions to the Vatican. The response shocked him. “They basically said: ‘These things can’t be answered.’ It was a slap in the face to anyone searching for truth.”

The breaking point came soon after, when a Spanish ship arrived in Veracruz carrying Bibles in many languages. Alfredo and others bought ten versions and compared them. “Each translation was different. Every translator inserted their own ideas. I realized even the translators were guessing.”

At 18, while studying architecture at Cetmar College and playing for Mexico’s national baseball team, Alfredo found himself deeply torn between faith and doubt. “I believed in the Creator with all my heart, but Christianity no longer made sense. I debated Muslims and other religious people but never Jews. We were taught that Jews were ‘blind.’ The idea of turning to Judaism never crossed my mind.”

At night, Alfredo would take his guitar to the beach, sit in the dark, and pour out his heart to G-d. One night, he had an idea: “What if I study the Bible in the original Hebrew?” That simple thought was the turning point of his life.

Right after making that decision, he met a Jew for the first time. “He was from Aden, Yemen, living in London. He didn’t look different, no kippah. But to me, every Jew was like a priest in the Temple, a holy person. I invited him to my home for a blessing.”

In Alfredo’s community, Jews were held in the highest regard. They were called “Big Brothers” and “Ambassadors of G-d.” When the Jew spoke to them about Judaism and shared stories from the Oral Torah, the crowd was mesmerized. “We had never heard explanations like that. Even the children were silent, sensing something sacred.”

After a few days, Alfredo gave the visitor a long list of questions. The man answered honestly: “I don’t have all the answers. But there are rabbis in Mexico City who do. If you’re serious, go speak with them.”

Alfredo didn’t hesitate. He left his studies, his sports career, and without telling anyone, traveled to Mexico City. “I knew this was my moment. If I didn’t go, I might lose something eternal.”

It was springtime. He arrived in Mexico City on a Wednesday. On Friday night, his Jewish friend Nissim Yosef took him to synagogue. “He walked right in, but I froze at the door. I couldn’t move. I stood there, crying. Suddenly I understood this Book we studied all our lives wasn’t history. It was alive.”

“I remembered a verse from Psalms we used to sing in church: ‘One thing I ask of Hashem, this I seek that I dwell in the house of Hashem all the days of my life.’ I had never understood it. A few hours in synagogue, sure. But all the days of your life? Now I understood. Now it made sense.”

In Mexico City, Alfredo found the answers he was searching for. He began the long process of conversion to Judaism, left Mexico, moved to Israel, and got married. He settled in the religious town of Hashmonaim and became Rabbi Yehuda Peretz.

Incredibly, many members of his family followed his path. His mother now lives in Jerusalem, and his nine siblings live in various Haredi communities across Israel. To help ease the transition, their rabbis instructed them to live in different cities, where they could grow at their own pace.

Only his father and oldest sister remained in the Christian faith. “It was hardest for my father,” Rabbi Peretz says. “But I never argued with him. Rabbi Ben Zion Abba Shaul told me to focus only on honoring my parents. I told my father, ‘You prayed your whole life that we’d serve G-d. Now I’m truly doing that. Joining the Jewish people is the answer to your prayers.’ He had no reply.”

Looking at Rabbi Peretz today, you would never guess his story. He wears a black kippah, a buttoned shirt, and a suit like any other Haredi man. But he remembers where he came from and the gift he received.

“I’ll never forget that first Shabbat in Mexico City. I saw how Jews bring both the physical and the spiritual together in their service of Hashem. Suddenly, I understood holiness in a completely new way. I compare it to honey. Millions of mosquitoes can’t produce honey. Only the bee can. The nations of the world can talk about holiness but only the Jewish people were given the tools to live it.”

About 15 years ago, a Mexican film director began working on a documentary about Rabbi Peretz and his community’s journey. That project is now nearing completion and is expected to be screened soon in theaters.

Assisted in material collection: Sarah Gross