From China to Jerusalem: A Journey Back to Torah

I had gone out to a restaurant to order my favorite dish, sweet and sour Chinese food just like I loved eating when I lived in China. I brought a sefer (Jewish book) a friend had mailed me, and while I waited for the food, I opened it and read two short halachot (Jewish laws).

The first halacha said that if a non-Jew does work on Shabbat for a Jew, the Jew is not allowed to benefit from it on Shabbat. The second halacha explained that if the work is done by a non-Jew for another non-Jew, a Jew can benefit from it.

Just then, the waiter came out of the kitchen holding my food. The smell was mouthwatering. I looked at the dish, then back at the halacha. According to what I just read, I couldn’t eat this. What should I do?

Now imagine this moment: I’m sitting alone, surrounded by 1.4 billion Chinese people, asking myself whether or not I should keep Shabbat. I honestly don’t know where the strength came from, but something inside me said: if it’s written, it’s written. I looked at the waiter and said, “I’m not feeling well today. Maybe tomorrow.”

I walked back to my room and asked myself, “What now? What about Oneg Shabbat, the joy of Shabbat? What will I eat?”

Not two minutes passed when there was a knock on my door. It was my Japanese friend, Tanka, holding a pot full of potatoes. “Did you eat?” he asked. “We just finished a big pot of potatoes, no meat. Want some? It’s still warm.”

This friend had lived with me for two years and had never once offered me food. And now, today of all days, he brought exactly what I needed, warm, simple food cooked by a non-Jew for another non-Jew. Exactly what the halacha said was allowed. In that moment, I felt like Hashem was wrapping His arms around me, whispering, “Lior, you keep Shabba and I’ll keep you.”

Searching for Meaning in China

After four intense years in China, I was invited to speak at my university graduation. I stood before my professors and classmates and said: “I came to China thinking I wanted to become Bruce Lee. But really, I was searching for Lior Stern. I wanted to know who I am, if I believe in anything, and what matters most to me in life.”

Everywhere I went, I asked people, “What’s most important to you?” And in the end, I found my own answer: the most important thing is to raise children with good values and a meaningful education. But for that, I knew I needed a partner to build a home and a life rooted in something real.

That realization helped me understand it was time to go back to Israel. I told my teachers goodbye and flew to Beijing with my parents.

Shema Yisrael on the Great Wall

Before returning home, I wanted to fulfill my father’s dream. He was already sick and in a wheelchair, but he had always hoped to visit the Great Wall of China. We made the trip. My father was so emotional, not just because of the breathtaking view, but also because of the change he saw in me. As we stood on the wall, he shouted with joy, “Shema Yisrael, Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem Echad!” Then he looked at me and said, “Lior, are you becoming religious? Take me with you.”

A New Chapter in Israel

My first day back in Israel, I woke up at five in the morning with a powerful urge to go to shul (synagogue). Friends welcomed me warmly and told me that there would be a siyum masechet (completion of a tractate of Talmud) that Tuesday. “Come,” they said. “Say a few words about your journey.”

At the event, the rabbi pulled me aside and said, “There’s a place called Netivot Olam. You’ll find pilots there, professors, all kinds of people even guys in black hats who’ve seen the world. Go check it out.”

After everything I had seen in China, I figured one more “tribe” couldn’t hurt. That Sunday I was in Israel, and by Wednesday, I was already learning at Yeshivat Netivot Olam. That was 16 years ago and those steps I took in China, and from China back home, continue to shape my life every day.

How did your family respond to your return to Torah?

At first, some people thought I’d lost my mind. A neighbor told my parents, “With Lior, everything takes four years: four years in China, four years in the army…”

But my father, who wasn’t observant, actually took it positively. And with time, the whole family grew closer to Judaism. My father even came to yeshiva with me to hear classes. Eventually, he started putting on tefillin and wearing tzitzit, something I never imagined.

Looking Back: What Do You Carry With You Today?

Every part of my journey, school, the army, China, it all gave me tools to serve Hashem. Those experiences help me connect to others, teach young people, and speak in a way that resonates. I don’t believe in erasing the past. Every moment added wisdom and helped me grow.

Today, I’m blessed to be married with five sons. Some of them already train in Chinese martial arts. I learn in a halacha kollel (advanced Torah learning program) in Ramat Shlomo, Jerusalem, and I continue to train and give lectures about my personal journey, how the road to finding myself led me right back home.