“The Light and Radiance of the Eternal”: Remembering the Late Rabbi Uri Zohar

I had never noticed it before, but suddenly it struck me: the name of the tzaddik (righteous man) and Torah giant, the late Rabbi Uri Zohar, contains both “Uri” (light) and “Zohar” (radiance). And once the thought hit me, so did the phrase that became this article’s title: “The light and radiance of the Eternal.”

Because all of that light, all of that glowing energy, was dedicated entirely to Heaven.

I don’t know if it’s possible to crown anyone the “greatest ba’al teshuvah (one who returns to Torah observance) of our generation.” After all, there may be hidden souls whose journey was longer, harder, and deeper. But it’s fair to say that Rabbi Uri Zohar was one of the people who sanctified Hashem's name in the public sphere—perhaps the greatest one.

I’m old enough to remember the shockwaves his teshuvah caused. Secular Israelis simply didn’t believe it. Many assumed it was “another one of Uri Zohar’s jokes.” His fame in the secular world was so immense that it shook the entire cultural fabric of Israel, from Tel Aviv to Dimona, from bohemians to kibbutzniks.

A Flame That Only Grew Brighter

There was something about his charisma, something unshakable. It didn’t dim when he became religious, and if anything, it intensified in his later years, when he walked the streets in a black kippah, white beard, and tzitzit (ritual fringes) over his shirt. During that time, his presence became a spiritual beacon. It wasn’t just charm anymore; it was a force of light. And he used it, especially in the final decades of his life, for one purpose only: to bring Jews closer to their Father in Heaven.

It was only at the urging of the late Rabbi Shach that Rabbi Uri broke his fifteen-year seclusion in the world of learning to begin speaking and teaching publicly once more.

What made him unique among those who returned to Torah and later inspired others was this: for fifteen full years, Rabbi Uri disappeared from the public eye. He devoted himself entirely to Torah learning, day and night, in quiet and holiness. No lectures. No interviews. No appearances. Just pure learning.

And so the light that later radiated from him was Torah light. It was the light of the Menorah, a light kindled by total dedication. As the verse says: “When you raise up the flames toward the face of the Menorah…” His light wasn’t for himself. It was meant to shine outward, to elevate others, to ignite hearts. 

Rabbi Uri and Dr. Nathan Birnbaum: Two Paths Across the Divide

Remarkably, Rabbi Uri Zohar wasn’t the first public figure to cross the line between secular Jewish fame and deep religious commitment. A hundred years earlier, there was Dr. Nathan Birnbaum, a towering intellectual force in the early Zionist world before the Holocaust.

At 19, Birnbaum had already founded a Jewish nationalist student organization in Vienna. Two years later, he began publishing a nationalist Jewish periodical titled Self-Emancipation. He was among the early Zionist movement’s founding ideologues, alongside Herzl, and coined the term Zionism itself.

Later in life, Birnbaum underwent a dramatic return to faith. He embraced Torah observance, became a thinker and activist in the Agudat Yisrael movement, and eventually served as its world secretary. He passed away in 1937, just before the Holocaust.

His return to Judaism made waves among Europe’s intellectual class, particularly youth wrestling with modern ideologies. His former colleagues knew he had once stood where they stood and now he stood elsewhere. His voice carried weight. But his influence remained largely within the religious world; it didn’t fully “cross back over” into the secular realm.

Why Rabbi Uri’s Impact Was Different

What explains the difference in impact between these two spiritual returns?

Part of it may be generational. Birnbaum lived in an era when secularism still wore the mask of idealism. In contrast, Rabbi Uri Zohar emerged from the glitzy world of modern Israeli nightlife, a world already hollow and disillusioned. In some ways, his journey back was clearer, his message easier to digest: If even Uri Zohar could change...

But there's another factor that may have deepened Rabbi Uri’s reach.

In a 1919 essay titled “From a Secular Man to a Believer”, Birnbaum described his inner struggle:

“There were moments during my secular years when something stirred within me, something that didn’t align with my beliefs. I pushed it away—harshly—seeing it as weakness. But slowly I could no longer blind myself to the truth: that modernity, once greeted with such promise, was collapsing. Its promises had turned bitter, its leaders were laughable. I came face-to-face with the only real spiritual revolution in history: the one that led man away from idols toward the one true God and with Him, back toward the world. That was the revolution of Judaism.”

His words are raw, insightful, and unflinching. And yet, as his return to faith deepened, Birnbaum grew disillusioned again, this time with the religious world itself. He began to criticize the Orthodox establishment for not living up to its spiritual potential.

Rabbi Uri Zohar: All Love, No Bitterness

This is where Rabbi Uri Zohar’s greatness shines most clearly.

There was no trace of bitterness in him, only light and love. He never rebuked the secular public, only expressed deep compassion for those who were lost. And perhaps even more striking: he never voiced criticism of the religious community either. Despite its flaws—flaws many ba’alei teshuvah are quick to point out—Rabbi Uri chose humility. 

And that too was part of his greatness. His light didn’t dim with disappointment. It continued to shine and glow with Torah, to radiate warmth and kindness, and to illuminate the hearts of Jews across every sector of society.