A Note From Maria—How a Handful of Jews Helped an Antisemitic German

By Maria Kneas

The increasing antisemitism is distressing beyond words. What really hit me hard was the day after the October 7, 2023 massacre in Israel, students at Columbia University were marching in the streets chanting “Gas the Jews!” That hit me hard. My Mom was Jewish. (Secular and non-practicing, but Jewish by blood and culture.) I was raised on stories of the Holocaust. 

Because my mother was Jewish, the rabbis say that I am Jewish. And of course, the Nazis would have considered me to be Jewish. I’ve been acutely aware of that all my life, long before I even believed in God. I became the first Christian in my family. My mother and father became Christians when they were in their sixties, and they were on fire for God for the rest of their lives.

You may have noticed that my last name is German. My husband’s grandparents came here from Germany. He was taught to despise the Jews. He knew about my Jewish background, but he ignored it because he loved me. And here is what happened—

When my husband Ray was ten years old, he made a decision never to trust anybody, starting with his mother. I’m the first person he ever trusted. In other words, the first person Ray (who was taught to be antisemitic) ever trusted was a Jew.

When Ray realized that he really could trust me, he asked me to marry him. But I was afraid to marry him because he was messed up. So he decided to get counseling. We lived in the Washington DC area, and he went to a pastoral counseling center. And he was assigned a pastor who was a rabbi. That rabbi was a God-fearing man who believed the Old Testament, loved people, and had good common sense. Ray loved that man, and he grew to really trust him. So the second person Ray trusted was not only a Jew, but he was also a rabbi.

After we got married, Ray wanted to see Clint Eastwood’s movie The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. I had no interest in anything like that. I wanted to see Fiddler on the Roof, but Ray was not interested in that. So I told Ray, “I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll watch your movie with you if you’ll watch my movie with me.” So we did that. And Ray just loved Fiddler on the Roof. He loved the people. And he especially loved Reb Tevye.

Ray was 6 foot 5. I was 5 foot 2. When we went dancing it was cheek to chest instead of being cheek to cheek. Before we saw Fiddler on the Roof, Ray never said anything about my Jewish background, or about Jews in general. But after we saw that movie, Ray put his arm around me, and looked down at me with a big smile, and he affectionately said, “My little Jewish girl!”

One day Ray told me, “I always thought religion was for old ladies and children. But Reb Tevye is a man’s man. And he talks to God like He’s real, and like He’s right there. Do you think I could do that?” I told him that he could do that. And that is how Ray started praying. Ray became a very godly man who loved Jesus Christ. And he just loved the Bible. He devoured it, and we had many discussions about it.

Sadly, I became a widow at the age of 36 when Ray at 35 died of a massive heart attack. But I know I will see him again because he turned from being an antisemitic unbeliever to a born-again man who loved the Lord and loved the Jewish people. And it was a handful of Jews who helped him find his way.

 I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.—Jesus (John 11:25)