I am Elazar Yeshua Ben Anner, 74 years old, and have served as a rabbi for over 50 years. Never in my life did I believe that Jesus was the Messiah. Over the decades, I debated this point with thousands of people.
However, an event on December 25th, 2023—a near-death experience after a car accident—transformed my life entirely. Let me introduce myself. I come from a deeply rooted Jewish family, descendants of the Levites responsible for serving in the temple.
From a young age, I felt the weight of this sacred duty and was raised accordingly. After completing my Yeshiva education, my faith led me to Israel, where I lived for many years and where my son was born in Jerusalem. Those years solidified my Jewish identity and my conviction in awaiting the coming of the Messiah.
For me, Judaism was more than tradition; it was an intrinsic part of who I was. Throughout my life, I tried to live in a way that reflected my devotion to God. However, on December 25th, 2023, an event challenged the foundations of my faith and illuminated a new path.
That day started as an ordinary one—the kind of day that should have ended peacefully. It was cold, and I was driving home just a few kilometers away. The car in front of me suddenly braked.
I reacted, but the icy road caused me to lose control, crashing into another vehicle. A sudden impact, a deafening silence, and then everything went dark. When I regained awareness, I found myself in a completely unfamiliar place.
At first, I thought I was dreaming, but this was no dream. The air was oppressive and heavy, and an overwhelming darkness surrounded me—a darkness so profound it felt tangible, woven with despair and regret. At first, I couldn't understand where I was; my body felt disconnected from reality, and I was consumed by confusion.
It wasn't long before I realized this wasn't a dream. The truth sank in as I heard the wails—heartbreaking cries, whispers full of anger and sorrow. Each voice carried the weight of a soul's eternal torment.
Then I began to fall—slowly, steadily—into what felt like an endless abyss. As I descended, shapes and forms started to materialize in the darkness. What I saw was more horrifying than any description of hell I had ever encountered in religious texts.
Massive, grotesque figures emerged, blending into the living walls of what I initially thought was a cavern. But these walls pulsated as though alive, and I realized they were made of flesh. Faces trapped within the wall screamed silently, their expressions frozen in agony.
Something invisible was pulling me deeper, dragging me down into an infinite void. But this void wasn't empty; it was filled with anger, suffering, and remorse. Every scream, every moan pierced through me, pulling me further into a reality I couldn't escape.
Among the tortured faces, I saw familiar ones—respected rabbis and teachers who had guided my spiritual growth. Seeing their anguish in this place was both shocking and devastating. If these were men I had revered, what hope was there for me?
In that instant, I knew with certainty this was hell. When my descent stopped, the full extent of my surroundings became clear. I stood in an unending landscape of fiery valleys, with flames twisting and roaring like living entities.
The heat enveloped me, not just physically but spiritually, searing my very soul. These valleys teemed with shadowy figures—beings neither human nor animal. They writhed in agony, their distorted forms a reflection of tormented souls.
Their screams filled the air, each cry revealing another layer of pain and regret. I noticed several prominent rabbis among the suffering—men who had dedicated their lives to God and who had taught me how to interpret sacred texts. Yet here they were, chained in the depths of hell.
Seeing them in this state shattered everything I thought I understood about righteousness and faith. This was only the beginning of the revelations that would change my understanding of life, death, and faith forever. As I approached, their faces became clearer, the anguish etched on their expressions undeniable.
Recognizing them as the wise individuals I had once respected shattered me. One rabbi's face stood out—a man who had been my mentor since childhood, teaching me the scriptures in Yeshiva. But now his face reflected only despair and regret.
I stepped closer, desperate to ask, "Why are you here? How is this possible? " Before I could speak, one of them began to talk, his voice raspy and heavy with sorrow.
"We were wrong. God's Messiah came, but we rejected him. We didn't see; we were blind.
" Another voice joined in, "We didn't understand God's plan. We clung to the law but refused the Redeemer He sent. We were blind.
" Their words echoed, breaking something deep within me. The foundation of my beliefs—everything I had devoted myself to without question—crumbled under the weight of these confessions. If these men whom I had revered were here, then what was God's truth?
In the depths of despair, surrounded by the oppressive darkness of hell, a sudden beam of light pierced through the void. At first, it appeared as a tiny point in the distance, but it grew, flooding everything with its radiance. This light tore through the suffocating shadows, dispelling the oppressive gloom that had enveloped me.
Its purity was overwhelming. Though I squinted against its brightness, it didn't bring pain—only a profound sense of peace. As I tried to focus on the source of the light, a figure emerged.
Instantly, I knew this was no ordinary being. His presence transcended human comprehension; his face radiated brilliance, yet there was an unmistakable tenderness in his expression. Waves.
. . of Serenity seemed to emanate from him, reaching the depths of my soul.
He took a step closer, fixing his gaze on me. In that moment, I felt utterly seen; without words, I knew he understood every detail of my life: my fears, regrets, and the weight I had carried for decades. Tears began to stream down my face, unbidden.
Finally, he spoke; his voice was unlike any I had ever heard: rich, warm, and commanding all at once. "I have come to show you the truth. I called you, but you did not listen.
Today, I revealed what you refuse to see. I am here to save you and make you a light to your people. " His words pierced through me, forcing me to confront the entirety of my life: my dedication to God, my years in Yeshiva, and my quest for holiness in Israel.
All of it flashed before me. Yet I also remembered the emptiness I often felt despite my efforts. For all my striving, I had never felt close to God in the way I had hoped.
The figure stepped closer, extending his hand toward me. "Listen to me," he said. "Salvation doesn't come from your efforts; it comes through me.
God loves you and sent me to save you, but the choice is yours to make. " His words reverberated in my mind. I had spent my life trying to please God, never realizing that his love was already mine.
Now, standing before this figure, I felt the weight of my regrets and mistakes dissolve in the light of his presence. Doubt crept in for a moment. "What if I don't accept this?
" The thought echoed in my mind, but as if reading my heart, he continued, "This darkness you see, it is the result of pride and your own choices. But I can lead you out of here. Not only will I save you, but I will give you a purpose.
You will be a light to your people and show them the way. " In that moment, I realized a decision lay before me. I could remain in this darkness, lost in eternal regret, or I could surrender myself completely to God and embrace the second chance offered to me.
My hands trembled as I hesitated to take his outstretched hand. Through tears, I whispered, "What must I do? " "Believe in me," he said.
"Let go of your burdens. Salvation is not in your hands; it is my gift to you. I am here to set you free.
" His words brought an overwhelming wave of peace. Slowly, I reached out and took his hand. Instantly, everything changed.
The screams of hell faded, the darkness evaporated, and the oppressive weight on my soul was lifted. For the first time, I felt truly free, standing at the threshold of a new path—a life in faith that would transform everything I had ever known. When I opened my eyes, a blinding white light greeted me, but it wasn't the divine light that had torn through hell; instead, it was the fluorescent glare of hospital ceiling lights.
Slowly, reality came into focus: the faint hum of monitors, the voices of doctors, the sterile smell of antiseptic. I had survived the crash. Physically, I felt intact, but my soul bore the weight of what I had witnessed: the cries from hell, the sorrow of the rabbis, and most profoundly, the words of Jesus reverberated through my mind.
Everything had changed. Lying in that hospital bed, I replayed every moment of what I had experienced. Was this salvation, or would that darkness return?
I had been saved by the light of Jesus, but now what? What was I supposed to do? My past clung to me like a shadow; memories of my years in Yeshiva, the teachings of the rabbis, and my lifelong dedication to living according to God's laws flooded my mind.
This identity had defined me. My family, my mentors, and my community all depended on it. To question my beliefs now would mean betraying everything I'd ever known and becoming an outcast in the eyes of those I held dear.
Yet the truth revealed by Jesus stood before me like an unshakable mountain. His words echoed in my heart: "I came to save you and make you a light to your people. " How could I ignore something so profound?
I found myself caught in a spiritual storm, torn between my past beliefs and the undeniable reality of what I had seen and felt. The clarity of the truth was overwhelming, yet choosing a path forward felt impossibly difficult. I asked myself: If Jesus is truly the Messiah, was my entire life a lie?
Or is this the full fulfillment of everything I've ever known? These questions looped endlessly in my mind that day as I lay in the hospital bed. I couldn't reach a conclusion, but one thing was certain: these questions demanded answers.
This experience wasn't just an accident or a hallucination; it was a reality that had shaken my soul. I couldn't ignore it, so I made two decisions. First, I would revisit my old beliefs with an open mind.
Second, I would begin to study who Jesus truly was. I was at a crossroads, and there was no turning back. After being discharged from the hospital, the haunting memories of what I had seen and heard in hell followed me everywhere.
The cries of the rabbis and Jesus' words played over and over in my mind. The teachings of my lifelong mentor, Rabbi Avner, now felt like both a foundation and a weight. I was caught between his wisdom and this newfound truth that demanded my attention.
Rabbi Avner had guided me through the sacred texts, shaping my understanding of God's law and our service to the Jewish people. His teachings were the cornerstone of my life, yet the truths I had witnessed in hell and Jesus' words compelled me to seek something more. Beyond what I had always known, one dusty book kept surfacing in my mind: the New Testament.
In my years at Yeshiva, it had been taboo, an untouchable text, but now it felt unavoidable. Hesitantly, I picked it up and opened to the first page. The words I read struck me deeply: "This is the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the Son of David.
" Those words shattered a mental barrier. I remembered something Rabbi Abner had taught me long ago: the Messiah would come from the line of David. But the idea that this Messiah could be Jesus had never crossed my mind.
Now, the evidence was staring me in the face. As I read further, I realized that Jesus' teachings, actions, and words reflected the sacred texts I had studied in Yeshiva. The echoes were undeniable.
The Messiah's call to salvation felt deeply personal. For years, I had relied on my own efforts to draw near to God, only to now learn that God had already done everything necessary and offered salvation as a gift. This journey forced me to re-evaluate not just my past, but also my future.
While I wanted to honor Rabbi Abner's teachings, it became clear that God was leading me down a new path. This was not just an intellectual challenge, but a spiritual awakening. The truth was laid bare before me, and I realized I had no choice but to follow it.
Despite the turmoil and struggles, I chose to walk the path Jesus had shown me. It wasn't an easy decision; it required me to reshape not just my beliefs, but also the core of my identity. However, the truth I found in Jesus' light was worth every sacrifice.
For the first time, I could see the purpose of my life with clarity. God had not only saved me, but also called me to be a vessel for His message to my people and beyond. This was not just a message for the Jewish people; it was a message of salvation for all humanity.
This new journey brought me a profound sense of peace and a deeper awareness of God's love. All my life, I had strived to be closer to Him, but now I understood that He had already accepted me. That realization became the light guiding my every step and the reason I woke up each morning.
Sharing Jesus' message of salvation is now my life's mission. It's a path that honors my past while shaping my future. I am committed to dedicating the rest of my life to spreading this truth, confident that it is part of God's plan for me.
This is my new beginning. I am no longer just a Levite; I am a witness to God's love and salvation. This journey has not only saved my soul, but has also given my life its true purpose.
