In 1895, a series of meetings was held in the Christian Church at Dayton. I stood proudly before that audience of professing Christians and told them why I was a Jew and would not believe in their Christ as my Messiah and Saviour. I gloried in Reformed Judaism that acknowledged no need of an atoning sacrifice for sin. In the audience sat a humble aged woman, a devout Christian, who was deeply stirred as she listened. “O God,” she prayed, “bring Dr. Wertheimer to realize his utter need of that Saviour he so boastingly rejects.” No doubt others prayed the same prayer.

What unforeseen forces were brought into action, as a result of that unknown woman’s heart-cry! I was perfectly satisfied with life that day, was a Jewish orthodox rabbi of the B’nai Yeshorun Synagogue, had a beautiful home, a comfortable income, a place of prominence in the community, had become an honorary member of the Ministerial Association, had you visited my library at that time you would have found a wide range of reading. We had a large home, two servants, a beautiful baby boy and a daughter, Rose.

Suddenly there came a change! My wife was taken seriously ill and in spite of many physicians and specialists, she died, leaving me a distraught widower with two little children. My dreams of a successful career and serene domestic life were all shattered. Where was comfort to be found? The heaven seemed brass when I called on the God of my fathers! How could I speak, as an orthodox rabbi, words of comfort to others when my own sorrow had brought me to despair? The tenth year of my rabbinical office drew to its close. I decided not to accept re-election, and resigned. I wanted to think things over. I would study! I would turn to my Bible!