Baruch Goldstein
(1948 - 2008)

One day I was walking out of a bookstore in Greenwich Village in NYC and I heard a voice speaking to me. I turned and there was a gorilla, or rather, Baruch Goldstein disguised as a gorilla. He had rented a gorilla suit like they use in the jungle movies and he was handing out Jews for Jesus tracts in Greenwich Village. He said, "Would you like one, Phil." I said, "Sure, Baruch. You don't fool me. I'd know you anywhere!" I always loved him and always saw him as my friend. Thank God for his salvation and his wonderful ministry that touched countless lives. No one was like him. No one will ever be like him.

For a dear brother…

Baruch was both a blessing and a catalyst in my life and ministry. The two of us couldn’t be more different. “Your nickname was Gentle Ben,” he once kidded me, adding, “people had other words to describe me.” Well, here are a few words that come to mind when I remember Baruch: dedicated, fiercely loyal, determined, faithful and awfully funny.

During my first assignment in NYC, I saw the incredible focus that allowed him to accomplish goals with single-minded intensity. Like so many, I was in awe of his incredible capacity to motivate and direct the skills and talents of believers. One time during a NYC campaign I heard him speak on Nehemiah3: 20 “Next to him, Baruch son of Zabbai zealously repaired another section, from the angle to the entrance of the house of Eliashib the high priest.” (The KJV says he’s “earnestly” making repairs.) Baruch projected himself into the text, imagining this Baruch, like himself, resolved to do his part; and then urged us to rebuild the spiritual walls of a new Jerusalem.

There’s another story that I think Baruch would want me to tell. In the early 90’s I stepped out of ministry—feeling burned out and deeply aware (as I had once been so sure of my calling) that my time as a congregational planter had ended. I had to stop and regroup. When I shared that decision with him, confidentially saying that I felt this was the best decision for my wife and young child, he replied, “I got that advice years ago…But what would I do for a living?” Looking back, I wonder what would have happened if this man, who knew how to appear so strong and invincible (like too many fallen brothers and sisters) had taken the “time apart” that he needed.
But I also thank God for the impact that he had on my life and on others who seized hold of his courage and vision—and at a later time we had such an assured and loving relationship that when he was lying in a hospital bed he made sure to connect with me by phone to say that I was still in his thoughts and to hear that he was still lovingly in mine.
I’m sure, Baruch, you fully grasp Paul’s words: “I press on to take hold of that for which Messiah Yeshua took hold of me. … Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Messiah Yeshua.” (Phil. 3: 12-14)
That’s your message, “look heavenward.” I know we’ll embrace again on a distant shore. I’ll look into your face and see peace in your eyes along and that sly little smile. Until then, shalom.

I only learned of Baruch's passing this evening, in an email from another old friend of mine who's been "catching me up" on news of my past JFJ colleagues & co-workers. I am deeply shocked, as I had really not kept in touch, so I knew nothing of his illness, either. It hurts that I got no chance to express my gratitude to Baruch, or even be helpful in any way during his last days and years on earth. But I rejoice as I picture him in heaven, happily making jokes, playing gentle pranks, and looking down on the rest of us with love. And laughing at the knowledge that he's gotten to a perfect place while we're all just running around, living our less-than-perfect lives. I can almost hear the glee in his voice, calling down to friends and family, that we don't know what we're missing...
I cannot begin to express the ways in which Baruch touched my life, and my walk with the Lord, but it is enough to say that his memory is indelibly imprinted, almost since the moment of my salvation. This world and I shall miss his presence immensely, and I send my sincerest wishes for comfort to his family and close friends. There is, was, and can only be one Baruch Goldstein, and heaven is, of course, all the richer for it. As we all were for knowing you.

Susan (aka: Shayna) Turner-Lelin

a tribute from his daughters

Rachel reads - I remember mornings with dad sitting at the table with a cup of coffee brewed, his mug placed on the round coffee warmer and next to it was the Ryrie study bible open and a stack of postcards next to it.


Liz reads - I remember mornings when he came back from a run all sweaty and proud that he had ‘kept up with the boys’ with his Cadence music blasting through the earphones. The “SWEAT MONSTER” would always try to hug us and we thought it was gross and run away.


Rachel reads - I remember mornings when the sound of ‘sitting on the dock of the bay’ would blast on the stereo, playing on an old record to try to wake up the girls who had slept too long. A blender full of eggs and left over French fries had made its way to the skillet for a Goldstein omelet.

Liz reads - Driving was always interesting. Mo-town or smooth jazz or whatever else HE wanted to listen to was playing in the car. At stoplights he would always drummed and SLIIIIIIDE on the dash. He still drove like a NYC taxi cab driver and making it to our destination was an adventure.

Rachel reads - It was no secret that he was a prankster and we either fell victim to his pranks or played the straight man and watched others fall. When Liz would invite friends to sleep over a sure way to induct Liz’s new friends to the Goldstein ways was the “Dad’s missing a finger and they don’t know it” gag. After comparing palm sizes, Liz would step away and dad would switch hands, holding the left one up, which was minus one finger. Unsuspectingly, they would mirror that image and following the realizations that something was wrong, there would be screams and quick dashing away.

Liz reads - We moved from the city to a suburb, traded an apartment for a house with a backyard and the promise of a clubhouse. A couple nails went into a couple boards and soon that clubhouse idea was traded in and a nylon tent was bought. Rachel had a sleepover in the tent and giggles and flashlights were the perfect set up. Rachel’s friend had just finished telling a scary story and though the details are fuzzy, there were killer squirrels. With stealth and agility, a stick in hand, he started poking the tent from underneath and on the sides. The screams were the stuff movies are made of and the delight of my dad’s heart.


Rachel reads - You got to admit, he had a store of patience for the right moments. Mom had just finished tucking Little Elizabeth in bed. Living next to a ravine often brought little furry friends scurrying around the house. Hearing small scratches in the room wasn’t cause for much alarm but on this particular night the scratching was more persistent and localized.

After some time, little Elizabeth got out of bed, turned on the light and looked around her room. Upon opening her closet door, she discovered her father sitting on the floor with a propeller beanie on his head, looking up at her with a huge smile.


Liz reads - Fast forwarding a few years, now with 2 grown daughters living in New York City. Having taught us his Goldstein ways, with a wealth of quotable movie lines and music, a love for NY food (bagels, Chinese, and Zabaars) and the Bronx bombers. With a recent visit to NYC and he had tickets in one hand and his cane in the other, we climbed into our stadium seats. It happened to be against the Blue Jays and we think we embarrassed him when we sang the Canadian national anthem as loud as we could. However, throughout the game Dad kept taking his teeth out to give us a big half toothy grins to which we replied, “Dad, put your teeth back in.” He would put his teeth back in, satisfied with our embarrassment… only to replay the scene again in a couple minutes.

Rachel reads - Dad taught us a lot. He taught us to be bold, to be smart, to be witty, to have chutzpah, to laugh at ourselves and to laugh with others. He gave us a lot of street smarts and to think big and to not take no for an answer. There are numerous movies and songs and foods and places that will always remind us of him. We have the family whistle that, even though he lost, it will always be the way we find each other in crowded places.

Liz reads - Thank you all for coming and being with us during this hard and very strange time. It is very obvious to us that somebody is missing. Many of you are uncles and aunts of this extended family. We also want to thank and acknowledge Raye for your amazing dedication, care and love you gave to our father during these last years. Thank you isn’t enough.

Rachel reads - Dad gave us something special. Early on, he taught us to love the Lord and serve him. His actions and desire to see people come into a relationship with the Messiah served as our role model. Without this, we would not be where we are today, with our own heart’s desire and prayer to see Israel saved while serving the Lord full time with Jews for Jesus and Chosen People Ministries. Can we all agree that this is one of his greatest accomplishments?

Words from Moishe Rosen

Baruch was a lot more to me than a friend or a co-worker. Our life together was like an adventure. He made me feel like we were characters in an Our Gang comedy. Both of us loved mischief. Not the malicious kind of mischief, but, well, let me illustrate it:

I was invited to the Jesus Joy Festival to be held on Labor Day of 1972. Baruch wanted to go, and he arranged with the military air transport to meet me in New York.

The Jesus Joy Festival gave us two rooms, because I said that he was my bodyguard. And it was credible that I needed a bodyguard, because the Jewish Press came out with a front-page article that was designed to stir people up. It said, “All Jewish organizations have forbidden their membership to attend the Jesus Joy Festival to be held in Madison Square Garden. An apostate who calls himself is the keynote speaker.”

Actually, I was supposed to give a ten-minute testimony. But as a result, there arose a clamor, and the Jewish Defense League got busy, and so it was credible that I needed a bodyguard.

But what we did—we took the mattresses off the beds, and we had other people move in with us: Dan Rigny, Stuart Dauermann, Bruce Skoropinski. And we all had denim jackets that said “Jews for Jesus” on them. Well, we all knew how to stand up straight, so we looked kind of revolutionary.

But the rooms at the Sheraton Hotel were on the 35th side of the street. So we took our broadsides, and Baruch and I folded them into paper airplanes and would sail them one at a time out the window, and they floated down like the leaf at the beginning of the movie Forrest Gump. And lo and behold! Most of the time they were picked up by people.

Baruch told me that he had been a cab driver in New York, which I found—well, shall we say, a bit exaggerated, because when I wanted to drive down to Greenwich Village, he ended up parking by the Holland Tunnel. I knew the geography of New York a little better than that, and he said, “It’s just a nice walk. I thought that you would enjoy the walk.” Well, we made quite a hike.

There was so much publicity. We did all kinds of interviews with all of the New York newspapers, because no one had ever heard of anyone whom “all Jewish organizations forbad their membership to attend.” When the time came for me to speak, I stood up. Baruch stood at my right with crossed arms, and Stuart Dauermann at my left, and they tried to look tough.

Baruch was like me. We both took the Gospel seriously, but we never took ourselves very seriously.

He wanted to do the Jews for Jesus work, but he wanted to stay a volunteer, feeling that his veteran’s pension was quite enough. But when he was assigned to Miami, I had to insist that he take a salary. He said, “But why?” I said, “Because. If you take a salary from Jews for Jesus, then I get to be the boss.” He said, “That’s just what I was afraid of.”

Where ever Baruch lived, it became a commune. He always had other Jews for Jesus to come and live with him. In the course of his ministry, he was an effective evangelist. Before he became my son-in-law, Alan Bond moved into Baruch’s little commune, and it was Baruch who led my son-in-law to the Lord.

Or I think of someone like Steve Wertheim: With Jews for Jesus, we always had teamwork, and Baruch led Steve Wertheim to the Lord. I don’t know if it was Steve’s father or brother who came to the Lord next, but eventually, all of the Wertheims came to faith in Christ.

From time to time, we would take offerings. Sometimes, a brother needed a car repaired, or a sister needed an airplane ticket, and the most generous check would be from Baruch. I could pretty much count on it.

He was a person who made others smile. If you see a strange paper airplane floating down from Heaven, and you open it up, and find that it’s a Jews for Jesus tract, you’re probably hearing from Baruch, and God is enjoying Baruch’s “mischief.” And I guess the paper airplane made of a tract is just Baruch’s way of telling us that he made it.