This Man Is Addressing the Tuition Crisis, One Family at a Time
13 min read
4 min read
11 min read
12 min read
A decade of addiction and grief, a trip to Israel, and a marriage transformed. One family's unlikely path to a Jewish life.
Yosef Waslow’s mother was Jewish and white. His father was Black and had been raised in a Baptist home. Growing up in Logan, a North Philadelphia neighborhood that had once been home to many Jewish families, he spent much of his childhood wondering where he belonged. Among his Black friends, he was often “the white kid.” Around white classmates, he felt like “the Black guy.”
“It was confusing,” he recalls. “I didn’t fit anywhere.”
While many children around him grew up without both parents, Yosef came home to a mother and father who loved one another deeply. “As strange as it sounds,” he says, “a healthy family felt unusual.”
Yosef and his sister
But his father carried wounds few people could imagine. Raised in an abusive home, he later served in Vietnam, recovering the bodies of fallen soldiers. Despite his own challenges, Yosef remembers him for his kindness. “He was incredibly loving.”
Yosef remembers how loss impacted his childhood. His grandmother died when he was 11. His best friend died from leukemia at around the same time, and another friend took his own life. Then, at 16, Yosef lost his father to health issues and substance abuse that were consequences of his service in Vietnam.
“It was a lot of death.” Searching for relief, he turned to alcohol.
I had my first drink at 13. I wanted more. It helped me numb my pain.
“I had my first drink at 13. I wanted more. It helped me numb my pain.”
For nearly a decade, alcohol became his escape. Relationships unraveled, trust disappeared, and eventually even the people who loved him most no longer knew how to help.
Yosef’s parents
His mother, Terry, reflects, “My kids were raised as secular Jews. My husband and I celebrated both Hanukkah and Christmas. Some of the most difficult times in my life were those in which I watched my son struggle with his inner demons.”
In August 2012, while Yosef was receiving treatment in rehab, his then-girlfriend Sonya, whom he had met that same year, spoke with his mother about what would happen after Yosef returned home.
“The only thing that can help him is God,” Sonya said. Sonya herself had grown up in a dysfunctional Evangelical household and had embarked on her own search for meaning and belonging, so she understood what it would take to fight addiction.
Yosef and Sonya dating in 2012
Already a father of two children when he met Sonya, Yosef understood the importance of his recovery. He was just 16 when he met a woman who had a son whom he later adopted. Two years later, at 18, he and his girlfriend welcomed a daughter. The relationship ended when Yosef was 20 years old, and he is involved in both children's lives.
Yosef recalls his return from rehab. “Sonya’s comment about God really hit me.” For one of the first times in his life, he tried to pray. “I asked God to help me get better. As I was praying, my young son walked into the room. The second I saw him, everything clicked. I thought, I can’t do that to him. I started over like a child.”
Yosef, age 19, with his first two kids
Looking back, he credits his wife with carrying the family while he learned how to become a husband and father again.
Recovery taught him something that would later shape his Judaism: lasting change begins with honesty.
Recovery taught him something that would later shape his Judaism: lasting change begins with honesty.
Once the noise of addiction quieted, another question emerged: Who is God?
Yosef had always believed in a Creator, but he wanted truth. He studied different religions, spoke with pastors and other religious leaders, and eventually bought a Chumash, the Five Books of Moses.
As he read the Torah, he was amazed that Jews were still living by the same commandments thousands of years later. “They were still living the same book.”
He taught himself Hebrew and, in 2014, traveled to Israel on Birthright. There, he encountered something unexpected.
“Jews who kept mitzvot were normal people I could connect to,” he says. “Just living their lives.”
He returned home with a kippah, tzitzit, a siddur, and a growing desire to learn. “When I was in Israel, I felt connected to Judaism for the first time in my life. I was not yet anywhere near observant, but my heart was awakened by that experience.”
Sonya remembers Yosef returning from that trip to Israel. “I thought I was helping him find his way,” she says. “I didn’t expect it to change everything. It was overwhelming to see him make so many changes.”
To her surprise, she started asking questions about her own journey.
Sonya, who later took the Hebrew name Nechama, shares her story:
“I grew up in a Christian home where religion was ever-present, yet it often left me with more questions than answers. My father struggled with addiction, and my mother searched tirelessly for peace and happiness, moving from church to church in the hope of finding something that finally felt right. Watching her search taught me that faith wasn’t always simple. It could be complicated, confusing, and deeply personal.
My understanding of God was wrapped in anxiety and uncertainty. I wanted answers that made sense but I was told to simply believe and not be too inquisitive.
“As a child, I was haunted by recurring nightmares. The fear was overwhelming. Instead of bringing me comfort, my understanding of God was wrapped in anxiety and uncertainty. Even then, I questioned what I was being taught. I wanted answers that made sense, but I was often told to simply believe and not be too inquisitive. As I grew older, those questions never disappeared. Eventually, I stopped practicing religion altogether. It wasn’t an act of rebellion. I simply couldn’t force myself to embrace beliefs that I wasn’t convinced were true.
“At 21, I got married. Together, we had three children, a girl and two boys. But addiction, something I had witnessed growing up, found its way back into my life. My husband became addicted to drugs, and despite my hopes that things would change, our marriage eventually ended because of his substance abuse. Years later, he passed away.
“Life moved forward, and eventually I met Yosef, who I would eventually marry. In 2015, Yosef’s sister accepted a teaching position in Israel for a year. When the opportunity came to visit her, I had no idea that the trip would change the course of my life forever.
“There was something about Israel that I cannot fully explain. Walking the land, experiencing its history, and witnessing Judaism where it was lived rather than simply described awakened something deep inside me. It wasn’t an emotional high or a passing fascination. It felt like something had been quietly waiting inside my heart for years.
“When I returned home, I tried to ignore it. I told myself it was simply the excitement of traveling. I pushed the feelings aside and tried to move on with my life. But the pull only became stronger. It became a deeply personal search for truth.
Yosef was becoming increasingly religious and I didn’t want his opinions to influence my conclusions. If I was going to make such a life-changing decision, I wanted it to be mine alone.
“I kept my studies completely hidden from my husband. By that point, he was becoming increasingly religious himself, and I didn’t want his opinions, whether supportive or opposed, to influence my conclusions. If I was going to make such a life-changing decision, I wanted it to be mine alone.
“In truth, those months were lonely. I remained silent about all my discoveries because I wanted to give myself the space and time to figure things out. The more I learned, the more I realized that this wasn’t simply an interest in another religion. I believed I had found the truth I had been searching for my entire life. Eventually, keeping it to myself became impossible.
With daughter Tikvi and her husband at their wedding
“One day in 2018, I picked up the phone and called my husband. With my heart racing, I told him the words I had been holding inside for so long: ‘I want to convert to Judaism.’
“That conversation marked the beginning of a new chapter in both my faith and my identity. Looking back, I can see that my journey didn’t begin in Israel. It began years earlier, with a little girl asking difficult questions and struggling to reconcile fear with faith, ultimately leading me to where I was meant to be.”
Yosef and Nechama shared one common fear. “We were convinced Orthodox Jews would never accept people like us.”
Instead, they found warmth, friendship, and rabbis who welcomed them without judgment. The journey wasn’t always easy, especially for their children.
“They’re amazing kids,” Yosef says. “Good Jews, good people. But they didn’t choose this the way we did.”
There were parts of the system that were difficult for them and moments when they didn’t quite fit in.
“We have a beautiful community,” he adds. “But like anywhere, there are pockets where people struggle to accept those who are so different. Both boys from Nechama’s first marriage converted with her, but my children from my prior relationship are not Jewish. Together, Nechama and I welcomed four beautiful girls.”
Yosef and Nechama at their daughter’s wedding, 2025
What kept them going was the support they found from people who showed them what practicing Judaism truly looks like when it is lived with kindness.
Yosef’s mother says, “I feel blessed to see my son live this beautiful and meaningful lifestyle. Every hug from his children and every smile on their beautiful faces reassures me that he and his lovely wife are growing and working together to add positive energy to this world.”
After the conversion, the family moved to Bensalem, a suburb of Philadelphia, and became fully integrated into the Jewish community.
Nechama shares, “We were also remarried according to Jewish law. We felt that this was so much richer and more meaningful than our first civil wedding. Our chuppah was the culmination of our journey together. The wedding happened on the day of my conversion, and there were several points during the day when we simply held each other and cried tears of joy.”
In 2019, Nechama’s daughter Gianna converted and received the Jewish name Tikvah, which means “hope” in Hebrew.
Today, Nechama says, the journey continues. “We’re building a home rooted in Torah, and we are very aware that my husband’s recovery is a daily commitment.”
My struggles taught me empathy, and my search for meaning gave me the resilience to find the truth.
When asked about the lessons he learned through the pain, addiction, loss, and searching, Yosef reflects, “My struggles taught me empathy, and my search for meaning gave me the resilience to find the truth. I have gratitude for every little thing because loss taught me to have a deep appreciation for every moment.”
Yosef often thinks about what his father would say if he could see him today.
Yosef and his family at his grandson’s bris
“I think he’d be proud,” he says. “At one point in his life, my mother told me he even wore a Star of David. I recently learned that when his family bought their home from a Jewish owner, his mother left the mezuzah up for some time. I think he’d be proud that I grew up committed to my family and my Creator. I’d just want to thank him for setting such a wonderful example.”
Recovery had taught Yosef that lasting change begins within. Jewish spiritual practices gave him a language to understand that inner work, teaching that every challenge, every experience, and every person has purpose because God guides each soul through its unique journey.
“When your life feels unmanageable, it’s very easy to say, ‘It’s because of this person,’ or ‘It’s because of my circumstances.’ Whether you’re struggling with addiction, trying to keep your business afloat, raising a family, or simply getting through life, the real question is always the same: What can I do differently? What can I change about myself?
It’s easy to blame others. It’s much harder to look inward and ask, What do I need to change?
“It’s easy to blame others. It’s much harder to look inward and ask, ‘What do I need to change?’
“There’s nothing wrong with getting help. Find someone you can talk to. Just talk to somebody. We all experience loneliness, fear, anxiety, and pressure.
“I fully believe that God gives every person the challenges they need. Some people live with physical disabilities. Some live with emotional struggles. Some face addiction. I don’t know exactly why I was given this challenge. Maybe it was so I could help someone else. Maybe it was what I needed to become the person I was meant to be.”
In 2026, the family was blessed with a major milestone when Tikvah and her husband welcomed a son.
“There are no words to describe what we felt when we gathered for our grandson’s brit. We are very blessed.”
As Yosef put it so profoundly, “A truly blessed life is the journey of every soul willing to seek truth with an open heart.”
