legacy to Scott’s inspirational vision and commitment to bless the Jewish people.
The last page of Rohold’s 1918 book, Missions to the Jews, has a photo of Morris in his full Boy Scout leader’s uniform, surrounded by young men from the mission’s Scout troop. Without referring to him directly, the closing paragraphs are written with a prescient faith:
During the past ten years we have sought by every means possible to reconcile Israel with their Messiah, their only and brightest hope. We turn from the past to the unknown future in perfect confidence that He will continue to bless us.1
That picture would have meant a great deal to Morris; after all, he was probably leading this same group of boys when he first met the interesting Miss Martin.
***
There are numerous sepia-toned pictures of Morris and Annie from the early years of the 20th century showing their mutual affection. One of Elaine’s favourite photos has the pair in matching “Ivy League” jackets and ties. It was, as she would confide, “a love match,” despite a rather rocky start. Yes, they did maintain a certain Victorian decorum, but they always called each other “dear,” and in front of the children Annie called him “Zeidy,” a youthful nickname. (Another affectionate name—“Zeidle”—shows up in his correspondence.2)
It’s hard to know exactly how the ice melted, but Annie eventually severed the relationship with her original beau. (Family lore says that he didn’t take the news very well.) The years immediately ahead brought a series of tests to help forge their persevering faith and mutual trust. Those qualities would shape the character of their relationship and form the bedrock of an effective ministry.
After graduating from night school, Morris entered the University of Toronto around 1919, the year when his name first appears on the Mission payroll. In a fragment of a report to Scott’s committee dated that year,3 Rohold affirmed his protégé’s potential as a ministry leader:
Mr. Zeidman has done wonderfully well since I am away. He is sound in his message and as a young man, is remarkably good in ability, earnestness and zeal, and we ought to encourage him in every way possible.4
Morris studied for three years at University College, earning a degree in Honours Orientals. (Hebrew and Arabic classes were less of a problem than English: final grade, 40 percent.) In the fall of 1921 he entered the Presbyterian seminary, Knox College, and academics were not his most daunting problem. He’d overcome challenges that would have discouraged anyone less convinced of God’s call on his life.
Morris’s father in Poland had passed away in the years following the war. With so many unresolved differences between them, the feelings of grief would have been deeply felt. The sudden death in 1920 of his fatherly mentor, Dr. Scott, was another tragic personal loss. None of this could be read in his demeanor. Student friends remembered Morris as a cheerful colleague, an unfailing optimist.
He needed that positive attitude to cope with a growing number of health issues. Not too long after his baptism, Morris’s appendix was removed; then he was diagnosed with an intestinal problem, a so-called “tuberculosis of the bowel,” the term used for a persisting colitis. The disease wasn’t well understood for much of his life, and he endured regular painful flare-ups. When some old acquaintances said that he was under divine judgment, Morris ignored them.
Early in his second year at Knox there were new complications. During an operation to remove his adenoids, a blood vessel was accidentally severed. With his life hanging in the balance, friends and classmates rallied around him in prayer, anxious to do more. Fortunately, one had his rare blood type: Hugh Macmillan, future missionary to China and Formosa (Taiwan), who would become a lifelong friend. Years later, Morris would joke about being born Jewish but having “pure Scottish blood” flowing in his veins. Macmillan also made much of the story. While overseas, he described the transfusion to his Chinese audiences as a graphic illustration of receiving new life in Jesus by the grace of God. After returning to Canada, Rev. Macmillan had a distinguished pulpit career and served as moderator for the Presbyterian Church in Canada.
In the anxious days of waiting for news from the hospital, Miss Macdonald, a beloved elderly prayer warrior, spoke with assurance that Morris would indeed be healed, “but he would have to tread softly for the rest of his days.” Her words proved true. Complications from colitis would reoccur for the rest of his life, though Morris rarely gave himself the luxury of slowing down. An extended recuperation took place north of Toronto in the town of Hillsburgh. Years later, he would return to the same area to relocate the new Mission’s summer camp program.
While Morris was ill, his younger sister, Gitel—later known as Gertrude—arrived from Poland. Morris had sponsored her immigration and saved up to pay for her passage to Canada. She was only 14 years old, and she eventually settled in with the family of his New Testament professor, William Manson. Her affectionate relationship with the Mansons could have ended when Dr. Manson received a faculty appointment to Edinburgh University. Instead, she was officially adopted and moved with them to Scotland.5
Annie had her own share of complications. Her father didn’t restrain his anger at her Jewish suitor, and there were unmerciful tirades. As the marriage plans were finalized, she took refuge in the home of a sympathetic local family. The painful rift between father and daughter never healed. William Martin’s sudden death in Scotland a few years later was a shocking loss.
Just as Morris was entering his studies at Knox, Ben Rohold was invited to take on a new work in Palestine in an undeveloped area of the port city Haifa, at the foot of Mt. Carmel. He corresponded with numerous colleagues for many months before he finally accepted. Reluctant to leave one of the leading positions in North America, he had important reasons to consider the offer. The new British mandate was supposed to be laying groundwork for the Jewish state promised in the 1917 Balfour Declaration. His extraordinary managerial gifts and languages, combined with an extensive knowledge of both the British and Middle East cultures, made him uniquely capable of assisting in the restoration of a new Jewish homeland.
Rev. and Mrs. Rohold had been promised a functional mission property in Haifa on what was later to become HaGefen Street. Unfortunately, as Rohold explained in a long letter to Morris, they arrived to find horrendous living conditions. Months were spent working on the buildings while they lived out of two miserable cellar rooms. They endured as always and eventually planted a highly effective work with a medical clinic and reading room ministry, similar to the one developed in Toronto. Over the next decade, Rohold became highly esteemed in the region, often representing the interests of the Jewish community to the British authorities. He worked diligently to forge ties with the local Greek church authorities and even acted as a mediator for Moslem and Druse villagers. At the founding of Hebrew University in Jerusalem, Rohold was an invited guest.6
Their 1926 wedding was almost certainly Morris and Annie’s last meeting with the mentor who’d been so important in their lives. In 1929, Rohold became quite ill, until his care required a move to a sanatorium in Egypt, where he died on February 14, 1931. He lies buried in the British Protestant cemetery in Old Cairo.7 Belle—by then she was known as Bella—could have returned to Canada, but she proved to be as resilient in her calling as her husband. Mrs. Rohold led the HaGefen Street Medical Mission with admirable efficiency, especially during the critical post-war years, when Jewish refugees flooded in from Europe with extensive medical needs. Bella Rohold died in 1960 and lies buried in the city of Haifa, which honoured the mission in 1977 for its assistance and support of Holocaust survivors.8
Ben Rohold’s departure from Toronto was received with a genuine outpouring of affection. He had not only done a remarkable work in Toronto, establishing a strong outreach with its own congregation; he also helped to establish a mission in Winnipeg. Both ministries would bear fruit for many
