Yosef Yitzchak Gershon learned it’s never too late to shake off the past

By Yosef Yitzchak Gershon as related to Barbara Bensoussan

Yosef Yitzchak Gershon went from perfecting his tennis serve to serving time, but along the way he learned that only Torah holds the key to real healing and peace, and that it’s never too late to shake off the past

IFyou saw me today, in traditional chassidic garb on Shabbos, or on the tennis courts teaching or playing in tournaments during the week, you’d never guess that I was once on the most-wanted list of Broward County criminals in Florida and spent months in prison.

The pasuk in Hallel, “He raises the poor from the dust, and the needy from the garbage heap,” resonates with me deeply. Hashem pulled me from the muck of substance abuse and criminal behavior and raised me to where I am now, living life as a frum Yid, happily married and blessed with children.

For a long time, I wanted desperately to simply run as far as possible from the sordid parts of my past. Yet I learned the hard way that our shadows follow us no matter where we go, and the only way to go forward is to face our mistakes head-on. I’ve learned to draw strength from knowing that Hashem’s love is boundless, even for those who have strayed very far. But let’s start at the beginning.

Self-Destruction

My parents’ marriage was destined for challenges from the start:  She was American, he was Israeli, and their perspectives on many things diverged. Still, despite their different backgrounds and lack of Torah education in their early years, they both did their best to raise us.

My father threw himself into everything he did with passion. He had a deep love for tennis, and when he saw that we kids showed promise, he was determined to cultivate it. He decided we would move to Florida, with its year-round good weather and many tennis academies, to give us our best shot at success. When my sister and I started winning tournaments, he took us out of school and arranged for us to be homeschooled to leave us more time for practice.

This promising future took a dive when my parents’ marriage fell apart. I was about 15, and I took it hard. I started rebelling and drowning my pain in reckless activities like driving my dad’s V8 Cadillac down the highway at 115 miles per hour. I was getting speeding tickets every week and blew two engines, but I relished the negative attention.

As my parents navigated their personal challenges, I went to spend the summer with my paternal grandparents in Tel Aviv. Saba and Savta have always been a strong anchor in my life, traditional Jews and straight, honest, good people. But Tel Aviv is a big city, and that summer I discovered alcohol. I met people who brought me to clubs and offered me hard liquor. Wow, I thought. This stuff takes away all the pain.