More Than Miracles. Ben Volman

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 years after his departure. The Toronto Presbytery noted his “faithful, earnest, successful and, we venture to think, unique service on behalf of Israel in Toronto, and other points in Canada…We therefore heartily record our appreciation of the remarkable success which has attended the ministry of Mr. Rohold.”⁹ Without him, the home mission board was uncertain about the future of the institute, and there were changes coming, marked by the growing divisions in the church.

      ***

      As a budding “theolog” at Knox, Morris was keenly aware of the vision promoted by progressive Presbyterians, including his professors and the principal, Rev. Dr. Alfred Gandier. Decades earlier, as rural settlements across Western Canada followed the expanding railways, Canada’s large Protestant denominations—Methodists, Congregationalists and Presbyterians—unified their plans of expansion. Rather than build three churches in every prairie hamlet, they pooled their efforts to allow each settlement to form a single assembly supported by all three denominations. By 1904, the model formed in the west led church leaders to explore a dynamic vision for Canada in the 20th century—a national denomination merged into a “United Church.” After years of debate, a 1924 Act of Parliament allowed them to proceed, setting the date for union on June 10, 1925.

      As the deadline loomed, each local Presbyterian congregation voted independently on whether or not to join the union. The process went on over several months, and sizable factions opposed the merger. Morris and Annie followed the fierce debates very closely under the critical eye of Dr. Pidgeon at Bloor Street Presbyterian, who became the first moderator of the United Church. The Methodist and Congregational denominations entered the alliance with almost no assemblies dissenting. In contrast, almost a third (30 percent) of Presbyterian churches voted no. They formed a continuing denomination despite the bitter prospect of court battles over property, even over the church name.

      Morris’s choice to remain Presbyterian “required a certain amount of firm determination and faith,” according to the biography written by his son Alex. The resolve came “out of loyalty to the Church that had led him to Christ and to people who, like Dr. Scott had befriended him.”¹⁰ Nevertheless, the decision led to some painfully awkward situations. During his last year at Knox, the students and faculty on both sides—United Church and continuing Presbyterians—shared the college, until another seminary was built for the new denomination. Every day Morris endured the withering gaze of former teachers and classmates.

      There had already been some frustrating shifts in the ministry of the Scott Institute. With Rohold gone, the presbytery tried to widen the scope of services with an “all nations” approach. The strategy stalled as few of the immigrant groups felt vested in the facility, while those who were actively using the building began to repel each other. Adding to the confusion was the pending question of which denomination would eventually own the site.

      As graduation neared, Morris pondered his future. He’d been serving at the Institute for over a decade. It was an era when graduates were placed by the national church office after convocation. There was the possibility of receiving a call elsewhere, perhaps on a rustic charge in a frontier region. His future, though, was predetermined. He was appointed to lead the Scott Institute as superintendent of the Jewish Mission.

      After the wedding, Morris and Annie headed east to New Brunswick. A leisurely two months were spent doing ministry in picturesque St. Andrews by the Sea on the Bay of Fundy. Six months later, the courts confirmed that the Presbyterian Church owned 165 Elizabeth St.

      Together, Morris and Annie began taking the work in hand, refocusing attention on Jewish ministry, though Mission attendance had fallen to its lowest ebb. Years later, Annie told an interviewer that their first meeting at the Mission brought out “five Jewish people and a dog.” Having overcome so many obstacles, they might well have thought that the worst was behind them. Indeed, they were briefly entering a period of stability and calm. Briefly.

      Daniel

      By Elaine Z. Markovic

      Soft light sifted through the iron grating above.

      Glowing amber eyes watched me.

      Padded feet paced nervously.

      And then, the angel came.

      As I stood trembling,

      Those captive creatures stretched,

      Lay down, relaxed and slept.

      Chapter 4: The Soup Kitchen Years

      Long before most people in Toronto were aware of the Great Depression, it came knocking