From Neo-Nazi Leader to Devout Jew: The Incredible Journey of Jonathan Langer

After about forty minutes of conversation with Jonathan Langer, a surreal moment arose where, for a split second, I wasn't sure who I was speaking with: Jonathan, the Jew, or Lutz, the former German neo-Nazi. This confusion came after Jonathan admitted that he still fears his past self.

Jonathan is 38, with light eyes and graying hair at the temples. His youthful appearance is complemented by a black kippah atop his head, a visible *tzitzit* beneath his black T-shirt, and well-developed arm muscles. Walking the streets of Tel Aviv, he blends in with the vibrant diversity of the city's bustling atmosphere. Yet beneath this exterior lies an improbable and almost unimaginable story: a young German neo-Nazi who chose to convert to Judaism and settle in Israel.

Jonathan starts his morning ritual at a small synagogue on Lilienblum Street, not far from his home, at 6:30 a.m. He acts as gabbai in this youthful minyan, opening and closing the ark and ensuring the Torah scrolls are prepared for weekday and Shabbat readings. In the past year, he has also become certified as a *sofer* (scribe), dedicating daily time to writing.

When we settle down for a chat, he declines instant coffee, opting for a strong Turkish brew, explaining he's still in a meat phase. Despite more than 15 years since embarking on his journey to Judaism and five years post-conversion, Jonathan remains wary of who he was when he led an anti-Semitic neo-Nazi group in Berlin as Lutz.

"I know and feel that since I embraced my Jewish soul, Lutz no longer exists," he says. "However, the psychological aspects of rebellion, opposition, extremism, and even violence still reside within me," he admits with a tinge of genuine regret. "To temper these parts, I must continuously work on my character. Observing the mitzvot and *halacha* greatly helps me atone for past deeds."

"By nature, I am drawn to hatred, cruelty, and judgment. Although never legally convicted of any crime, this disposition is a part of me. Observing *halacha* and studying Torah provide preventative tools against these tendencies. Sometimes people ask me if I was violent or anti-Semitic. To me, there's no difference between the definitions—they coexist in the same box. Radicalism changes forms. You can be a neo-Nazi, then convert and become an extreme Jew in the name of religious ideology or G-d. For me, life’s work is achieving balance."

"Now every time I encounter negativity within myself or in others, rather than wallowing in it, I learn to accept reality, to show tenderness, and to refrain from judgment. Inside me still reside the parts that characterized Lutz—the strong, extreme, violent man—but thank G-d, today, there's also Jonathan with a Jewish soul. My journey is to reconcile and balance between the two."

"Both Sides Were Always Within Me"

Jonathan was born in Berlin to an average German middle-class family. His father was a national athlete on Germany's Olympic rowing team. Jonathan followed the family's sporty path from a young age, taking up martial arts, specifically karate, quickly excelling as an athlete. In his teens, he discovered his coach was part of a far-right brotherhood with neo-Nazi views.

The combination of strength, firm beliefs, and a sense of justice and confidence enchanted Lutz, drawing him rapidly into neo-Nazi activities. Daily group interactions quickly elevated him to an ideological leadership role. His wardrobe mostly consisted of clothing adorned with Nazi symbols, and his music playlist featured either compositions from the Nazi era or modern neo-Nazi techno tracks bearing messages of hate and anti-Semitism. It's precisely for this reason that when facing Jonathan today, it's challenging to connect these past images with the gentle, considerate person he is now.

What led you to become a neo-Nazi? Where does the violence you claim exists in you originate?

"When such questions are asked, people usually seek a traumatic past to explain my choices. I'm sorry to disappoint, but I experienced no childhood trauma, certainly not within my wonderfully supporting family. However, at school, I suffered a lot of bullying and never shared it with anyone. Today, I understand that suppression fostered a need for revenge.

"The strength I gained from karate training bolstered my self-confidence but also nurtured a repressed violent side. As a teenager, I often didn't know how to express these emotions, leading naturally to neo-Nazism. On the other hand, I've always been a sensitive person, able to read situations and emotions."

"I grew up in a secular household, though religiously aligned with the Evangelical-Lutheran Church. We never attended church nor celebrated its holidays, but some aspects of the atmosphere were observed."

"Within the Lutheran church, a child’s coming of age at 14 is celebrated, somewhat akin to a Jewish Bar Mitzvah. Practically, it amounts to the child receiving many gifts, primarily money. The day after my celebration, I gave all the money I received to the mother of a friend who needed it to fly to Africa to visit her son. My parents were shocked by my action. I, seeing her need, didn't hesitate. So, both sides were always within me."

What specifically drew you to the neo-Nazi group?

"Primarily the sense of rebellion and belonging to people fighting for a truth no one else would voice. There’s something gratifying in being politically incorrect, in defying expectations, and in thrusting 'truth' in people's faces. I admired my karate coach, a neo-Nazi, who embodied everything I wasn't: tough, confident, strong, with a clear truth."

"As a 15-16-year-old, filled with hormones and rebellious urges, you easily go along with it. Then, hearing news about Muslim foreigner violence drives you crazy. It's hard not to agree with ideologies of German racial superiority and the claim that democratic politics have sold out Germany, its identity, and its dignity."

"The supposed superiority grants control, power, and freedom. You think you're free, but you're utterly enslaved by an extreme ideology. Blaming others for your issues is intoxicating. There’s nothing more convenient than a scapegoat absorbing all frustrations, ailments, and problems, absolving you of responsibility. Above all, it fosters hope for a return to 'glorious, better days'—days of order, rules, hierarchy, and roles."

"Most of our group’s time was spent analyzing WWII strategies to pinpoint errors leading to defeat. Nobody saw the war itself as a mistake, just certain steps leading to loss. From a psychological perspective, I now see it was a national trauma processed through a desire to relive it, this time from a place of control."

Do Germans have a national trauma from WWII? They instigated traumas for others!

"Certainly, Germans caused a horrific disaster, yet the war's effects influence Germans too. I’ll give you an example: In our family, nobody was a Nazi party member or held a key army role during the war, so that era was never discussed. But this silence characterizes much of German society since there are matters left unsaid—a repression preventing acknowledgment and passing it down generations."

"Politically, it happened too. Post-war, Germany needed self-reconstruction, necessitating new appointments for all positions, supposedly non-Nazis: police, judges, clerics, politicians. But where do you instantly find so many professionals? Lines were blurred. They took individuals perhaps not committing heinous acts but served in the Nazi regime, reinstating them. Policemen, judges who served Nazis returned to benches. Even politicians with Nazi pasts were reelected, sometimes to senior leadership roles."

"This problem was tackled by swearing allegiance to the new democratic republic, but internally, ideologies persisted, albeit unspoken. This burden carries into today. Thirty years post-war, Germany's official language avoided 'defeat' regarding the war—the official term was 'Germany's liberation.' Claiming liberation implies Germany was a hostage of Hitler and the Nazis, seemingly absolving Germans from admitting support for Hitler, who was democratically elected, thus absolving them from war crimes, atrocities, and genocide."

"Regular people struggle to admit their mistakes, what about an entire nation? Psychologically, repressing creates trauma. What's a better way to resolve this trauma than reviving the Third Reich's idea? Outwardly, pretty speeches are made, but internally there's a feeling of injustice done to Germany. It wasn’t liberated but destroyed, with correction being a return to strength."

But Germany is a strong nation, among the world's seven most powerful nations.

"In liberal value terms, that’s the presentation, but from an average neo-Nazi perspective, today's Germany is a weak, flaccid, small, and humiliated country. Pre-war Germany was larger in territory. Today’s German army is a walking joke. Even conceding Germany doesn't need a strong army since it has no active conflicts, neo-Nazis see no connection. A small, weakened army symbolizes insult and feebleness. Money, global influence, strong economy, and technology aren't strength to them."

"While in the neo-Nazi group, value derived from knowing people feared me, that I was physically strong, capable of violence. Those are the metrics. Technology is nothing compared to potentially conquering Poland in a week and crushing the Netherlands in four days. Converting real power to modern values appears to neo-Nazis as sickness, brainwashing. It took me considerable time to realize that my desire for power illustrated my weakness. Weak in listening to people, sharing emotions, and balancing opinions."

The Midrash says Esau's hatred for Jacob is irreversible. That anti-Semitism is an incurable disease.

"As a Jew, I understand that statement. For years I hated Jews above all else, even though I never saw or met one in my life. Ideological indoctrination was strong enough to present hatred as the genuine article. Spiritually, I now think Jews hold a central part in stoking hatred against themselves. The Jewish people have a vocation and mission to be a light unto the nations and to repair the world under G-d's sovereignty. The world craves this light and repair; when Israel shirks its duty, it manifests as hatred, akin to a child acting out when denied what they want."

"There's no substitute for the Jewish contribution to the world. Consider a taxi driver with potential to be a great singer, but due to myriad reasons, believes he must remain a driver all life. Imagine the frustration and anger such a person feels."

Discovering the Path to Repair

What is your view on divisions and hatred within Israeli society itself? Isn’t it disappointing to discover the place you expected to find peace and unity is also sick with hostility?

"I’m not sure comparing anti-Semitism to Jewish internal hostility is accurate. My early visits to Israel, a decade ago, before converting, made me oblivious to societal splits. Much like spies sent by Israel from the desert, I saw only what I desired, not reality."

"After four years living in Israel, I’m astounded by societal rifts. *Chazal* says Israel is the world's center, Jerusalem is the heart of Israel, the Temple is Jerusalem's heart, and the Holy of Holies is the world's heart. We inhabit the world's most spiritual locale, naturally attracting the greatest light. This creates inherent tension within our ranks."

"Spiritually, positive potential is met by equally strong negative potential. Negativity from the *sitra achra* sustains itself through hatred and division. By indulging in our mutual hatred, we block repair discovery."

"Israeli society's informal decision to highlight the 20% differences over the 80% commonality among us is deeply painful. Sadly, even within a single family—most prefer distant kin. Gather everyone once yearly around a table, and chaos erupts: arguments, grievances, personality gaps."

Connecting the Heart and Mind

Jonathan's journey toward Judaism took an unconventional, possibly mystical path. University pressures curtailed his neo-Nazi group attendance. During this time a spiritually inclined partner emerged, frequently leading him to lectures and gatherings.

"We traveled extensively to spiritual lectures," he recounts. "Mainly New Age, Eastern religions, and the like. I delved into Osho's teachings, began meditating and the like. I loved it, yet sensed hollowness, longing for something serious."

"One night, I dreamt I was floating toward a cave with 'KABALA' inscribed on its wall. The next morning, curious, I Googled 'Kabbalah' and was shocked by the results. It said it’s Jewish mysticism. I felt immense revulsion—what did it have to do with Jews? Yet there was a contact number for the Berlin Kabbalah Center. I jotted it, wrestling with myself for weeks."

"Two months later, one evening, I decided to check out the place. As I neared, it dawned I was going somewhere I oughtn't be. Berlin’s Kabbalah Center sat in the old Jewish quarter between an old Jewish cemetery and a Jewish school. Policemen and guards stood at each institution entrance, protecting against individuals like myself. There I was, the enemy, walking into a place where I was most feared and which I despised. Overcoming my repulsion, I entered the class."

"Standing before me was a man with a kippah and beard. The thought of learning from a Jew drove me crazy. Internally, I grappled deeply: this man appeared normal, sane, wise, and his statements challenged my worldview, claiming life was good, purposeful, offering choice and potential beyond belief—before receiving, one must give, and selfishness was forbidden."

"This rabbi placed a mirror before me, and I disliked what I saw—realizing I harbored anger and hatred for people, particularly those unlike me. Inside, I knew his words were true, but was I capable of change? Did I even wish to change? Never mind the perceived high cost. I kept returning to classes while simultaneously attending neo-Nazi gatherings."

"Learning helped unveil my flaws and the repairs needed. I recognized that my developed hatred destroyed relationships not only with different individuals but also with family, colleagues, and university friends. Yet, leaving the group was impossible; they were my sole belonging."

What made you commit fully?

"Months later, the rabbi invited me to Shabbat dinner. It was my first Jewish prayer participation, dining, hearing *zemirot* and Torah insights. Though not understanding a word, I was captivated by the joy and good energy present—never encountering its like. On leaving that night, I was ecstatic yet felt my brain might explode."

"Contemplating that the neo-Nazi group membership might harm me started terrifyingly, prompting an immediate return to the group. I plunged into a week of neo-Nazi parties and assemblies, consumed much alcohol, and listened to neo-Nazi music day and night. Around me, everyone believed I was fully onboard, but internally, I felt treacherous."

"After that week, I returned to my Berlin apartment, discarding all Nazi music disks and clearing my wardrobe of symbol-laden clothes. Shaved-headed then, I decided to grow my hair out. Resumed classes, began following some of the rabbi's advice. For the first time, I started volunteering."

"Within weeks, I found myself, by choice, attending a synagogue Shabbat morning service. Despite not understanding a word, I'd sit through Torah readings with closed eyes, feeling healed, akin to meditation. Three months in, the thought of wearing *tefillin* lodged in my mind. It wasn't commandment-driven—knowing these boxes contained Torah words sufficed. When the rabbi explained connecting arm *tefillin* with head *tefillin*, symbolizing heart-mind connection, I knew it was the missing link in my life."

"Months later, I flew to Israel for my first visit. It was Rosh Hashanah; I wanted to sow seeds for the new year. I asked Hashem to facilitate my return. Stayed for Yom Kippur, Sukkot, and Simchat Torah. In Israel, I began keeping Shabbat, eating kosher, immersing in a mikvah, and on returning from the visit, resolved to leave Germany. I moved to London for three years, connecting with a community and rabbis, progressing in studies."

"My greatest shock came when mentioning conversion—rabbis there attempted talking me out of it. It was bewildering—not understanding how those who helped me for years now deemed conversion a foolish notion, urging me to enjoy a full, beautiful life as I was. For a long time, I was angry at them."

"It took nearly a year to comprehend I was being tested. Testing my sincerity about converting or if it was fanciful. The test concluded when I told my rabbi, 'I don't care what you say or think—I want to convert. Where do I register? What must I do?'"

"This led to the next trial: undergoing circumcision. Lacking funds for the expensive, complex adult circumcision, needing $1,000, meant facing another trial: informing my parents of conversion and asking them for money. Only post-circumcision did my true journey begin. Shortly thereafter, I returned to Germany—a challenging period for my faith."

"Only When I Embraced the Journey Did Everything Fall Into Place"

"In Berlin, I found myself, for the first time, friendless, community-less, without any spiritual hub to reach out to. I had a new job but felt unsatisfied. The emptiness consumed me until one night, I met up with neo-Nazi group friends. They looked at me like an alien. Unaware of my journey, my sudden appearance after nearly four years made them suspicious. I tried returning to sports, but again faced emptiness. That’s when I realized I had no choice but to complete the conversion."

"Daily, I buried myself at home in books on *halacha* to grasp why a tray when immersed in soup, at certain temperatures, renders it non-kosher, while in others, it doesn’t—and how this pertains to the utensil’s size or soup amount. I read each thing ten times to grasp it. It was intensely hard, but starting with *halacha*, life began aligning. I found a different job, resumed volunteering, met new teachers for guidance, began conversion exams, and passed. Only upon truly embracing my journey did everything align. One year post-conversion completion, I was living in Israel."

Anti-Semitism in Europe intensified over the past two years. What are your thoughts on the far right's rise?

"To your surprise, I consider the German right's rise favorable. Fully understanding the desire to restrict them and acknowledging fears of a backward Germany, countering their ideas through force is fundamentally flawed. Pushing someone only empowers them."

"Indeed, if elected, they must address existential problems, not absurd theories, sitting at the same parliamentary table with those they despise, unable to do so. They have no solutions for daily questions, like educational policies, school construction, overcoming social divides, or renewable energy strategies."

"The extreme right offers mostly empty slogans; lacking future foresight, dwelling in the past fuels their hatred. This emptiness becomes apparent only in legislative action, facing challenges. Hatred isn't a methodology. Isolated in the neo-Nazi group, I was trapped within hatred. Only exposure to regular people initiated my change."

Do you envision returning to Germany one day?

"Good question. Technically, I can’t leave Israel, not yet having Israeli citizenship, as leaving nullifies my tourist visa. However, even once obtaining Israeli ID, I’m uncertain about going to Germany. My parents visited twice here, enjoying it immensely. My brother also visited. It’s unusual, but contemplating a trip there frightens me. I now possess a Jewish appearance. I've been featured in European articles, fearing targeted hostility, it's astounding to now fear anti-Semitism against me."

"Sadly, my two-year Israeli citizenship request goes unanswered despite presenting documents, proofs, testimonies, and certificates of my *halachic* orthodox conversion. The process drains me due to uncertainty about my Israeli future."

"I assume delays stem from my prior neo-Nazi background, fully understanding the need to verify my past. Understanding fear from some locals towards me here is also within my grasp. Daily, I ponder the lasting suspicion cloud. Since 2017, I maintain Torah-observant Judaism, leaving behind family, jobs, status, language, friends, culture—hoping to join both the Jewish people and Israel's state."

"Conversion taught me it isn't merely formal, but a spiritual rebirth. Perhaps becoming Israeli is yet another conversion type. Sometimes people deem me naive, attributing spiritual significance to bureaucracy. If there's one journey lesson—it’s resorting to only spiritual perspectives. No choice amid such rejection pain, forcing me to rise above reality, aiming to witness beyond. Sinking into pain is unviable; I don't view conversion merely as religious—it’s a Jewish, human improvement path."

"Every *tefillin* binding reminds me to control inner anger. Sticking to kosher prevents corrupting elements from entering my soul. Observing Shabbat sharpens personal boundary awareness and questions concerning progression versus letting go. Each aspect encompasses greater meaning and purpose, surpassing mere observance."

Published in *Olam Katan* magazine.