Newsletter Archives

On This Chanukah

December 7, 2023

Recently I heard Benjamin Netanyahu, Prime Minister of Israel, reference the festival of Chanukah in a news briefing regarding the 'war ON Israel.' The connection he made connected with me and, I'm certain, with many others who thought it an apt analogy.

Like our Jewish ancestors, the people of Israel are, quite literally, fighting for their own lives and for the life of their nation. They are threatened on every side with physical enemies on their borders and with hatred from numerous ideological and religious enemies across the world---even in our own 'land of liberty,' the United States of America.

Chanukah is a festival celebrating the victory of the Jews over their Syrian-Greek oppressors, around 165 years before the Messiah of Israel appeared in 'the Land.'

Under a diabolical dictator named Antiochus Epiphanes, the Jewish people were oppressed, persecuted, tortured and killed; their religious observance was forbidden and their holy temple was desecrated, best demonstrated by an unclean pig being offered on the altar of sacrifice and an idolatrous image set up in the house of the one and only true God.

Under the leadership of the Maccabees, a priestly and patriotic family, zealous for Zion, the evil enemy was defeated; the faith of our fathers restored; the temple cleansed and rededicated to the LORD God of Israel. The feast gets its name from this last act of faith; Chanukah is called the 'Feast of Dedication.' 🕎

Not only does Chanukah foreshadow other things, such as the coming 'things' of the book of Revelation, complete with its 'Antichrist' and 'Abomination of Desolation,' (to name a few,) it also casts a shadow on this present time---this present trial---for Israel; for the Land and for the people. Netanyahu compared the brave, young Israeli soldiers---male and female, religious and secular, standing and fallen--to 'Maccabees'; heroes of Israel, ALL!

I share his assessment of these Jewish patriots.

As for me and my house, our hearts are with our people in their battle. However, as Jewish believers in Yeshua, Jesus, our spirits know we engage in this war in a different way. We are fighting the same enemy---but on a different battlefield. We are a different sort of soldier and we fight with different weapons.

In both situations the LORD is the leader; HE is the LORD of the 'armies of Heaven.'

In both situations---in the realm of the seen and in the unseen-the enemy is the devil and his unholy minions.

In both situations and on both battlefields, the objective is the same; Victory.

The result in both is the same; God wins; the God of ISRAEL and HIS holy hosts; heavenly and earthly.

So, on this Chanukah, let us 'dedicate' ourselves to being like the Maccabees, willing to fight for their land, their people, their God---and for His Word of promise to their fathers. And let us remember that we believers fight not with 'carnal,' earthly weapons that administer death but with 'MIGHTY,' heavenly weapons that minister life; life in this age and on this earth; life for an age to come; life in a world restored. 

'Am Yisrael Chai!' 'People of Israel, Live!'

'Baruch HaShem Adonai!' 'Blessed is HE who comes in the Name of the LORD!' 

Let a lyric from 'Maoz Tsur,' a Chanukah hymn, be our benediction:

'Rock of Ages, let our song

Praise thy saving power

Thou, amidst the raging foe

Wast our sheltering tower

Furious they assailed us

But thine arm availed us

And Thy Word---broke their sword

When our own strength failed us.'

May OUR faith NEVER fail!

Have a blessed and heroic Chanukah---in HIM!

Marty and Jenny

'House of Worship'

Happy Thanksgiving: We Gather Together!

November 22, 2023

This time of year, music is in the air. Most of it is for Christmas, a little bit covers Chanukah---but scant musical attention is given to one of our most cherished holidays: Thanksgiving. Still, there is one well known hymn associated with this glorious feast, and it bears particular relevance at this time: 'We Gather Together.' Interestingly, except for the celebration of our 'joining' with one another to beseech the blessing of the Lord, the song is actually a national declaration of victory in battle. Certain lines speak powerfully to us all, especially during a devastating war on Israel, continued conflict in Ukraine and unrest and turmoil all over the globe--even here in America.

As we, the citizens of our great nation prepare to observe this historic holiday, commemorating our beginnings, it would behoove us to consider some lyrics to this famous festival hymn:

'We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing...'

'The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing...'

'So from the beginning the fight we were winning; 

Thou, Lord, were at our side...'

'Let Thy congregation escape tribulation...'

And to sum it all up in a paean of praise: 

'Thy Name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!'

Thanksgiving reminds us of the miracle that is America and of the mandate from God to remember HIM in our expressions of gratitude.

As you all gather together--with whomever you do--my family and I wish you a most blessed Thanksgiving season. 

And, in closing, to reference our hymn once again, may you and yours join us in adding to the seasonal repertoire by giving thanks to God in song.

'We all do extol Thee, Thou Leader triumphant,

And pray that Thou still our defender will be!'

Amen--May it ever be,

Love and Shalom,

Marty for his family and the congregation of 'H.O.W.'

A Great Man: Pastor Jack Hayford

January 10, 2023

In a eulogy I heard delivered at the memorial of a mutual friend, Rev. Will Graham paid tribute to her life by quoting King David in ‘2 Samuel 3:38’: ‘Do you not know that a prince and a great man has fallen this day in Israel?’ David was referring to the tragic death of one of his fighting men, Avner. I would like to borrow from Will Graham’s tribute to give honor to another great man: Pastor Jack Hayford. He was, like the heroes of old, a TRUE warrior for the Lord in his day. Unlike them, the weapons of his warfare were ‘not carnal, but mighty, for the pulling down of strongholds’—and the building up of the people of God. Jenny and I heard of his passing while attending a conference of Messianic Rabbis in Orlando, Florida. One of the speakers, Dr. Jeffrey Seif, referring to the news of this beloved Pastor’s death, said—(and I paraphrase)—‘there is a hole in the spiritual universe tonight.’

When I led in worship the night I heard the sad news, I included the Hayford composed, classic anthem, ‘Majesty,’ in my set of songs. All in attendance joined with me in singing it to honor Pastor Jack…

…and that is what he was—and will always be—in the hearts of myriad members of the Body of Messiah; their ‘Pastor.’ Whether or not one attended ‘Church on the Way,’ in Sherman Oaks, CA—which grew from a modest chapel full of folks into a major, world-changing church under his leadership—Jack was thought of by everyone who sat under his ministry as MY Pastor.

He was OUR pastor when we lived in the San Fernando Valley outside of Los Angeles. One of our most cherished memories—(shown in this video)—was his heartfelt dedication of our one and only daughter, Misha! I was first introduced to Pastor Jack when I played piano and conducted for Debby Boone, whose father, Pat and his wife Shirley, were charter members of the congregation. As Senior Pastor, he was gracious beyond what he had to be when we first met and, later—when Jenny and I had the privilege of getting to know him as a friend, he gave me more encouragement and affirmation than I merited. He even wrote an eloquent and touching endorsement for us as Jenny and I were launching our music ministry.

No one could turn a phrase like him, combining a razor sharp intellect with a gentle sensitivity to the Holy Spirit. He could impress and impact people from every walk of life—from the most celebrated and esteemed to the most humble and lowly—and never lost the common touch. As brilliant as he was, not only in preaching and teaching but also in playing piano and composing music, his passion was not to impress with what he himself could do but to impact others for His Majesty; His Lord.

Pastor Jack loved to ‘exalt (and) lift up on high the Name of Jesus’ and ‘to magnify…(and) glorify Christ Jesus, the King’! In his many years of faithful and fruitful ministry, he was instrumental in teaching others to do the same. More than anything, throughout his sojourn on earth, he worshipped God; and there’s no greater warrior for the kingdom of God than one who is a ‘worshipper!’ He fought the good fight; he finished his race; he kept the faith—and because He did, we have all been blessed, loved and shepherded through the precious days we had with him. As if all this were not enough—he had a great love for Israel and the Jewish people. At one time, ‘Church on the Way’ had enough Jewish believers to form a multitude of Messianic congregations! He was loved all over the world and, especially, in ‘The Land.’

So, with a heavy heart, made a bit lighter by the knowledge that he made it all the way home to unite with His Lord and to reunite—in an eternal sense—with his first wife, Anna, and many of his family, I say: Thank you, Pastor Jack! Bless you for who you are and were and will always be to all of us!

OUR Pastor will most certainly hear, ‘Well Done’ from Yeshua! And from me—a man privileged and humbled to have known him—you, my friends, will hear once again: ‘Do you not know that a prince and a great man has fallen in Israel?’ The ‘Good News’ is that, Pastor Jack is now there with the One he worshipped so well here;  he’s with ‘Jesus, who died, (and is) now glorified, King of All Kings! Hallelujah!!

‘And with every candle on the menorah, That illuminates the night, Comes a prayer you’ll kindle,

In me, Messiah, a desire for your fire—for your light!’

May this prayer—sung in my song featured on our CD, ‘Festivals of Light,’—be a cry from all our hearts at this ‘Feast of Chanukah.’ Tonight, we enter into the second day of this festival and see three candles burning on our ‘Chanukkiah’—the nine branched Chanukah menorah—after returning home just yesterday from a ‘thankful Thanksgiving’ with Misha, Joshua, Caleb and Samuel in Louisville, KY. We kindle these lights for eight nights, memorializing the ‘miracle’ of the oil; remembering that a one day supply of anointed, holy oil, lasted eight days and provided light in the holy place until more oil could be prepared.

‘A great miracle happened there’ we annually declare! Not long after sampling delicious turkey dinner leftovers, we find ourselves celebrating the eight days of this Jewish holiday—a remembrance of the victory of the ‘Maccabees’ over their Syrian/Greek enemies and the subsequent cleansing and ‘rededication’ of the holy Temple. Chanukah means ‘dedication’—and we’re reminded that, as believers in Yeshua, we are to be dedicated to being a ‘light to the world,’ even as we recall how God rescued and preserved His Jewish people and kept their light burning in the earth. After all—had the light of Israel been snuffed out—there would have been no fulfillment of God’s promise: the birth of the One who said, ‘I AM the LIGHT of the World’—Yeshua, Jesus.

So, for those of you who think there should be a little ‘something’ between Thanksgiving and Christmas—HAPPY HANUKKAH from our house to yours! May YOU be the light of the world during these ‘Festivals of Light’—and may you shine every day until the DAY of ETERNAL LIGHT promised to all who believe and look forward to HIS return!

Love and shalom,

Marty for his Family

L'Shana Tovah - Happy New Year!

September 7, 2021

For those of you who emerged from a long Labor Day weekend thinking you could use another day ‘off,’ there is good news: today, September 7th, is an additional holiday! Of course, the country in which we are blessed to live doesn’t recognize it as a national celebration—so, it’s back to work and ‘business as usual’ for many. However, in Israel, and all over the world, including America, many others are observing Rosh HaShanah—the ‘head of the year’—the ‘Jewish New Year’—they’re saying farewell to year 5781 and welcoming the year 5782!

Then the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, “Speak to the children of Israel, saying: 

       ‘In the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall have a 

        sabbath-rest, a memorial of blowing of trumpets, a holy convocation.

        You shall do no customary work on it; and you shall offer an offering made by fire to the Lord.’”   (Leviticus 23:23-25)

OK—you may have noticed that the Scriptures say that this first day of the month,(Tishrei), is the SEVENTH month, not the first month—so how is it a ‘New Year’? Simply put, this is the first day of the ‘civil’ year. (The month Nisan, in which we celebrate Passover, is actually the ‘Biblical’ first month of the year.) However, for Jewish people, this calendar day—in my lifetime and in many lifetimes before me—has been considered the first day of the year. So, from my family and me, we wish you a ‘Happy New Year.’

Should you want to justify doing no ‘customary work’—the Bible backs you up. Still, you may have to take that up with your employer! (As to the ‘burnt offering’ part—I wouldn’t recommend it!) Regarding what should be done, we get a hint from the scriptural name for this observance: ‘Yom Teruah’—the ‘Feast of Trumpets.’

In synagogues the world over, the ‘shofar’—(a ram’s horn)—will be sounded, calling all Israel to ‘wake up’ to the Lord and His righteousness; to assemble with one’s people to stand before a Holy God; to prepare one’s heart to enter the coming ‘Days of Awe,’ (Yamim Noraim)—a season of self-reflection, remorse over one’s failings and a resolve to enter into sincere repentance, hopefully unto personal (and national) renewal.

We believers in Yeshua, (Jesus), as Messiah, also reflect on the sounding of the ‘Last Trumpet,’ heralding the return of ‘The King’ to rule and reign in Jerusalem over Israel, ‘the nations,’ the earth and—indeed—the whole universe! That’s a lot to contemplate as people enjoy religious services with their family and community, eat ‘apples and honey’ to represent a ‘sweet new year,’ and greet one another with ‘L’Shana Tovah’—‘to a Good Year.’

As the shofar sounds this year, we see signs everywhere that the ‘Prince of Peace’ is not yet ‘ruling and reigning’ in our world—(though in Heaven He IS ‘Lord of All.’) And at the sound of the ‘Last Shofar’ He will return as ‘King of Kings’—and that will be a NEW YEAR indeed—a NEW WORLD in fact, as ‘Heaven comes to Earth.’ This year is unique in that these High Holidays,’ beginning with Rosh HaShanah, followed by Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement) and ‘Sukkot’ (Tabernacles), coincide with the twenty year anniversary of ‘9-11’ and the annual national remembrance of the infamous terrorist attack on America in September of 2001. Rather than my saying anything more about that, I invite you to watch and listen to our video of the song, ‘We Will Never Forget.’ https://youtu.be/3Dm432ElYmY

With much assistance from Jennifer and Misha, (my wife and daughter,) I collaborated on this composition with Dr. Mitch Glaser, the faithful, gifted, long-time head of Chosen People Ministries, a historic missionary organization, bringing the ‘Good News’ of Yeshua to the Jewish people and to people of all nations. Dr. Mitch, a talented songwriter himself, desired an ‘anthem,’ so to speak, to accompany a CPM conference being held in NYC to commemorate the twentieth anniversary of 9-11. Jenny, Misha, (new grandson, Samuel) and I will be traveling to New York this weekend to participate in this timely event—and to present the song, referred to by ‘Chosen People’ as ‘a 9-11 hymn.’

That seems appropriate as we gather to ‘never forget’ those we loved and lost on that day twenty years ago—as we gather to ‘always remember’ the Lord God of Israel on this ‘Feast of Trumpets’ and to look forward to Yeshua’s return—and as we gather to wish each other a ‘sweet and good’ new year. May that wish be true for all of you who read this today—for all of you who share in, support and, most of all, pray for what we do. We are eternally grateful for you all. Please pray for this upcoming conference on Sept. 10th and 11th; for Chosen People Ministries; for us and our ministry; for the Jewish people and the nation of Israel; for the United States and for the world, to which America is called to be a ‘shining city on a hill’; for the ‘gospel of the kingdom’ to go forth in love and in power to this generation and to future generations.

As I close, I know you would join me in offering prayers, as well, for the families of the brave service men and women who recently died in the line of duty in Afghanistan—not to mention all those in uniform who have lost their lives in ‘post 9-11’ years to protect us and our liberty. ‘L’Shana Tovah’ everyone! ‘Happy New Year,’ dear family and friends!! May you be inscribed in the ‘Book of Life’ for, not only a good year—but also a blessed life, in this age and in the ‘age to come.’ So let us all celebrate ‘Rosh HaShanah,’ enjoy some apples and honey and gather with another to observe the holiday. Let us also observe the ‘9-11’ remembrance and finally—to listen for the sound of the shofar. It calls us to pay attention to the Lord in our day—and reminds us to prepare for the return of our Lord in that ‘Great Day’ to come!

Love, thanks and shalom,

Marty for his family

The Brit Milah for Samuel

June 14, 2021

Covenant Love

‘Grandchildren are the crown of the aged, while the glory of children is their ancestors.’

        —Proverbs 17:6  (CJB)

Jenny and I are returning to Nashville, TN from Austin, TX after witnessing, along with family and friends, the ‘Brit Milah’—covenant of circumcision—performed on the newest member of our ‘tribe,’ Samuel Andrew Hoyt.’

Everyone gathered to join in this ‘mitzvah’—this good and godly blessing—was blessed to be a part of it. (Everyone except Samuel, that is!) Our precious daughter, Misha and her amazing husband, Joshua, stood close by the ‘mohel’—the man appointed to perform the ritual—as Caleb, now ‘promoted’ to ‘big brother’ sang over and comforted his new, little sibling.

We were ‘kvelling’—swelling with pride to be Samuel’s grandparents—as well as agonizing over his plaintive pleas for it all to stop; or at least that’s how I heard it! (Grateful are we all for a skilled surgeon instead of a flint knife, used by Abraham back in the days when this all began.)

‘Generation after generation, every male among you who is eight days old is to be circumcised—thus my covenant will be in your flesh as an everlasting covenant.’

           —Genesis 17:6+7  (CJB)

Joshua’s parents, Tim and Vicki Hoyt, along with their sons, Jonathan and Jordan, celebrated along with us, as they witnessed another ‘boy Hoyt’ being introduced to the covenant God made with his ancestors, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. I sang a song, joined Misha in another and she sang a blessing over her newborn—and over us all —with her beautiful rendition of the ‘Aaronic Blessing,’ which is traditionally spoken as part the ‘Bris’—the circumcision ceremony.     (Numbers 6:24-26)

Joshua delivered a stirring speech, emotionally recounting their experience as a couple, eloquently explaining what they were doing and adding poetry and passion to the announcement of their son’s name:

Samuel—‘asked of God’—for he is the result of Joshua and Misha ‘asking’ for a child after the heartbreaking loss of a previous pregnancy. (Samuel also happens to be the first name of Jenny’s daddy, who was known as ‘Ben’; a fact that served as confirmation in the naming of their child.)

Andrew—after the name of Joshua’s ‘beloved Judge,’ Andy Oldham, for whom he has clerked this year in Austin on the ‘Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals.’ And—Samuel’s Hebrew names, given in Jewish tradition to honor deceased ancestors:

Eliyahu—the Lord, He is God—to honor my maternal grandfather, Elias Mantel. (That was a touching surprise.)

Yitzhak—‘laughter’—for they are full of joy at having received this heavenly blessing five years after receiving number one grandson, Caleb—whose Hebrew name is ‘Abraham’—(after my father, Albert.)

Together their two boys are, in Hebrew parlance, Abraham and Isaac. And so, as He has from time immemorial, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, in His eternal love for us, continues to bring forth life, passing on the heritage, the hopes and the blessings of our forefathers—(and mothers)—‘L’Dor V’Dor’—generation to generation.

And when the covenant had been ‘cut,’ the prayers had been said, the songs had been sung, the announcements had been made—we ATE—(of course!)

After all, though it was a bit painful for the one for whom all this was done, a sweet time was had by everyone—(well, ALMOST everyone)—as we experienced something holy, significant and deeply spiritual, instituted by the Lord thousands of years ago and continuing to this day as a reminder that we are a ‘covenant people,’ bound—by blood—to a ‘covenant initiating and promise keeping God.’

May Jennifer and I—and all the friends and family who love Joshua, Misha, Caleb and Samuel—see the blessings of Abraham abound and overtake the lives of these loved ones.

And may our ancestors—in some sense—rejoice to see the blessing and the covenant continue to this  generation and the generations to come.

We send our heartfelt gratitude and sincere thanks to all of you who have prayed for us and celebrated with us the birth of Samuel Andrew (Eliyahu Yitzhak) Hoyt!

Shalom in Yeshua—the minister of the New Covenant—in whose Name we pray and put our trust—and to whom we entrust the life of our new and cherished grandson.

Grandparents Marty and Jenny for the ‘mishpochah’—the family.

SAMUEL ANDREW HOYT

Born June 6, 2021

‘Do You Believe in Miracles?!’

       —Al Michaels; 1980 Olympics

I’m old enough to remember the veteran sportscaster, Al Michaels, shout these words upon witnessing the amateur American players defeat the vaunted Soviet hockey team in the 1980 Olympics. The victory has, to this day, been dubbed the ‘Miracle on Ice.’ It is an apt use of the term considering the circumstances surrounding that event.

Still—on June 6th, 2021, another event occurred which I consider the greatest miracle  of all: the birth of a baby. Not just any baby; a beautiful, baby boy; the second son of Joshua Hoyt and our one and only daughter, Misha Goetz Hoyt. Their first son —Caleb Vincent—came into our world five years ago and he has been a blessing to us all ever since. A year back, however, another pregnancy resulted in a miscarriage; an unexpected heartbreak, disappointment and shock to us all.

Consequently, since the day I heard ‘the kids’ were expecting another child, I have been on ‘pins and needles,’ as if I had to somehow ‘will’ this child into the world. Every day I would pray that the Lord would knit this baby together in the womb. I would imagine with each passing week that God was forming a perfect little child inside of Misha. And I trusted that my prayers would—in some way—aid the creator of the universe in creating this brand new life.

Whether he needed my help or not, God managed to do what only He can. He made a perfect little human being; our second grandson, Samuel Andrew Hoyt.

And that is a miracle. In truth—it didn’t really take the birth of this child to make me believe.

Still—as I hold this little one in my arms—looking at those ten teeny fingers and toes, looking into those barely opening eyes, hearing those sweet little sounds from those sweet little lips—I am more amazed than ever that God can do THIS; that our Father in Heaven can bring two people together to form this one of a kind, totally unique, completely remarkable—well—MIRACLE!

Maybe it’s being at an age at which I’m ever more conscious that I will be returning to the ‘place’ from which this baby just came that makes me see the miracle in more stark, startling and meaningful ways. Whatever the reason, I am more amazed and astounded than ever before—(not to mention, relieved)—at what the Lord has done.

And so—MAZEL TOV, Joshua and Misha!

Congratulations to Tim and Vicki (Joshua’s parents) and all the many Hoyts!! And—‘wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles’—Jenny and I have a new grandson; a boy who will call us ‘JG’ and ‘Papa’ for as long as our Father in Heaven will allow us to enjoy our time here with him and his big brother, Caleb and—whoever may come next—in this brief, baffling and glorious life.

As for you, Al Michaels: I DO believe in miracles! And, looking at this little newborn boy, I find it hard to believe that anyone does NOT! Perhaps they would do well to read a passage such as this:

‘For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb.

I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

My frame was not hidden from You,

When I was made in secret...

Your eyes saw my substance being yet unformed.

And in Your book they were all written,

The days fashioned for me,

When as yet there were none of them.’

         —Psalm 139: 13-16

Samuel Andrew Hoyt—welcome to our world.

No—to HIS world! May all the days He has fashioned for you be blessed. And thank you, Father God and Lord Yeshua, Jesus, for blessing US with this MIRACLE—and for giving us all another reason to believe!!

Marty for his family 

Austin, TX  (6/7/21)

Samuel Andrew Hoyt - Born June 6, 2021 at 12:40 AM weighing 9 lbs 4.5 oz and 22 in. long

A Purim Greeting (For Such ‘Times’ as ‘These') - February 25, 2021

The news headlines in this still new year of 2021 feature stories about Iran and its relation to the rest of the world. Of particular concern is its nuclear program and its support of terrorism; situations demanding attention from the United States and Israel, called ‘the big satan’ and ‘the little satan,’ respectively, by fanatical leaders in the aforementioned Islamic fundamentalist regime. Among Iran’s goals, besides being a constant threat to America and other nations, is its desire to, either 'wipe Israel off the face of the earth’ or ‘drive the Zionists into the sea.’ (These are paraphrases—but you get the idea.)

As the ‘Feast of Purim’ is observed this year, it is interesting to note how little has changed in the world since about the 5th century B.C., when a government official named Haman planned to kill all the Jews in the Persian Empire. He was incensed that a Jewish man, Mordecai, was honored by the King, Ahasuerus; an honor Haman thought was due him. His anger led to a diabolical plot to destroy the whole Jewish nation, along with Mordecai. He cast ‘lots’ to determine the date of their destruction; thus the name of the feast—Purim—the Hebrew word for ‘lots.’

In the ‘Megillah’—or ‘scroll’—of Esther—(also a book in the Bible by the same name,)—is the inspiring and miraculous story of how Mordecai’s young, beautiful and orphaned cousin Esther, whom he had adopted, became the Queen of Persia. She would, eventually and providentially, save her kinsmen; a heroic act prompted by Mordecai’s exhortation that she ask herself if, perhaps, she had ‘come to the kingdom for such a time as this?’ (Esther 4:14)

In ‘such times as these’ it’s amazing to think that the once vast and powerful Persian Empire had, at one time in history, a Jewish queen. It is even more amazing when one considers that Persia is now modern-day Iran; a country that may be technologically modern but is ancient in its hatred of the Jewish state, (not to mention its repression of its own citizens through 7th century Islamic law.)

Presently, the world is wondering when Iran will—if they don’t already—have nuclear weapons; weapons with the potential to, possibly, reach the U.S.—but definitely designed to hit its neighbor in the Middle East—Israel. To be clear—this is not the intent of the Iranian people themselves; a populace that, for the most part, desires the liberty and prosperity enjoyed by those who are blessed enough to live in a place like America. It is the demonic desire of a wicked and deceptive regime; a regime imbued with the same satanic and murderous hate embodied by the ancient, Persian, Haman—a man who was ultimately hanged on the same gallows he had prepared for his nemesis, Mordecai. 

In addition, the decree calling for the killing of the Jews was also reversed to give the Jewish people the right to defend themselves and, if necessary, to kill their enemies. (Incidentally, the Name of God is nowhere mentioned in the Book of Esther—but His hand is EVERYWHERE!) We don’t yet know what will be the end of this current Iranian incarnation of anti-western and anti-Semitic hatred—at least in THIS age. (We do know what it will be in the ‘age to come.’) We also know that we still have the privilege and the freedom to observe, (to whatever degree we choose,) the Feast of Purim; a holiday characterized by its remembrance of past deliverance, commemoration of present preservation, and celebration of current blessings.

On the 14th (and also, in some places, the 15th) of ‘Adar’—a month on the Hebrew calendar—this festival features the reading of the ‘scroll’ of Esther, punctuated with the sound of the ‘gragger,’ a noisemaker used to drown out the infamous name of Haman. ‘Hamantaschen’—tasty pastries in the three-cornered shape of Haman’s hat— are eaten, gifts are given, (especially to the poor,) and costumes are worn by children pretending to be characters in the story of Esther. ‘Purim spiels’—plays—are presented as the biblical narrative is acted out. This—the Feast of Purim—is a good time!

May you who celebrate this historic holiday consider that YOU are alive in God’s Kingdom—‘for such a time as THIS!’

May we all be aware, as well, that ‘such times as these’ remind us that, though the modern age is very different from the ancient one—much is still the same. Regrettably, there is still evil in the world and, thankfully, still much good; there is still One who sees the end from the beginning and causes all things to ‘work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose’—like YOU! (Romans 8:28)

We may never see another Jewish Queen—but we know we will soon see a Jewish KING—ruling Israel and the nations from His throne in Jerusalem. Until that great day—may we celebrate this feast—and all feasts—with a song on our lips, thanksgiving in our hearts and eager anticipation of ‘a future and a hope.’

Should you need some music to accompany your celebration—allow us to suggest our EP: ‘For Such a Time as This’—a five track recording featuring the title song written by my daughter Misha Goetz Music and me. It’s a duet sung from the perspective of Esther (Misha) and Mordecai (Marty). The song was written around the same time that the deadly Coronavirus Pandemic was spreading around the world. We found it interesting that ‘For Such a Time as This’ came to be at ‘such a time as this’; a time, the likes of which, none of us has ever seen—or wants to see again.

Our prayer for you is that better days are ahead for you and yours; days of ‘feasting and gladness’; times turning ‘from sorrow to joy’ and ‘from mourning to a holiday.’ (Esther 9:22)

Please pray for us that we here at ‘Marty Goetz Ministries’ will—like Mordecai of old —continue to seek ‘the good of (our) people’ and to ‘speak peace to all (our) countrymen; that is to say—the gospel of peace, which is the ‘power of God to salvation for everyone who believes, for the Jew first and also for the (nations.)’ (Romans 1:16)

In the midst of much bad news—that is GOOD NEWS—for THESE times and for ALL time! Blessings and Shalom in the Name of Yeshua, Jesus and Chag Purim Sameach—Happy (Purim) Holiday!

Marty, Jenny, Misha and the Goetz/Hoyt Households

My Marty/My Mom: August 13, 2020

‘That’s just my MAZEL!’ went the refrain my mother would frequently utter during her lifetime. It was a uniquely Jewish way to say, ‘Just my luck;’ ‘MAZEL,’ being the Hebrew word for good fortune. When said, by the way, it hardly ever referred to events that turned in one’s favor. The phrase could be used collectively, as in, ‘Just our MAZEL!’ indicating that bad fortune could befall, not only an individual but also a whole family—especially OUR family. It could be applied to the most trivial of circumstances, such as when a party waiting to being seated at a restaurant was seated before ours, even though it was ABUNDANTLY CLEAR to anyone who cared that we were there LONG BEFORE they were!

Often, it was used for more significant things, such as the sudden loss of a lease for ‘Mantel and Goetz Furniture’, the family business begun by my Polish/Jewish immigrant grandfather; an enterprise continued by my father, Albert, and my mother, Florence, the eldest daughter of Elias Mantel and his wife, Lillian, (called Licia; pronounced Lie-sha), who grew up in Poland near her future husband. They all labored tenaciously to keep the business afloat; enduring property damage during the downtown urban unrest in the 1960’s; moving to the suburbs while ‘in the red’ under huge debt; the sudden death of my mother’s father; many hours and long years of hard, frequently frustrating work.

Upon losing the lease, the store conducted a huge ‘Tent Sale,’ liquidating the merchandise and, when all was said and done, the business was FINALLY ‘in the black’! It seemed the perfect time to consider a new and different direction. However—my mom, who highly esteemed her father and was deeply proud of her talented, interior designer husband, found it difficult to let go of the only source of livelihood the family had known. And—indeed—in spite of the ever increasing difficulties of ‘retail,’ the furniture store provided my sister Sandra, my brother Barry, and me a comfortable home in the suburbs, a good education—(both secular and religious)—stylish wardrobes, individual music lessons, regular haircuts and medical checkups, filled cavities, straightened teeth and corrected vision; in other words, we lacked nothing.

So—in spite of changing times and a shifting business environment, my parents opened another store with the same name in a different location. It didn’t end well; (Just our ‘mazel.’) Though, in retrospect, this move was probably ill-advised, I have to admire the ‘fight’ that was in my folks—particularly in my mom. My mother, Florence Mantel Goetz, (known by all as ‘Flo’), was, and had always been, a fighter. According to her, she had to battle constantly for respect in her childhood home against her older brother, Sol. Apparently, he was quite mean to her, calling her a derogatory nickname which implied she was not attractive. (Truthfully, I’m not sure she ever recovered from that sibling derision.) She had some good ‘mazel’ in the form of her younger sister, Annette, (called Nettie.) They were close and remained that way throughout their lives.

My mother was a ‘tomboy,’ loving sports and ‘sporting’ a highly competitive spirit. Most of her life she played golf and tennis, until she had a stroke on the tennis court while in her 70’s! She was smart, a good student at Heights High in Cleveland and a ‘Phi Beta Kappa’ recipient as a graduate of the University of Miami of Ohio. If her later life was any indication, one can only assume she was VERY opinionated. This was a quality that often got her in trouble—(at least, that was my observation.) Unlike my soft-spoken, mild-mannered father, my mother never shied away from an argument, whether it be about family matters or politics. (Incidentally, she was a ‘die-hard’ Democrat.) She could be particularly critical of folks with whom she had grown up who seemed to forget ‘where they came from.’

During the difficult days of the depression, her family had actually been somewhat well off, due to her father’s diligent work as a ‘glazier,’ leading to his entrance into the appliance business. She would tell of the days when her family’s home—and refrigerator—were always open to kids in the neighborhood who were not as fortunate as she. Her folks even had an automobile, giving rides to whomever needed them. My grandmother, who left her own mother—(whom she never saw again after the Holocaust)—to come to this country as a teenager, loved the ‘good things’ of America. In addition to learning English, (replacing her native tongue of Yiddish,) she furnished her home beautifully, dressed elegantly, shopped freely and drove everywhere, (even when her advancing age should have kept her from doing so.)

My mother inherited many of those same qualities and she had, according to her, a nurturing and healthy childhood. She married my dad before the Second World War and, upon his return from Europe, he went into ‘the family business.’ However, as the years went by, others with whom my parents had grown up seemed to prosper, particularly economically, more than my mom and dad did. It was ‘just their mazel’ that they didn’t get the breaks others had. Occasionally she would remind them—to their face—that they, at one time, did not have such good luck. Although my mother was extremely generous, always buying gifts and cards for EVERYONE, uncannily remembering birthdays and anniversaries, she was also heartbroken, I think, over not being able to purchase some of the things her friends—and former friends—could easily afford. It was difficult for her to see her husband have to work so hard and not be rewarded in turn. She fought for him and the business and also for her children.

I recall her anger at one of my math teachers, Mr. Donato, who gave me the only ‘C’ I ever received in school, RUINING my scholastic record—(according to my mom.) I think she would have had him fired, if she could. The mark was deserved, by the way, but—how could ANYONE do that to ‘My Marty!’ Yes—that was my moniker growing up: ‘My Marty.’ Though my mom intensely loved all her children, I think I was the one who brought her the most comfort in a life that was often stressful. (I don’t think my siblings would argue with that.) She would remind me of how, as an infant, I would always reach up to give her a hug before bedtime. (I always felt a little guilty that I found it less easy to be quite as affectionate as an adult.) Apparently, my nickname as a child was ‘the Blob.’ I earned it by my propensity to sit contentedly wherever I was placed, causing trouble to nobody. (I guess this was a welcome personality type for a child born between a rather high-strung older sister and a mischievous younger brother.) My sister was supposed to be the one who was given piano lessons—but I’m the one who took to the instrument. My mom also played and helped me in the early days. She was very proud of me and took every opportunity at family gatherings to ‘show off’ my abilities, requesting the songs she liked to hear—(and reminding me to play more firmly with my right hand.)

I think she fancied her son’s talents to fall somewhere between Beethoven’s and Gershwin’s. In truth, I was quite lazy and not very accomplished—but you could never convince her of that! I also had some talent as an artist. She was ever encouraging me to draw more; advice I would have been wise to heed but often ignored. She always bristled when I didn’t sign my name to something I drew or a painting I did in art class. And I don’t think she ever got over my NOT being selected to the ‘National Honor Society,’ though I was ranked eighth in my class, scholastically. Admittedly, that was quite impressive in a school with predominantly high- achieving, mostly Jewish students. Still—I didn’t ‘make the cut. (She voiced her disappointment—with THEM, not ME, more than periodically).

In addition, for some reason, she imagined that her son must be irresistible to girls. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be with ‘My Marty.’ Even when I married my beautiful wife, Jennifer, at the age of 32, my mother wondered why I was marrying so early. After all, why wouldn’t I want to just ‘play the field?’ (‘OY’ is all I can say to that.) You see, as I’ve said before, my mom thought her son, Marty, ‘hung the moon.’ (Still—she was quick to tell me all the ways I could have hung it a little better!) This intense love for her children carried over to her friends, as well. My mom never met a stranger and would converse with anyone—whether they wanted to or not. When entering any establishment, she was always on the lookout for someone familiar to her. Many were the times we had to wait before exiting a restaurant until she had greeted everyone. In the years when I traveled a lot, she would give me the names of friends in other towns; folks about whom she would say: ‘Why don’t you try to give them a ring?’

Sadly for my dear mom, her affection for others was not always reciprocated.

Many, including family members, found it hard to reason with her when arguments ensued, which frequently happened. She tended to speak loudly and in a less than mellifluous tone. Consequently, though she was appreciated by many and had numerous friends, not everyone enjoyed her company. One lady, named Dottie Drost, dearly loved my mom and truly loved being with her. For some reason, she accepted everything about her and was not put off by some of my mom’s rough edges. Tragically, she passed away quite young—and I think my mom always missed her friendship more than anything in her life.

My mom held on tightly to things that were important to her—and worried about them constantly. To her, worrying was not only a way of life, but a virtue. When she and my dad took me to college, she expressed concern that I would have to cross the street to get from my dorm to my classes.

When all of us kids had moved away from home, she worried about us constantly, often calling to see if we had been affected by a an accident, a storm or any dangerous incident in our respective cities. That was how my mother showed love—-and she displayed it in so many other ways.
She hated to cook but never failed to feed her family, day after day, night after night.

She was decidedly NOT religious like her parents but made sure she drove us to Heights Temple for Hebrew school on weekdays and Sabbath school on Saturdays. Though given to worry, she let her children go away to college, move away from home and, in my case, drift away from the traditions of my ancestors to embrace Yeshua, Jesus. (Well, regarding that final example, she had no choice.)

‘My Marty’ found ‘My Messiah’ in 1978 and ‘My mom’ was never happy about that. Still, though it would have been understandable if she had, she never rejected me. Argued with me? Yes! Rejected me—NO! She would come to my concerts in churches and Messianic congregations, standing proudly when I introduced her and shouting out requests. (‘More than the Watchman’ and ‘Georgia on My Mind’ were here favorites.) Of course, afterward, she would tell everyone who would listen how she couldn’t understand how ‘her Marty’ could believe what he believes—especially when he had HER for a mother! (She REALLY couldn’t believe that a son of hers might vote Republican!)

I was the easy, compliant, straight A student son—(except for that horrible Mr. Donato.) Consequently, the decisions and choices I made in my adult life caused some consternation in hers. (She would often say: ‘Marty—I love you dearly—but you’re not going to convert me!’) However, we always got along well, in spite of our differences. She said so many things that could make you a little crazy and I know I still hear her insistent voice somewhere in my subconscious at all times. Yet, I regret to admit that I find it difficult to recall the exact words of the multitude of pithy statements she made. In the last years of her life, and after the death of my father in 2002, I recorded most of her phone messages, attempting, I guess, to hang on to what I knew was swiftly passing away from my world. She would end those calls with ‘Love, Mom,’ as if she were signing a letter. She would also say: ‘Call me, Marty.’ (She never thought I called her enough and, upon reflection—I think, to my chagrin, I agree with her.)

My mom passed away in 2013 at the age of 93. Mentally, she was super sharp until the end. She could still rattle off memorized phone numbers and could remember where friends and family members lived, though they were scattered all over the globe. Her body parts just kind of wore out and she breathed her last at the Menorah Park Retirement Home, just a stone’s throw from the apartment building in which she lived for many years. My dear, departed mother would have been 100 years old on the day I write this: August 13, 2020. It was ‘just her mazel’ to be born on FRIDAY the 13th, 1920.

Perhaps that birth date tempered the way she viewed the world and her existence in it. Who knows? I would love today to be able to call her more than I need to and have her make me more crazy than I would ever choose to be.

And I do hope against hope—though she never, to my knowledge, said ‘Yes’ to Yeshua—that I will see her again in the ‘world to come.’ Only GOD knows. And God knows that I miss her very much. It was more than my ‘GOOD MAZEL’ to have her as my mom. It was a BLESSING from my Heavenly Father.

Thank you, Lord, for her life and the life you gave me through her.

Love and shalom,
On the 100th Anniversary of the birth of my mom, Florence Mantel Goetz!

Covid to The Cove: August 1, 2020

Shalom, Friends!

I emerged from the midst of the Coronavirus shutdown and Covid quarantine to—once again—hit the road and travel to ‘The Billy Graham Training Center at The Cove.’ This beautiful and peaceful ‘retreat/advance’ center was built by Dr. Graham and his dear wife, Ruth, to be a place of rest and restoration, renewal and revival, re-firing and re-commissioning. It was their dream and desire to provide this ‘sanctuary’ for, not only the ‘saints’ of God but also for anyone who has been, in any way, touched by the life and ministry of the Grahams.

Should you ever have the opportunity to visit or attend a seminar or an event at ‘The Cove,’ you should take it! You will be treated with the utmost care and honor by servants of the Lord who make it their aim to serve you— and the Lord—with prayerfulness, sincerity and excellence. And the teaching is always of the highest order. This past week, I had the privilege of leading the praise and worship for an ‘Intensive Bible Training’ seminar led by a young, brilliant, and devoted Bible scholar named Dr. Alex McFarland. He taught on Daniel and Revelation; light and easy subject matter, to be sure—NOT!

The ‘Covid’ Cove was different this time: the attendees had to sing through masks, we sat far from each other in the dining room and no one hugged or even shook hands—very unusual for a gathering of believers! Still, we heard the Word of God spoken, taught, and preached with skill, passion, and intensity. 

Dr. Alex, (twelve years my junior—but in wisdom and knowledge, my senior), also happens to be hysterically funny, with a love of music, master literary works, and motorcars. Along with the amazing staff of ‘The Cove,’ we all had the best time one could hope for this side of Heaven.

My sojourn here was preceded by three days alone in my home, preparing to venture out into ‘work’ for the first time since mid-March. Jenny was in Austin, Texas, helping Joshua, Misha and Caleb get settled in their newest home. I sensed that the Spirit of the Lord was ‘dealing’ with me about many things. I’m not a ‘crier,’ but I was often on the verge of tears as I spent a lot of time by myself; cleaning and tidying up; making the beds slept in by my daughter and her husband who stayed with us before moving to Texas; putting away all of Caleb’s toys, wondering if he’ll be too grown up to play with them when he comes back to our house. (Sigh.)

When Jenny returns we will enter a new phase of life, as will our one and only daughter and her sweet family. It feels to me as if the next installment of a book series is about to be written. The feeling is bittersweet, to say the least. Jenny and I would covet your prayers as we turn this opening page in the continuing story of our lives. Anyone who knows me is aware that I would—if I could—rewrite quite a few of those previously written volumes. It is not that I am unhappy with or unthankful for all that God has done for me—the greatest thing being His drawing me to His Son, Yeshua, Jesus. That is a miracle for which I will—literally—be eternally grateful. Among these ‘good and perfect’ gifts is my wonderful wife, Jennifer, my darling daughter, Misha, and my ‘son-in-love,’ Joshua. Of course, it goes without saying that our grandson Caleb is the ‘icing’ on that proverbial cake! (There—I said it anyway.)

In addition to all these marvelous and undeserved blessings, He gave me some talent and abilities with which to serve Him, health to be able to exercise those gifts, a life of singing and playing music for, with and among His precious people, and provision and protection for my loved ones and me all along the way!

Cherished friends, special acquaintances and good and true ‘co-laborers in the gospel’ fill up this cornucopia of uncountable blessings my Creator has so graciously and generously given. I can never repay Him for all He has done for—and even through me.

It is simply that I have realized, in no small measure through the events of this past week, that there is something I have not done nearly enough in the midst of all this prodigious generosity of God. That ‘something’ is...REJOICE! Yes, again I say—REJOICE! (Phil. 4:4) Too much of my life has been spent looking back and regretting the past, being harried and distracted in the present and worried and fearful about the future. I’m sure I’m not alone and I’m not too proud to think that this struggle is unique to me. However, I have come to see that, indeed, I am NOT alone! Throughout the struggle, I have had a loving Father in Heaven who has been with me since my beginning. In all that is to come, He will be with me—and loving me—until the end.

To be ‘born again’ and to know, love and serve His Son, Yeshua, is the greatest life imaginable; a life filled with ‘things the angels desire to look into.’ (1Pet.1:12) My biggest regret? I haven’t enjoyed the journey NEARLY enough! Well, through all that has transpired through these strange and challenging Corona/Quarantine/Covid/Cove days, I am determined that this latest volume of my life story—and that of my family—will have a HAPPY ENDING!

I pray for the grace to turn from ‘regretting’ to ‘rejoicing’—and I pray that, as well, for anyone of you who has had a similar life experience. I see now—and finally—that, to paraphrase our forefather Joseph, what the enemy of my soul has meant for evil, the lover of my soul has meant for GOOD! (Gen.50:20)

‘God is good—all the time’ goes the saying. I’m saying it, believing it and living in its reality from now on. (And I will remind myself of this truth when I fail to do so!)

I head back to ‘The Cove’ this week to play music for two seminars; one led by Dr. R.T. Kendall and another by Dr. Steve Brown. I’m certain it will be amazing. And I am sure, as I sit under their teaching, I will be tempted to regret; prone to thinking about all the ways I’ve fallen short of what God intends for my life.

I am sure that the same God who made me will remind me of what I’m writing to you now: REJOICE!

‘Finally, my brethren, Rejoice in the Lord!’ (Phil.3:1)

Well, that’s my ‘story’—and I’m sticking to it!

Thanks for visiting, thanks for listening and thanks for the prayers!

May the Lord bless and keep YOU, make His face to shine upon you and give you PEACE! (Num.6:24-26)

In HIS Shalom,

Marty 

Round and Round: July 22, 2020

‘And the seasons they go round and round 

And the painted ponies go up and down

We’re captive on the carousel of time

We can’t return we can only look

Behind from where we came

And go round and round and round 

In the circle game.’ — Joni Mitchell



The ‘painted ponies’ have arrived and pulled up in front of our house in the form of a rented Budget moving van. In moments, my one and only daughter, Misha, will leave her childhood home, not for the first time, but, perhaps, for the last. She and her husband Joshua, and our grandson, Caleb, will hop on that carousel and ride off—‘up and down’—from Nashville, Tennessee, to a new life together in Austin, Texas.



Jennifer—my ‘ever ready to help’ wife and always caring mom and ‘mom-in-law,’ will go along on the journey. After helping them get settled, she will be returning—(I hope.) The Hoyt household will not—(at least for a while.) Last night, at our ‘House of Worship’ presentation, we sang the afore-quoted, wistful words of Joni Mitchell’s ‘The Circle Game.’ (It was MY request.) I could think of no more moving song to describe my feelings about their imminent move.

When asked to say a few words about his feelings, Joshua—a wordsmith himself—joked wryly: ‘We’re sad to leave and glad to go.’ Understood. We have all, already, seen so many dreams come true. Still-to quote Joni again; 



‘There’ll be new dreams

Maybe better dreams and plenty

Before the last revolving year is through.’



Our ‘son-in-love,’ Joshua, will soon be ‘clerking’ for a well respected, high level, federal appellate judge, studying—(and eventually passing)—his bar exams, becoming an attorney and, in a year’s time, taking a position at a prestigious law firm in Washington, D.C. (Whew—I’m exhausted just writing that!)



Misha will continue to work with us and on her own pursuits. There are ‘dreams’ for new songs, further tours, prospective projects and—Lord willing—a little brother or sister for Caleb! A good part of the preparation for all these amazing opportunities has taken place right here with us, with the love and support of our dear, long-time friends and many of Misha’s childhood companions.



We had three wonderful years in Nashville together. As Jenny, Misha and I attended to ‘Marty Goetz Ministries,’ Joshua studied for his law degree at Vanderbilt Law and Caleb Vincent Hoyt grew from a ‘gurgling’ one year old to a ‘garrulous’ four year old; delighting us—and often wonderfully wearing us out—with each moment and every day of his young and growing life.



There was much laughter, some tears, meals and sleepovers, pre-school for Caleb, projects to complete and celebrations to enjoy, family-led tours to Israel and Spirit-led times of prayer and worship. Admittedly—sometimes—in the midst of travel and work and other obligations, I didn’t fully appreciate the ‘dream come true’ that was happening in our midst; a happy situation not many families get to enjoy.



And now, ‘the years spin by’ and the Hoyt family moves on to the next ‘circle’ of life. (That, by the way, is one of Caleb’s favorite, ‘Lion King inspired’ phrases. I will miss the incessant utterances of that little, loquacious lad.) I will—more than I can even now imagine—miss ALL these children. Should Jenny decide to return from Texas—(kidding)—we will soon be entering an entirely new and unique season of OUR lives.

It seemed for a while that the ‘carousel of time’ was going to continue to revolve here in our town and even under our roof. But—‘the seasons they go round and round’—and, it seems, she and I will be ‘emptier nesters’ than ever before. Misha, Joshua and Caleb are truly beginning life ‘on their own,’ away from family and in completely uncharted territory.

Thankfully, they do have good friends who live in Austin and they are sure to make others. We are believing that, to quote a friend, Austin will be Awesome! With all that is ahead of them—a bright future with new and exciting opportunities, adventures and relationships—it falls to us who have seen ‘the years spin by’ and dreams that ‘have lost some grandeur coming true,’ to tell them:

‘...take your time it won’t be long now - Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down.’



In my wife’s youth, she got to know Joni Mitchell, traveling with her on Bob Dylan’s ‘Rolling Thunder Revue’—in the days when ‘the cart wheels’ were turning to ‘car wheels’ in Jennifer’s ‘town.’ As for me, I’m grateful for her old pal’s poetry to help give voice to what we are now experiencing. And as for Jenny and me:



‘We can’t return we can only look

Behind from where we came

And go round and round and round

In the Circle Game.’ 



You’ll have to forgive this ol’ Dad and ‘Papa’ for being a bit sad, weepy and ‘verklempt’ about what is now happening in our world. And I hope you’ll allow me one final thought.



Life with—and in God—is NOT a circle; it’s a straight line. Our days move inexorably toward the horizon line of the purpose and destiny He has for each of us. In the end, we don’t simply go ‘round and round.’ We ‘fix’ our eyes on the Lord and ‘run with endurance the race that is set before us.’ I humbly ask for your prayers for the Hoyt household as they continue to look to Yeshua (Jesus) and run their race. I covet, as well, your prayers for (what remains of) the Goetz household as we stay behind and cheer them on!

Farewell, little family! We love you kids and—remember—as the seasons go ‘round and round,’—I’ll be watching to see if the ‘painted ponies’ bring you back home. (That goes for you, too, Jenny)



Shalom and Traveling Mercies,

    - Marty 

A Great Man - July 8, 2020

In the midst of arguments regarding the pulling down and putting up of statues and the relative greatness and weakness of individual men and women, I want to pay tribute to a man who would have been 100 years old today. He was born July 8, 1920 in Cleveland, Ohio to a man named Saul and a woman named Sarah; a Jewish couple of extremely modest means. Poor, to be exact. As a young boy, barely entering puberty, he was already at work, helping support two younger brothers and a mother, left mostly alone due to the mental illness of his father, which required being institutionalized. During the Great Depression he was constantly at work, helping his uncle stock the concession stands at train stations, sports arenas and other public spaces, always remaining available to his family for whatever were their needs.

Somehow, through all this, he taught himself to dance and sing. He performed at several local ‘clubs’ with questionable clientele-(due to his uncle’s ‘connections’)- and even won contests, once earning himself a suit he could never have afforded to buy. In spite of his being handsome, smart, gifted and well-liked by all who knew him, he could only attend two years of college, returning home to—once again—work for the good of his loved ones. He survived the Depression, fighting for his family, only to be called—as was most of his generation—to fight for his country against fascism, Nazism and Imperial Japan. (No small feat for a 22 year old kid.)

He served in France and, when the war had been won, spent many months in rehabilitation to recover from a case of hepatitis. This demanded further separation from his wife, Florence, whom he had married before heading off to Europe to help save civilization! Upon return, he went back to work, this time for his father-in-law, a Polish born immigrant who had built an appliance business which would later expand into a furniture store in downtown Cleveland. It was an enterprise in which he would eventually become a partner—and a talented, self-taught, well respected interior designer.

He labored every day—as he always did—to support his wife, build a modest, modern home in the suburbs and raise his three children. Through his tireless effort and good example, they were all clothed and fed, given a good education, music lessons and religious instruction; they had their teeth fixed and their vision corrected; they were loved on, cared for and encouraged. They all, eventually, graduated high school and college and were given a head start on the American dream he had fought for and sought to provide. If he had a fault, it was his stubborn commitment to hard work and unrelenting dedication to being a ‘bread winner’ that demanded his spending more hours at the store than at home. Many a night the family started dinner without him, waiting for him to come to the table, often exhausted and frustrated from the ‘rigors of retail.’

These circumstances were made even worse by the deteriorating urban environment of downtown Cleveland to which he commuted from the suburbs every day. During a time of civil unrest, not unlike the days in which we now find ourselves, he would be awakened in the middle of the night, having to drive to the city because the ‘Hough riots’ had resulted in property damage and broken windows at the store. Things went from bad to worse due, not only to the worsening situation in the neighborhood but also to the changing circumstances in the world of commerce. Soon their small family business was in debt and, by the time they relocated to the suburbs, their survival was questionable.

There were nights this unselfish, hard working man cried himself to sleep, worried about the welfare of his wife and children, a concern compounded by the failing health of his mother who also depended on him for support. He managed, through great effort and tireless dedication, to save the store, becoming sole owner after the death of his father-in-law, to whom he was not merely a partner but, in fact, a son. Unfortunately, the loss of a lease which required moving to a less desirable location, did not bode well for the enterprise. The business declared bankruptcy and had to close. In his remaining years, he worked for other furniture stores, always admired and respected by his colleagues and his customers.

He found himself without a job when the business for which he worked suffered the same fate as his own. Still, he never gave up or gave in, still struggling and striving, seeking for employment, sending his resume and going for interviews, even into his eighties! One such meeting went very well and he celebrated over dinner with his wife of 50 years, hoping to soon get back to work. He suffered a stroke that night and passed away two days later at the age of 82.

During the ‘sitting of shiva,’ a seven day mourning period where family and friends gather in the home of the deceased to honor and remember them, a call came in from the furniture store which had conducted the last interview: he had gotten the job! This was good news at a very sad time—the closest thing to a ‘happy ending’ to a life well-lived. Besides the loving wife and children he left behind, he also left behind a legacy of caring and kindness, selflessness and generosity, honesty and integrity.

Proverbs 22:1 reads: ‘A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches. Loving favor rather than silver and gold.’

At his funeral, everyone who knew and loved him spoke of him in ways that attested to that truth being applicable to him and the exemplary way he lived.

He wasn’t perfect, wasn’t famous and will never have a statue erected in his honor. He wasn’t a financial success but was, nevertheless, unquestionably successful.

He never cheated, always treated everyone, regardless of color, creed or status, with courtesy and respect, went the second mile to please his customers and, when they chose to take their business elsewhere, held no resentment toward them.

He would stop at nothing to care for, not only his own household, but also for any one of his friends or members of his extended family. He was a faithful husband, a dutiful neighbor, a good citizen, an upstanding member of his synagogue and community and, yes—a great man.

His name was Albert Erwin Goetz.He was my father.

I am not nearly the man he was and I greatly miss him—and hope to see him again. Truth be told and, though it makes me sad to say it, I don’t know if I will see him in ‘the world to come.’ I do know that, in this world, I am most blessed, honored and grateful to have been his son.

God bless you, Dad, on this—the 100th anniversary of your birth.

Love and shalom to you all...

...and thanks for letting me share.

Marty (second child of Albert) Goetz