Fleeing native Iran, a would-be convert to Judaism gets new start in NYC

The Times of Israel 

NEW YORK — William Mehrvarz touched down at JFK International Airport on November 9, 2017, with one suitcase and $200 in his pocket.

Inside the suitcase, a Hebrew prayer book, a kippa, and a Hanukkah menorah were nestled between his hastily packed clothes. Ordinary in design, the objects were remarkable for what they represented — the 25-year-old’s dream to live openly as a Jew.

The twist: Mehrvarz was born Muslim in Iran.

“Nobody wakes up one day and says, ‘I’m going to leave my country forever. I’m going to leave my family and I’m going to start over,’” Mehrvarz told The Times of Israel over coffee inside a SoHo café.

But that’s exactly what he did over fears of being charged with apostasy for converting to Judaism. Under Iranian law a Muslim who leaves his faith or converts to another religion can potentially face the death penalty.

While his future in the United States is uncertain — his asylum case likely won’t be heard until 2020 — Mehrvarz said he feels he can breathe for the first time in his life.

“New York is a tough city, but you can also start over here,” Mehrvarz said.

Mehrvarz is two months shy of finishing conversion classes at the Conservative Town and Village Synagogue in the Lower East Side. Enrolled in Columbia University’s School of General Studies, he’s working toward a degree in human rights, one class at a time. And like many New Yorkers, he’s developed a love-hate relationship with the subway.

With a job interview scheduled for later today, Mehrvarz, who currently has temporary protected status in the US, was nattily dressed in a navy pinstripe suit, pink and white plaid shirt and floral tie. Every so often, while telling his story, he fiddled with his silver bracelet sporting a hamsa — a talisman used throughout the Middle East for good luck.

When Mehrvarz was born his lawyer parents named him Reza (contentment) and assumed he’d grow up to be, if not devout, at least respectful of, and satisfied with, his religion.

And for a time we was — until as a 13 year old he went to a camp in northern Iran for children of Iran-Iraq War veterans. There he befriended an Armenian Christian boy, whose name Mehrvarz withheld to protect his identity. The boy let Mehrvarz read his Farsi-language Bible.

The New Testament was as unfamiliar to him as many of the pop culture references he now regularly encounters living here as a refugee. By contrast, having grown up knowing about Jews and their connection to the Old Testament, its stories felt familiar. At summer’s end he shared his newfound knowledge with his father.

This Hanukkah menorah was one of the few things William Mehrvarz took with him when he left Iran. (Courtesy: William Mehrvarz)
“I thought he would be happy with my discovery. He was not. In the beginning he was confused by my questions, later he was angry,” Mehrvarz said.

His father’s anger didn’t quell his desire to learn more. In fact, it only piqued his interest in Judaism. Mehrvarz used a VPN, virtual private network, to circumvent Iranian censorship laws to get information.

His persistent inquisitiveness upset his teachers and parents. First his father sought advice from some mullahs he knew. Finally his parents committed him to a short-term psychiatric hospital at age 15.

“Three men came into my room and dragged me out. It was horrible. Psychiatrists kept asking me why I thought I was Jewish, why I was behaving this way,” he said. “I learned to keep my mouth shut and after two weeks I was let out. I started pretending I was an observant Muslim. Only my closest cousins and friends knew the truth.” >>>