The journey of religious discovery took a different turn for Israeli-born Aviad Cohen. Better known by the moniker 50 Shekel, the self-proclaimed King of Heeb Hop, Cohen made a living as a sort of Jewish alter-ego of 50 Cent. He took on the character while living in New York amid post-September 11th religious tension.

“I was like, nobody’s representin,’” so he found a way to be a proud Jew who appeals to a G-Unit loving generation. Jewish religious leaders and the Jewish hip-hop community immediately embraced him. He made a name for himself in a short time, getting mentioned in the same breath as Jewish hip-hop artists who had been in the game much longer: Y-Love, Hip Hop Hoodios, Ill Bill, MC Paul Barman. He would get paid rock star cash for ten-minute appearances at rich kids’ bas mitzvahs. And while one might think wearing a massive star of David in homage to a blingin’ number fifty would be the impetus for a musical identity crisis, Cohen had a religious one instead.

“I’m a Jew and I came to Yeshua,” Cohen explains. Yeshua for those not familiar is the Hebrew name for Jesus, though Cohen pleads, “don’t call me a Jew for Jesus. Call me a Messianic Jew; call me a true Jew,” and you can even call him a Christian. Cohen’s belief is that while there are Jews and Gentiles, the “true” Jewish faith is in adherence to the teachings of Christ, in a holistic consumption of both books of the bibl and irreverence for the Talmud, books of Kabbalah, or other texts not directly G-D given, according to scripture, at least.

While the cover of his album tags him The Artist Formerly Known as 50 Shekel, there is little association, musically or ideologically, with his former self. “I’m not in this for entertainment, I’m here to praise god. I make electronic music, I make hip-hop, whatever G-d wants me to make,” Cohen explains. “I listen to Paul Oakenfold, Lasgo, DJ Sammy, and Dave McCullen. They’re all big influences,” remarks Cohen, no doubt contributing to Oakenfold’s own pre-existing messianic complex.

The Oakenfold influence (make your own judgments) can be heard on Cohen’s latest album, Hooked on the Truth, self-produced and released on his own Hebrew Homie Records. In conversation, Cohen inserts the word “Jew” infixatively into words whenever possible (i.e. sit-jew-ation) and talks loquaciously on the merits of scripture versus Talmud. Naturally, he’s been the target of attacks by the Jewish community-hip-hop and otherwise-who see Cohen as a traitor, and have made no bones about it on message boars, in the Jewish press, and even through some minor property damage to Cohen’s Los Angeles-area home. This hasn’t stopped him from being something of a s##t –stirrer.

“I’m not here to criticize,” Cohen claims, “but Matisyahu says, “I found religion,’ but you should be saying ‘I found G-d.’ What’s religion? I know Y-Love. Nice guy! I’m not going to judge him because I don’t know what he thinks about me walking in truth. I know these people. Maybe these other Jewish rappers aren’t there yet. I’ve been there, and G-d has pulled me out of that and said, you know, ‘Avi, I want you to know me and I want you to share my truth with the world,’ and I’m like, ‘you got it.’ Or as I say, “Jew got it.’”

One gets the sense from talking to Cohen that he’s prosthelytizing, and as a Messianic Jew, he’s not bound by traditional tenets of Judaism that teach against missionary0style tactics. As for Y-Love, he brushes off such indirect criticism with the same bemusement that he does the concept of being a Jewish missionary. “I’ve spent many years in Christian churches. I’ve learned more about Judaism and found it to be encompassing of what all the world religions espouse as truth.”

Jerusalem Post Interview
King of Heeb Hop Leaves The Fold
Reporter: Kelly Hartog
August 3, 2005

Less than 24 hours after my interview with 50 Shekel at a Hollywood studio, I receive a call from a guy named Avi. I scan my memory, but draw a blank. "Aviad," he insists. "Aviad Cohen. 50 Shekel?" "Oh, right, why didn't you say so?"

"Well our conversation was so intense yesterday, and it got me to thinking, and I've decided that I'm no longer going by the name 50 Shekel. I'm returning to Aviad Cohen."

So serious is he about this change that he informs me he has posted it on his Web site. Sure enough, Cohen writes of "an intense interview with a journalist from The Jerusalem Post, and how it has made him rethink the name he will go by."

The reason for this change of heart?

"I'm here to serve God. My life is not a parody."

The "parody" to which Cohen refers is the pun on American rapper 50 Cent. Cohen burst onto the Jewish rap scene with his spoof on the name and 50 Cent's song "In Da Club." Only of course, 50 Shekel's version was "In Da Shul."

But that was then (2003), and this is now. Now he's turning his back on both the moniker and the music that launched his career, because he has found God.

And it's not the Orthodox Jewish God that Cohen was born and raised with; it's, in his words - "God's truth."

He eschews religious terms.

"What's 'Jewish' mean?' he scoffs, spitting out the word. For Cohen, it's all about God's truth, and for him that's the knowledge that the Messiah is in fact "Yeshua." Cohen refuses to use the term "Jesus Christ" in much the same way he refuses to call himself a "Jew for Jesus." But he is adamant that both the Old Testament (the Tanach), and the New Testament (Brit Hadasha) provide all the answers one will ever need to know God's truth.

"That's what it's called," Cohen insists when I mention I've never heard the term Brit Hadasha. "It's the new covenant," he assures me. "And I can put you in touch with people who can talk to you about it."

In the nine short months that have passed since Cohen's discovery of the "truth," the 30-year-old, Israeli born, New York-raised man who was once lauded by the Jewish and non-Jewish press alike for his innovative lyrics and fun style; the guy who was a hit on the US bar mitzva circuit and with Jewish youth organizations, is now receiving a whole barrage of negative press as a result of his "conversion."

But like many who have discovered "the truth," he pooh-poohs any notion that he may have alienated his initial audience.

"There are fans who as a result of my discovering God's truth are now contacting Jews for Jesus and asking questions. They're interested and want to know more."

Cohen is nothing if not intriguing. He's an extraordinarily young 30, particularly in his looks. He has baby-soft skin, dark, brooding eyes and a thick head of jet-black hair. Small and slight, you get the sense he wouldn't last 30 seconds in the whole rap/gangsta scene. In fact, he looks like he'd be hard pressed to win a thumb-wrestling match. Despite his rapper persona, there's something about this soft-spoken young man that makes you want to reach out and give him a big hug.

It's hard to pin him down on exactly where and when, and in fact who "converted" this former yeshiva boy. The best he will offer at the outset is that "something unkosher went down in my life with the people I was dealing with, and I don't really want to talk about it." His huge chocolate brown eyes widen as if he has just revealed an incredibly intimate tidbit, whereas it doesn't take much to recognize that Cohen wouldn't be the first guy to discover that an excess of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll can leave you feeling hollow and empty.

WHAT'S INTRIGUING about Cohen isn't the fact that he's decided to leap off the Judaic path (although he would deny this vehemently and declare that he is indeed a Jew), it's the hows, whys and wherefores of his shift. Over the course of the interview, Cohen loosens up, and some major grievances come to the fore.

When asked about his education, he speaks of his day school and yeshiva upbringing.

"I would say the majority of the rabbis overall were rude, condescending and patronizing. But I'm not bitter," he adds hastily. "I'm just being objective. [The rabbis] miseducated me, so I had to educate myself."

Apparently that "education" took the form of reading the King James Bible and talking to friends and "believers."

"Being a Jew is a responsibility," he explains earnestly. "We're supposed to be a light unto the gentiles. Everyone wants the icing on the cake, but no one wants the cake itself. And the cake is God and His word and His Salvation." Q.E.D.

And as a "believer," Cohen feels a genuine responsibility to use his music to influence others to learn God's truth. Politely, I point out that proselytizing is forbidden by Jewish law.

"I was proselytized by rabbis to believe in Judaism," Cohen counters. "I've been proselytized (sic) since I was born. Now I've accepted God's truth, so how can that be proselytizing if I'm sharing the truth? I'm not BS-ing," he states, implying the rabbis are.

For those Jews who scoff at him, Cohen's response is "Dude, do your homework. Read the Brit Hadasha. Don't come and kvetch at me. It's not my fault Jesus is the Jewish Messiah."

"I was robbed of the Truth," he states emphatically, "and what's worse, my parents paid for my education."

Indeed, his family history is a sore point. He reveals that his grandparents were Holocaust survivors, saved by God-fearing, Bible-believing Christians. "If it wasn't for those people, my grandparents would have been slaughtered by the Nazis and I wouldn't be here today. So guess what? God wanted to send me a message through Christians that Jesus was the Messiah."

Did Cohen change my views? Nope. Did I change his? Unlikely.

But if you go to his Web site, www.50shekel.com, what you won't see is the following: An opening declarative statement that "Jew pride is pass . God's truth is the only way." Nor will you see a comment declaring, "The Passion was the greatest Jewish movie ever made," or a passage from John (Yochanan as Cohen calls him) declaring that the Jews were responsible for the death of Jesus.

These were all issues that I raised in the interview, and which were not answered very well. They're now gone from the web site, and perhaps from Cohen's mind. His constant musings on God's truth don't appear to be cut and dry, but as far as this interview goes, Cohen is content to say he'll continue to make music, secure in the knowledge that "God is the shot caller; I'm just a guy working for him."

AMERICAN JEWISH LIFE

Musical Notes
A look at a classical violinist with a pitch-perfect name, Ms. Winehouse, Mr. Y Love, Heedhoosh, the klezmer band from Cracow, Mickey Avalon and the artist formerly known as 50 Shekel.

Aviad Cohen: Hooked on the Truth

The artist formally known as 50 Shekel shocked the religious world when he abandoned traditional Judaism and became a card carrying member of Jews for Jesus. Now he finally has an album documenting his change of heart, and it’s a surprisingly powerful musical document. At times it becomes preachy, the conversion-bias of J4J showing. Other times, though, it’s a gospel hip-hop album following in the heavy footsteps of DMX. His autobiographical tracks (“Hooked on the Truth”) feel as raw and pained as an exposed nerve. He’s a world away from his 50 Cent parody persona. It’s a shame he had to leave traditional Judaism to do it.

CD reviewed and article written by Mordechai Shinefield