Lessons in Resilience and Faith from a Boxing Legend
George Foreman, the two-time world heavyweight boxing champion, Olympic gold medalist, preacher, and global entrepreneur, passed away on March 21 at the age of 76. While the world will remember him for his unmatched power in the ring and for revolutionizing countertop cooking, there was far more to Foreman’s story—one of deep personal growth, spiritual awakening, and a humility that quietly echoed values familiar to our Torah-true lifestyle.
Foreman’s early years were far from glamorous. Born in Marshall, Texas, in 1949 and raised in Houston’s rough Fifth Ward, he dropped out of school and found himself on the wrong side of the law. But through the Job Corps—a government program for disadvantaged youth—he discovered boxing and, with it, a new sense of purpose. By 19, he had won a gold medal at the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City. Five years later, he stunned the world by defeating Joe Frazier to become the heavyweight champion. His dominance was undeniable—until 1974, when Muhammad Ali famously outsmarted and outlasted him in the “Rumble in the Jungle.”
What came next, however, was the real fight—and, ultimately, Foreman’s greatest triumph. In 1977, after a grueling match and a physical collapse in the locker room, Foreman had a spiritual awakening. He believed he saw death and cried out to G-d. That moment changed his life. He walked away from boxing at the peak of his fame and devoted himself to ministry, mentoring youth, and sharing a message of love and faith. His journey of personal return and inner elevation bears a striking resemblance with teshuvah—the idea that no matter how far one may drift, it is always possible to return stronger and more complete.
In 2016, Foreman traveled to Meppen, Germany, as a guest of honor at the 29th World Championship for German Shepherds. While there, he publicly thanked German youth for standing up against racism and praised the country for its compassion in welcoming refugees. He also visited a Holocaust memorial wall bearing the names of Nazi concentration camps—a moment that clearly moved him deeply. Years later, in 2022, he posted a photo from that visit with a raw and heartfelt caption: “This photo still causes me to weep. A revisit helps me. I repeat the song all the time ‘I Will Always Love You.’” Those words revealed a side of Foreman not often seen in the public eye—a man stirred by memory, history, and the pain of others.
Though not Jewish, George Foreman lived a life rooted in values that resonate deeply amongst Orthodox Jews: emunah, strength in adversity, compassion for others, and a sincere desire to make the world better—the enduring call of tikkun olam—repairing what is broken by starting with ourselves.
It is worth noting that Yuri Foreman—no relation—is a world champion boxer in his own right, and an ordained Orthodox rabbi. While their paths and beliefs were different, Yuri once cited a quote by George that struck a chord: “All a boxer can do is answer the bell,” tying that to Jews through the ages. “Through history, Jews have been knocked down. Displaced. Yet, despite this, we are always coming back. Our existence is proof of G-d because despite going through hell, we are still here.” Yuri's reflection concretely blends George Foreman’s resilience with the enduring perseverance of the am Yisrael.
Of course, George Foreman is also fondly remembered for his unlikely second act—as the face of the George Foreman Grill. That small countertop appliance, introduced in the 1990s, became a household staple across the globe—including in my own home right here in Queens. Since high school, I have grilled more than my fair share of chicken tenders on that machine. But beyond the convenience, it stands as a symbol of his reinvention—turning strength into service, and power into purpose.
George Foreman was knocked down more than once in life—but every time, he got back up. He returned with humility, vision, and an even bigger heart. His legacy is not just in titles or product sales—it is in the way he chose to live with religion at the core after the applause faded.
May his memory be for a blessing—and may we, too, answer the bell.
By Shabsie Saphirstein
