I actually feel more connected now than when I was going through the
process.
I have a really solid group of East Bay friends and another group
in SF. I am involved in non-profit work, attend services all over the bay
area and still keep in contact with the first couple of people I met at the
very beginning of all this (thanks again for setting me up with them Dawn!).
I didn't know anyone Jewish at the start. For the bulk of it, I wasn't
dating anyone. The congregation where my Rabbi was affiliated was much, much
older. I combated it by going to everything. I joined every email list I
could find and just started attending events. All different kinds - learning,
volunteering, purely social. You name it, and I was likely there.
It wasn't long before I had created real relationships with people and I feel really
connected to the community. It helped me determine where I fit, where I
wasn't as comfortable, and I feel more connected to Judaism today than when
I was studying for conversion. It was the most uncomfortable situation I had
put myself in (walking into a room where I don't know anyone is terrifying
to me), but it was the best. Not only did it help cultivate my community and
identity, it actually helped me get over that fear of not knowing people and
doing things alone.
The best recommendation for being connected is to join a synagogue community, which is likely to happen anyway. Even if you don't actually join in a monetary-paying sense you should frequent the schul enough to be considered "a regular." I see two sides of synagogue life, services and other activities. Attend services on a somewhat regular basis, such as at least once a month. For other activities, get involved with a number of projects for a year or two till you settle on what works for you. (Non-paying membership may, of course, limit what you can be involved with depending on the community.)
In my case, I joined the Outreach committee, then I moved on to the Israel Education Committee, and meanwhile got involved with the weekly e-mail and bulletin proof-reading. After a couple of years I determined that doing the proofing at home works for me well whereas on-site meetings don't, so I gave up the committee work. One good idea is to ask your schul office about volunteering on a regular or at least semi-regular basis, preferably at the synagogue itself where they will be working alongside other members. Doing a schul-related project will get you in the door so to speak.
Most synagogues have a Saturday morning Torah study. Attendance will increase learning but more importantly from the newbie point of view, it creates a social connection with other members. Being recognized by other members at subsequent events gives a great sense of belonging. Signing up for beginning Hebrew at Lehrhaus is another great connection-creator.
In terms on non-synagogue life: get involved in other Jewish-related organizations, even if it's only a virtual connection via e-mail/web. In my case, I've made donations to the JNF so I get brochures and e-mails from them in return, which creates a sense of connection. I'm also a member of AIPAC and have attended events. I've done the occasional thing with the East Bay Federation. If a new Jew attended one Jewish-related event say every couple of months (outside of synagogue stuff) then he/she may eventually hit on something that sticks for more frequent involvement, and in the meantime will feel connected to the Jewish community by virtue of attendance.
There is also what you might calls add-ons: my e-mail address is my Hebrew name, and my car license plate is personalized to be part of my Hebrew name. These are "constant connections" for me. Also shopping: find a Judaica store like Afikomen in Berkeley or the shop at the Contemporary Jewish Museum in SF.
A very easy way to learn about what is going on in the Jewish community is to sign up for emails. Start with your synagogue, then consider signing up for your local Jewish community center and Lehrhaus Judaica.
If you want to subscribe to a national email try JTA or The Jewish Forward.
Consider volunteer opportunities - Jewish Family & Children's Services or Progressive Jewish Alliance.
Like the outdoors? Look into Wilderness Torah and Urban Adama.
Other fun Jewish venues are the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival and the Contra Costa Jewish Film Festival. There's the Magnes Museum in Berkeley and the Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco.
We asked our Jews by Choice readers how they picked their Hebrew names. Here are several answers. We love these stories!
I always thought I'd pick Ezra. I have always been inspired and gotten chills when I think about the impact that he had on Judaism, starting to read the Torah publicly in the midst of a Jerusalem being rebuilt. But my son really liked that name so I went back and looked for another one and opted for Yohanan. For the last 450 years a somewhat similar name (Johan) has been in my family for men (alternating with Jacob from generation to generation) and I felt it was a good way to link my family history with our Jewish future.
I have to laugh when I think about how I chose my Hebrew name. I read a book (I do not now remember which) that said that "all female converts" take the name Ruth. So when my rabbi asked me what name I wanted, I said, "Ruth." He said, "Great choice!" and I thought "Whew, I passed the test!" After my conversion, I found out that I had had a choice! I thought about changing the name, and thought about at all the names I might pick. Eventually, though, I realized that Ruth was the name I would have chosen all along. The Biblical Ruth is my role model: a woman who transforms her own life and the lives of those around her with kindness and good will.
I had no idea how to give myself a Hebrew name. I think I saw a limited list in an Anita Diamant book, and looked through them. I suddenly had the idea to name myself after my mother. Mom died 8 years before, and her Christian religion was very important to her. It may sound like crazy logic, but I named myself after her - Chava for Eve - in order to honor her even though I knew she would have disapproved.
This is a topic I love, since I love names and their origins and sounds. My Hebrew name is Eliezer Shalev. While quite often a Hebrew name is just one name, I chose a two-name combination, for two reasons. (1) Eliezer is a Biblical name, which means G-d's (El) helper (ezer); I've also seen it translated as G-d is my helper. I like this name for both its meaning and how it sounds. (2) Shalev is a modern Israeli name, somehow morphed out of shalom, all aspects of which I relate to. So the two-name combination bridges the ancient and the modern, the span of Jewish history as it were, and the two names sound good together to my ear. It's something I enjoyed discussing with my converting advisor, Rabbi Chester. It took me months to work it out.
Rabbi Adar posted a column on her website entitled, "5 Things to Do If You Want to Become a Jew."
There's a period of circling -- you think about conversion, maybe you read or look online to learn more about Judaism. Then there's a moment when you decided, yes, this is for me. What is the first thing that you did once you decided?
There are many ways that I could describe my identity, but two of the first things that come to mind are Conservative Jew and queer. The Jewish part takes some explaining, considering that I was raised Buddhist by ex-Christian parents. I was raised with Buddhist philosophy as the basis of my spiritual understanding of the world, but my parents never insisted that I seriously practice Buddhism.
There were aspects of Buddhism that rang true for me, but the practice was never fulfilling. I spent a few years in college dabbling in religious exploration, but never with much seriousness. When I did try to engage in serious Buddhist practice again, many years later, I realized that the thing I was always missing was a sense of community. My Buddhist practice had always felt intensely individual and isolated, without a connection to other people (even when I was practicing in a room with hundreds of people).
I found the sense of community I craved in Judaism, but I took a long path to get there. While I was in college I studied Judaism academically, I had a Jewish roommate and kept a kosher kitchen for a year, and I succeeded in getting Hillel (the campus Jewish organization) to partner regularly with Queers and Allies of Faith, an organization a friend and I started. But I never really learned the different ways that Jewish people practice their Judaism, and all the different things that it could mean to them.Fast forwards a few years - I moved to Reno, NV for grad school. I left behind my friends and everything I knew, and moved to a small, conservative city. I was desperate for community, and got involved with the Queer Student Union. Because there was such a small progressive movement on campus, the QSU shared quite a few members with Hillel. I ended up going to a lot of Hillel events, and making a lot of friends who had strong feelings about their Judaism and were willing to tell me why. Some of it was good, some of it was bad, and all of it was passionate. One of the things that impressed me most was the sense of connection to being Jewish that my friends expressed. Love it or hate it, they were all a part of the Jewish community.
After two years in Reno I moved to Berkeley, again for grad school, and again I was looking for community. This time I tried something new - I went to a synagogue. I had enjoyed hanging out with the Jews in Reno and participating in holidays and shabbat, so why not see what Judaism was like on a more regular basis. I quickly fell in love with my synagogue, and attended services regularly. I took classes on Judaism and made a bunch of friends there. I had finally found my religious home, but at that point I didn’t really think I could be Jewish; I always thought I would be an outsider. I knew conversion was a possibility, but decided I couldn’t convert unless I found a nice Jewish girl to marry. Time went on without me finding a nice Jewish girl, and I remained non-Jewish. At a certain point I realized that, no matter what, I was going to have kids, and I was going to raise my kids Jewish. Period. Then I decided that I should probably convert before having kids, because it’s just easier that way. So I called up my rabbi and started the conversion process.
My two biggest concerns were how he would feel about a queer person converting (he didn’t care) and how he would react to me not believing in God (I think he was excited, it gave us lots to talk about). Since I was already actively engaged in my synagogue, and had been for over a year, my conversion was relatively quick.About a year after I converted I started dating my nice Jewish girl, and (as one would expect with queer women) we quickly got engaged and planned our wedding. We had a big, traditional Jewish wedding with our rabbi officiating. For me, one of the happiest parts of the whole wedding process was our aufruf. The day before the wedding my wife and I shared an aliyah during services, I read from the Torah for the first time, and my wife led Musaf and gave the drash. We had friends and family there supporting us. But the most amazing part of all of that was how happy everyone in our congregation was. They all know us and love us and support us, and were so happy to see us doing what all the other sickeningly cute couples in love do. I almost burst with happiness, being surrounded by friends and family and the community I had always hoped to find.
Unfortunately, my wife and I had to move away from the Bay Area. We moved to Sacramento about six months ago, and haven’t been able to find a Jewish community here in which we feel at home. The first time we walked into the Conservative shul, holding hands because we always hold hands, a the few people we passed glared at us and ignored us when we said hello. That made me much more wary of the Jewish community in my new town, unfortunately. We’re still trying to find our place here, and I’m trying to figure out how to be Jewish in a way that fulfills me without being embedded in the strong community I love.
Answer #1: What changed the most is that I am now part of something much larger than myself: I am part of the Jewish People, for better and for worse. Honestly, nearly everything about my life changed, but not all at once. I am the same person I was before but my relationship to most of my world has changed dramatically.
Conversion to Judaism was like finding a lost part of myself, and it took time for all the pieces to come together -- really, they are still coming together, because Judaism well lived is a lifetime journey. Sure, my eating habits changed and my Saturdays are different, but the deeper changes came in the ways I relate to other people and even to myself.
Periodically something I read or a sermon I hear will cause me to examine the way in which I live a certain mitzvah. For instance, after hearing a sermon I decided that I needed to take better care of my body, which led to changes in my eating and exercise. I am a "conflict avoider" but I know I am commanded to make peace -- genuine peace, not fake peace! -- so I am much more likely to deal with problems than in the past.
I worry about different things: I am very careful not to embarrass anyone. That was not on my radar twenty years ago! All these changes have made me a happier person. I knew I wanted to be a Jew; I did not realize, going in, how much it would challenge me and how rewarding the changes would be.
I have received much, much more than I have given up, but in truth, there are some things that will always be a bit of an effort for me. (I miss pork -- ridiculous but true.)
However, I've never been sorry that I came home to Judaism, not for a moment.
Answer #2: I would say to this woman very seriously that her life will change no more and no less than she wants it to. Becoming Jewish is like coming home - it's not a matter of pushing yourself to look like someone else, it's a matter of growing so that you can look like *you*, so you can find that sweet spot where you are the person you know you were meant to be. I find that idea makes the superficial outside changes (will I keep kosher, will I cover my hair, what-have-you), so much less scary. Because *you* are in control, it's not change being forced on you. And it's not an on-off switch, your life can look as different or as similar as you want, and each day you can choose something new.
Answer #3: Since my conversion and bar mitzvah, my life has changed in several ways. I find myself thinking as if I have always been Jewish. I may not have the cultural experiences that born Jews have, but my soul seems Jewish to me. When I read passages from Torah, the stories are from my family history. Sarah is my mother. Abraham is my father. Israel is my home. I feel intimately connected to the stories. Before my conversion, I was a "ger". A stranger on the outside looking in. Also, when I look at life, I look at it from a Jewish perspective. "Oy" is an essential part of my personal vocabulary.
In my daily life, I attempt to keep as kosher as my life situation allows. I don't eat meat (from mammals) with dairy and I use separate plates when eating dairy. I find myself looking at what I eat and consciously deciding if it is "fit" for my consumption. I tend to lean towards the "eco-kosher" movement. Not only do I want to avoid eating things Torah doesn't permit, I want to support agricultural systems that are sustainable and humane.
Since my bar mitzvah, I have taken to wearing a kippah all the time--even at work. This has been the biggest impact in my life. It identifies me publicly as a Jew and thus makes me more conscious of my conduct. I want my actions to reflect positively upon the community. One wonderful thing about being visibly Jewish is that it invites curious people to learn about Judaism and its people. I see those invitations to be teachable moments where misunderstandings can be cleared up and people's horizons to be broadened. Even in my own family, my relatives ask questions about what it means to me to be Jewish. I wouldn't say that I'm perfectly Jewish, but I'm working on it.
This video on YouTube is from Kate, who had a Conservative conversion in Berkeley.
This is another video from our LGBTQ and Converting Panel. Scott tells his story.
by LJ, a female Reform convert
I can’t say with any honesty that Judaism sprang from a single thought in my head. Rather, it took time to see that it just may be the answer to many issues in my life.
I had just recovered from cancer, Stage 2 colon cancer. As anyone who has had cancer can tell you, you never get rid of it. Even if every speck has been removed from your body, you think about it. It’s with you always. You wonder how many years you might have left, years of productive life.
A year after my colon surgery, I retired from a career that had consumed 33 years of my life. I poured my heart and soul into that job, into working with those people, and now, due to my own choice, it had all been ripped from me. I had nowhere to go in the mornings. I had no social life. Sure, I had friends, but there were few that weren’t part of my work environment, and many of those friends were located in another city, where I had previously worked.
I had thought about retirement for many years, but not very seriously. I had thought about doing good things. I wanted to do good things. Volunteer? I actually tried several volunteer tasks along the way, and none matched my personality.
The final point of this journey was that I fell in love with a Jew. A lot of her friends were Jewish, and they became my friends. I was surrounded by Jews, and I really liked the way they lived their lives. They did good things. As a lesbian, I feel I was fortunate to have been accepted by these Jews, that my “gayness” wasn’t a second thought for them; that told me right there that I could fit into Jewish life as a gay person.
As it turned out, this wasn’t the final point of my journey at all. I found a rabbi to study with, to learn what Judaism was really all about, and I joined a new community. They’re my community now. The journey was just beginning.Hear Linda talk about her conversion process in this video.
By L., a female Reform convert
When I came out to my mother as gay, I was in my 40’s. I had finally come to the long-fought decision to come out to my family if I ever landed in another relationship. When I did, I sat down with her, and she took it better than I thought she would. Her reply was, “I think I knew all along. I was just hoping it was a fad.”
At the age of 63, it’s no fad. And 8 years after my mother died, I came out again, this time as a Jew. While I would give almost anything to have one last conversation with my mother, to see her again, I’m glad I don’t have to try to explain her to her that I’m a Jew. Because, you see, I’m going to Hell. And it would be Her Fault.
So, spared that last conversation, I very easily converted – well, after it took me three tries to find the right rabbi, but the right rabbi I did find. The rabbis at my Reform synagogue in the East Bay have been super, everything you could have asked for as a lesbian or gay man, or as any Jew, actually. Kind, warm, accepting. Completely accepting. Their constituents are sometimes another story. But it’s a work in progress.
Some people typecast me as Ellen DeGeneres, others as someone who would love to tell lesbian stories (you know, with sex ‘n stuff), and others ignore me completely. This is my community. They’ll get used to seeing me, get used to what lesbians look like and sound like, ones like me and ones who are completely different (because it’s really hard to stereotype us). And as more gay men and women join, we’ll just be normal Jews around temple. I look forward to that day.
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