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?
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.
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.
I could write a book with this response. Quite simply. I converted to be Jewish, not just to live Jewishly.I believe you should be Jewish in order to perform certain things, like perform an Aliyah. However, I think it's up to the Rabbi to make the call. This is especially important in the case of people studying to convert (but not yet converted) and interfaith families.
Converting, instead of just living Jewishly, is a symbolic act of your commitment to the community, with all the rights and responsibilities therein.
Another response to the last post on: Why be Jewish?
I read all the comments to the article. Intellectually I know that I converted because I wanted to be a Jew - to take on the responsibilities of and reap the rewards of being a member of the tribe. It wasn't because I wanted to do something specific in the synagogue. But, because belonging to a synagogue is pretty important to converts (especially those of us who have no Jewish family whatsoever - not even in-laws) the idea that anybody can walk through the door of a temple and be seen as equal to converts without doing the work involved to convert rubs me the wrong way. To me, it devalues the conversion process if nothing is required of someone. One of the things I liked least about growing up as a Protestant was anybody could walk through the door of the church and purport to share those same values - but in reality their belief system could be all over the map. What I like about Judaism, and in fact what drew me to it in large measure, was that there is a shared belief system and you have to learn about it, go through a process of claiming it as your own, and then as a Jew you are held accountable by other Jews if you do not live up to those standards.
Quite different than someone who is lukewarm to the idea of being a Jew because their family might get upset or friends might not understand.
You can't be a little bit pregnant and you can't be a little bit Jewish - at least that's what I think. You either are or you aren't.
Every convert has had their own obstacles in the process of their conversion. Family members get incensed, friends ask questions that make you uncomfortable, fellow Jews don't "get" why you want to be Jewish. It's a big deal to convert and a process one should have to go through to become Jewish. It toughens you up for living a Jewish life. By going through that process you claim your Jewish identity in a way that you couldn't have if there not been those challenges.
I was thinking about Daniel Pearl's declaration of "I am a Jew" before he died. It is a claim I too would be willing to make, if faced with it. Would someone who attended my synagogue who was unwilling to convert be able to say the same if they were being persecuted for being affiliated with a synagogue? How would their declaration go - "I thought about becoming Jewish but decided the feelings of my extended family who would be annoyed or disappointed if I converted came first, so I didn't, but I really like the Jews and feel 'Jewish,' but I'm really not a Jew - my spouse is and we've raised our kids that way. Yes, I admit, I am asking my kids to live and die as a Jew, but I'm not willing to do the same myself."
I know that sounds harsh - but through the lens of a convert active in my synagogue - that was my immediate reaction to the discussion. It sounded to me more like people who want it both ways: convincing the clergy that they should be allowed to do everything a Jew does in the synagogue or else they will raise their kids outside the temple or something. If the clergy really doesn't believe being a Jew is of value - then we're really in trouble. Warm bodies at all costs. I don't get it. You can be warm and welcoming and not give away the store.
This is Dawn's interview with a man who went through the Hatafat Dam Brit. The comments in bold are hers.
I was struck by how mysterious this procedure feels and the lack of information around it so I asked someone I know to tell me about his experience of hatafat dam. He agreed.
Not exactly a topic I like to revisit, Dawn... But for you, here's the story.
The most painful part of the process was writing the check to the mohel. The actual procedure was a walk in the park - I didn't feel a thing. My mohel was Rabbi Chanan Feld, of blessed memory.
One thing to consider is the time in between the hatafat dam and the mikvah - when you are technically in this weird nexus of not a Jew but not-not a Jew either. Strange.
Dawn: What was the level of pain?
Zero physical pain. This is more info than you probably care to know, but the mohel draws blood from the scar tissue on the man's penis, which isn't near the head. Again, I'm not trying to be graphic or inappropriate, but you asked.
Dawn: Where was it done?
It was performed at a house which I believe doubled as Rabbi Chanan Feld's office. Specifically, it was done in a room designed for little kids (Winnie-the-Pooh wallpaper was hung and toys were in the room). Obviously no children were present, but still a little weird.
Dawn: Was your rabbi with you? Or did you go on your own?
I went on my own. I'm sure if I’d asked my rabbi to be there, he would have, but it wasn't something I needed him there for.
Dawn: How did you get the contact information for the mohel?
I was given Rabbi Feld's contact info by my rabbi and told exactly what to ask for. Rabbi Feld was very responsive.
Dawn: How much did it cost?
Feld charged $200 for him and $25 for each witness, which there were two. Total bill was $250.
Dawn's comment to us: For everyone’s information, Rabbi Chanan Feld, of blessed memory, was a mohel by profession. Not every doctor who performs the ceremony charges this amount. Most of the men who emailed me said that they paid less. For example, Dr. Piser, when asked about the cost, suggested that the man give a donation to Dr. Piser’s synagogue, Temple Beth Abraham. The gentleman chose to give $50 to the shul.
Yesterday was my conversion anniversary date so I emailed my rabbi:
Good afternoon, Rabbi J
I hope you and your family are all well and happy.
It was exactly a year ago today that we visited the Mikveh and met with the Beit Din to begin this phase of my life as a Jew. I didn't want the anniversary to go by without my saying "hello," and telling you how rewarding and fulfilling this year has been.
I have frequently been struck over the course of the year by how much there is to learn -- particularly the kinds of things that "born Jews" learn more-or-less throughcultural assimilation as they grow up. I have also been struck this year by how much I do know -- not infrequently as much or more than my Jewish friends and acquaintances. I do not think it is an exaggeration to say that in some way or other I make time every day to explore Judaism in some way. I continually keep a book on one Jewish topic or other close at hand, and I regularly explore various Jewish ideas and concerns through discussions with friends and colleagues (or the ever-helpful internet). I guess my point is that I have ultimately realized that the key to "success" for me is to focus on the process and not the end result. When can one ever learn "enough" about anything, particularly a subject as rich and vast as Judaism?
Although I do not personally really believe in reincarnation, it is clear to me that there are connections, motivations and resonances below the surface that we are only vaguely aware of, if at all. Something about Judaism has spoken to me for as long as I can remember. To the extent that such a thing is possible, becoming Jewish was as much like coming home as I could ever have wished.
Moving forward, I will continue to find as many ways to connect with Judaism as possible, all the while remembering to focus on the beauty of the process. Now that my personal life and career seem to have reached a lovely point of relative peace, there is no doubt that I could do more, be more helpful, and commit my time and resources more fully, and that is my ever-present goal. Maybe one of these days I'll even make it to shul for an Erev Shabbat. We can all dream, can't we? :-)
Best regards.
AT
Before I went to the mikvah my rabbi emailed instructions to me. Here’s what I was told by my rabbi:
The mikvah is at Congregation Beth Jacob on Park Blvd. (in Oakland). You ring the front door, and I will meet you in the lobby. The first step is meeting with the three rabbis for the beit din. You need to bring a $50 check made out to Congregation Beth Jacob to pay for use of the mikvah.
At the Beit Din, the three rabbis ask you questions. These are not fact- based questions but questions about what you like about Judaism, what you are doing currently in terms of Jewish observance, what Jewish holiday is meaningful to you, what Jewish books you are reading, connection to Israel. These are some examples, but they can ask you whatever they want. Often they ask you about things you wrote in your personal statement. This takes 10-15 minutes.
After your interview, and acceptance (I am 99.9% sure you will be accepted)*, you go into the mikvah. Wear no jewelry or makeup. You undress in the mikvah room, and the rabbis are in the next room. When you're ready to go in the water, you go in and call out "ready." For men a male rabbi will go in, and for women a female rabbi will go into the mikvah to supervise the immersion. The other rabbis from the beit din will wait outside within hearing range.
Here is the actual procedure inside the mikvah:
You go under the water three times. Go all the way, so the water covers your entire body, and recite the following blessing. If you don't have it memorized you can repeat after us.
Go under the first time and this is the blessing.
Baruch Ata Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha'olam asher kideshanu bemitzvotav vetzivanu al hatevila.
You then dunk a second time and recite the following blessing.
Baruch Ata Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha'olam shehecheyanu vekiamanu vehigianu lazman hazeh.
You then dunk a third time and recite the Shema.
Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad.
The final part of your conversion comes at synagogue, where we do a ceremony where you hold the Torah and we "name" you publically.
Please don't hesitate to call me if you have any questions, and I'll be glad to answer them.
* Editor's Note: No rabbi will take a prospective convert before a beit din until he or she is confident they are ready and will be accepted by the beit din. Of course they cannot guarantee this, but the shame would be on them if they candidate is not ready.
By DL, a Male Conversative
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