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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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
Over the past few years I've created family traditions on Christmas. Before my daughter was born I would spend Xmas eve with friends at a Jewish-themed comedy show, eating Chinese food. Now I try to spend the day with friends away from the crowds and shopping malls, and the evening with a special movie and Chinese take-out. I would suggest either It’s a Wonderful Life (classic for some) or Dirty Dancing (one of my favorite chick flicks and so Jewish!).
I have to admit Christmas is always complicated for converts. We have family who wants to see us and they are always going to be requested to join in their celebrations in ways that may make a new Jew question their Jewishness. I've found it can be easier when Christmas and Hanukkah overlap because there will always be activities at your shul to participate in and Hanukkah parties to attend.
By GW, a Conservative female
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