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.
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.
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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