Today marks the final step in affirming my Jewish identity. I often struggle to find words to express the logical reasons behind my decision that I know others are seeking, because in the most simplest of terms- it was beshert. I have always been a spiritual person and had difficulties defining what the meant for me and where I belonged. I found that spiritual home in Judaism and today allows me to fully embrace all that it means to be a Jew- both spiritually and culturally. My dream for my Jewish tomorrow is to continue to grow in my knowledge, my involvement in the community and to build deeper connections with those around me. I dream of marrying and raising a Jewish family- providing all of the experiences that I didn’t get a chance to have growing up. I dream of one day journeying to Israel to feel the connection that one can only have there. I also dream of the day that I will be as comfortable speaking and reading Hebrew as I do English. In essence, I dream of a day when I will honor my non-Jewish past, but can’t imagine having never been Jewish. I have come a very long way thus far and I know that today is really only the beginning of a lifelong journey and I welcome it with an open heart and open arms.
Conservative woman convert
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.
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.
When the Jewish community is asking itself about how to be inviting to interfaith families the question of conversion often comes up. Should non-Jews be allowed to do everything a Jew can do? Does it make any difference if someone lives among the Jews versus actually converting?
One respondent to an internet dialog asked, If you believe that conversion is nice, but it has no bearing on one's ability to "belong to" and "participate in the life of" the community, then in what way does the "identity" conferred by conversion "matter?"
I posed the question to some Jews by choice (converts). I want to share the replies with you.
Here is the first answer.
Good topic! Something I think about a lot.
There are three states: (1) being involved but not converting; (2) being involved and converting; (3) converting but not being involved. While Number 2 is the ideal, Numbers 1 and 3 show that actively belonging to the community is separate from converting, often related to it but not necessarily so. It's like being a resident alien with a Green Card as opposed to taking the oath and becoming a citizen. That final act makes you a real member of the club as opposed to just a visiting guest.
The "belong to" and "participate in the life of" sentiments miss out on an important element, which is the Jewish People. When you convert you become part of Am Yisrael (ie the People of Israel). If you are not converted you are only an associate of said people, but not actually one of them. A convert can make aliyah to Israel; a "Jewish associate" never could. The participating-in sentiment is alive only for as long as you actually participate; whereas once you are converted you could do nothing overtly Jewish yet you are still a Jew (ie Number 3 above). Converting is the step which makes your belonging-to irrevocable.
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.
While I was strongly encouraged to do a Hatafat Dam Brit, I was also told that my denomination (Renewal) would not require it. After talking to a couple of other male converts who said that it was meaningful for them, I decided to do it.
Since the Rabbi that was guiding my conversion was female, we worked with a male Rabbi who could help with the Hatafat Dam and the mikveh. Since he was not a Mohel, he asked a friend and more senior Conservative Rabbi who was a Mohel to supervise. The senior Rabbi served as one of the witnesses, and two other males from his congregation were called in as witnesses.
I admit that I was completely out of my body for the whole experience, which was done after Mariv services at the senior Rabbi’s schul. I was out of it since, honestly, hanging out the private parts in a Rabbi’s office in front of four other men was a bit much. Thank heavens my mother told me to always wear good underwear with no holes. The actual lancet (same as they use for diabetes tests on the finger) prick was negligible pain-wise, and the least of the considerations. I barely remember the brief prayers or being presented with my certificate. (And BTW, it did not hurt at all later—there was only a tiny scab the next day and then it was gone).
Immediately after my Brit, I was not sure how this could be meaningful to anyone. I was feeling like it was a combination of a trip to the dentist and a somewhat embarrassing mishap from grammar school.
However, a few days later I was at my synagogue for Friday Shabbat services, and then I understood. There was a profound sense of belonging that I had not quite ever felt before. Not to go too mystical, but it felt like I was suddenly connected to the Patriarchs, that they were present, and that I was therefore a definite part of the family. Nothing on the outside was different, only a few people in the room knew that I had undergone the Brit—but it made all the difference in the world to me. I sang louder and davened more deeply is how I would express it, and ultimately, felt a deep sense of being welcomed into the family.
KM
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
My daughter (a toddler) and I are "home"—on the east coast with my family right now. My family celebrates Christmas, and here we are staying at my brother's house-- full on Christmas. You name it- the tree, the nativity scene, the stockings, the cookies, all the holiday cheer. I wish that this part of the family (my family) celebrated Hanukkah, but they don't. And that's o.k. In MY home, we celebrate Hanukkah-- and we do it up big. And it's fun! My daughter is a little surprised by all the Christmas going on here, and she is definitely interested in it. And that's o.k. with me, because we are in their home. In our home we do it differently. And that's good too!
I figure that if we don't join in the big celebrations of my family, how can we expect them to join us in celebrating her Bat Mitzvah years from now? We know we are Jewish and have other wonderful holidays to celebrate (a sukkah at sukkot, lights and dreidel at Hanukkah, getting together with friends at Passover, etc. not to mention Shabbat every week!). My child loves our family celebrations in our Jewish home. She isn't going to love them any less because she sees how other people celebrate different holidays.
It's all good!
MC, Reform, Female
When it comes to Christmas, I find it a relief not to have to deal with the tree, the ornaments, all the decorating, anticipation about gifts, etc. Candles are a hassle-free alternative to the literal mess that accompanies the holiday. I'm reminded of these things when I visit my family members during the holidays - all this hassle, all this build-up and then, BAM, it's over. The only thing about the holidays that I miss are the traditional foods that I grew up with, but it's really not difficult at all to incorporate that into my Chanuka celebration. I spend Christmas with my family and exchange gifts, but I truly feel that this is THEIR celebration and not mine. I'm not pro-Christmas, but I'm not anti-Christmas either - just like I'm not pro- or anti-Chinese New Year, Eid al-Adha or any other celebration by an ethnic/religious group. Other people have their customs and that's great, but I have my customs and I choose to embrace them.
When I was a child and Christian, I loved Christmas, but now that I'm an adult and Jewish, those memories feel like they come from a different lifetime and were experienced by somebody else. I find that engrossing myself in Judaism by celebrating the holidays as best I can and making Tefilla, Teshuva and Tora study something I engage in every day doesn't leave me with much of a hole that needs to be filled when it comes to the holidays. Truth be told, I identify so strongly as a Jew that I sometimes forget that I'm a convert and led a completely different life up until just a couple years ago!
DL, Conservative, male
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