The Enigma

"Why?"

"What exactly was it that made you change your mind?"

"How did this happen?"

Living in a small town community has its challenges for any Jew, I know. We're isolated from Jewish culture centers and inundated with messages that Christianity is the real religion (I was surprised to realize the other day that "Judeo-Christian" really means "Christian with some heritage" when in common usage around here). With this in mind, why would I be at all surprised to find that Christians are baffled at the thought of conversion to Judaism from Christianity? After all, I am well aware that the prevailing thought is along the lines of "Christianity is Judaism perfected." Why wouldn't Christians question my decision to "go backward?"

Even a couple years into this journey, I still find these surprises lying in wait for me, just as they still scratch their heads. I am the enigma to my friends, family, and acquaintances. I am the problem they discuss when religion is the topic of conversation. I am the human Rubik's cube that they continually fidget with and fuss over, hoping to find the one part that clicks and unlocks the puzzle.

It sounds so self-centered, but for my nearest and dearest, it's generally accurate. I think the dailiness of Jewish life, the weekly coming of Shabbat, the frequency of the multitude of Jewish holidays on the calendar, along with the Christian admonitions to bring back the wanderer and evangelize to the unsaved, keeps this paramount on their list of to-dos. My seeking and studying has been boiled down to the terse "are you still doing that Jewish thing?"

Well, yes, I am. Thankfully, "doing Jewish" is a great way to put it, so the question makes me smile rather than frown. Yes, I'm still trying to live my life Jewishly, do Jewish things, celebrate Jewish holidays, doing that Jewish thing.

Even holding conversation after conversation, the questions continue to emerge: why would you go backward? Why would you turn your back on your upbringing? What did it?

I think they want as much to know "what was the clincher" as anything. I don't know whether it's due to a concern that a similar situation might affect them the same way, or whether if they could just know what to attack and argue against, they might have a chance to change my mind. It's as if my convictions are in code, and if they could just break the code, they could reorder my thoughts. So what on earth was I thinking?

In all honesty, it's been long enough that the original catalyst has long gone fuzzy in my mind. I remember the feeling of wholeness I found in the synagogue that first Simchat Torah, but I don't remember the arguments that caused me to question the upbringing I received. I remember the feeling of opening up a door when I began Hebrew lessons and could follow along in the siddur during services, but not the words that might have made me open to the experience. Apparently, the first inklings will have to remain an engima to us all. What's important to me is my continuing identification with Jewish life and the Jewish community. How and why did it begin?

I honestly don't know. But I'm glad it did.

Hard Questions

I think as readers we can look at this and think further on it. Before converting, we should ask ourselves, Is a Jewish life something I want for myself always, or just in this specific situation (e.g. with this particular person)? If the answer is yes to the former, then by all means proceed. But if Judaism for us is only relevant in the context of being with one person, we should reconsider. Another question might be, Do I have a warm, healthy, supportive community of which I want to be a part, so that if my spouse were to die (lo aleinu), or depart, I would want to remain a part of this community, and perhaps someday find someone else to live with me as part of this community (or one similar to it)? It’s important for us to be happy with our lives apart from where we are with a particular partner. So many people who divorce or are widowed make major changes in their lives afterwards. Maybe that’s helpful to them, or necessary in moving on from their grief, or because they’ve always wanted to do things differently and finally have the liberty and incentive to make those changes. But Judaism is not a hairstyle or a neighborhood or a career; it’s a community, and a relationship with God. I still wouldn’t judge someone who felt he or she had to make a major change even there, but it’s really sad to see someone who invested the time and all the changes she had to make in her life to bring in Judaism, then decide to abandon it.

This is an excerpt from a comment to a blog post made by Shimshonit on JBC.org. It's interesting to me, because the discussion was focused on Orthodox conversions and the opinions of Rabbi Stewart Weiss on his converts' zeal for Judaism (or lack thereof). The comments to the blog really reflected the experiences of the commenters more than the actual content of the post itself as discussion turned to women's roles within Orthodox shuls reflecting their desire to be Jewish (or not). Obviously the conversation took many twists and turns, and is impossible to fully sum up here, so I'd suggest reading the actual blog if you're interested in more.

I just found myself struck more by this paragraph from Shimshonit's response more than anything else. "Is a Jewish life something I want for myself always, or just in this specific situation?" Obviously my circumstances aren't the same as those discussed in the blog, where a woman converts because her potential marriage partner is Jewish...in fact, quite the opposite! I'm converting despite the fact that my marriage partner is NOT Jewish. But the situation still begs the question, is it just for this situation? Am I converting because of a lack of something in my life? Out of boredom? Because I'm difficult like that? Is this something I would abandon later because I grew tired of fighting my family over it, or is this something I so strongly identify with that I would never abandon it?

Shimshonit is quite right: Judaism is not a hairstyle, a neighborhood, or a career. Although Shim may have meant that in the sense that wearing ones' hair in an specific manner, living in the "right" neighborhood, or choosing a career based on Jewish background does not make one a Jew, I also read that to mean that Judaism is not a simple change that can be changed back through a new haircut, a move, or a career change. Once you join a community and form a relationship with them and more importantly with God, how can you abandon that? Right now my focus is necessarily on my relationship with God...who is He, and who am I in light of that? Once I come to a sort of comfort with what I believe about both of those things, will that change, or will it be firmly placed?

I don't face the same circumstances as a woman converting, but as Shimshonit said, I must ask myself these hard questions nonetheless.