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.

Mental Block

Call it exhaustion, call it performance anxiety, call it fear of rejection...call it whatever you like, but the fact is that I have completely frozen on my Beit Din essay.

I was saving this till after the end of the semester, sort of a 'saving the best for last' thought because I knew that I wouldn't be searching things in books or online, footnoting or fact-checking with this essay. It would come from the heart and I already knew the answers, so how hard could it be?

Turns out, pretty darn hard. I know how I came to this point, but to sit down and put in black and white that "oh, I just kinda all of a sudden decided that Christianity was wrong and Judaism was, like, AWESOME," isn't exactly what I think the Beit Din wants to hear. It's not really how things happened, either, but it's the Cliffs Notes version. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure how I got to this point. Was it really the Introduction to World Religions class? After all, my professor reassured us at the beginning that he had never, in all his years of teaching religious studies, had anyone convert from their religion to another due to what they learned in class. That doesn't mean it wasn't the reason, obviously. There's always a first time (and may I just add a disclaimer, I'm actually looking forward to getting back in touch with him and letting him know that I'm his first. What can I say, it just makes me chortle with glee). Was it because my mother once upon a time was interested in Messianic Judaism/Christianity and we had intertwined Jewish and Christian motifs in our home? (By the way, I still want to find that dreidel!)

Is it because I like to be different? Is it a rebellion against everything in my life that's the norm? I'd like to hope not, since normalcy and comfort are something I'm really craving right now during this deployment.

I am so stuck. I want to be able to explain myself, but I'm not sure I fully understand in the first place.

I suppose the only thing to do is to take the bull by the horns and begin to write. I have no excuses to put it off any longer, and what's the worst that could happen? I could break a nail or have a breakthrough! I guess this means full speed ahead.

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

I am enjoying these Introduction to Judaism classes so much! It's a chance to discuss different basic topics. A time to ask the nagging little questions that I can never think of when I run into the rabbi at other times, and which are too small to bother with sending an email to ask. It's also a great way to exchange and compare ideas with others, as well as just sharing time with friends.

Another great feature of these Sunday afternoons is being able to find one on one time with the rabbi if I need it. Last Sunday was one of those days, although talking with him was unintentional until I realized my worries about my mother were already pouring out to his sympathetic ear. My rabbi is a very easy person to share with, although no conversation ends without being given something to think about and turn over in my mind.

What stuck with me from this conversation was his gentle questioning on how my faith journey is coming. With so much going on over the past few months, I have to admit my movement has come to a standstill. I am forever questioning myself whether I still believe converting is the right thing to do for myself, but also for my family. We have so many stressors right now that I don't feel at liberty to simply throw another one into the mix and hope the batter doesn't go flying. Thankfully, Rabbi understands and agrees with my assessment. He said something about things not progressing swiftly, and I agreed that that was not in the cards, to which he nodded. In this case, it is not the best thing to be the swiftest. Just as I read to my children, slow and steady will win the race. With a supportive group of people to cheer me on, I have no doubt that will be true.

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.

A slice of Guilt

I visited my mother in the hospital this morning. She has several ailments right now, but thankfully she was in good spirits. I think seeing her grandchildren and getting lots of hugs helped brighten her day immensely, and my father's, too.

I love my parents. They are such a strong couple, dealing with so many illnesses and deaths in our family, my brother's deployment to Afghanistan last year, my husband's deployment coming up, my mother's illnesses which never seem to have answers...

People often joke about the Jewish "corner on the market" for guilt. Well, honey, cut me a big slice of that pie, because when I tell my parents I'm converting I will have guilt like nobody's business! I'm already feeling guilty just considering breaking the news to them, along with the guilt of not telling them all this time.

I ask myself, how can I bear to break my father's heart? Doesn't my mother have enough to bear right now? Honestly, I wonder don't I have enough to bear right now without throwing a conversion to Judaism into the mix. I've been feeling a stronger and stronger desire to tell my parents, though. I suppose once I reach that boiling point, I'll have found a way to tell them without making them feel at fault for my choosing this path, which is probably the part which worries me the most.

"Dear Mom and Dad: I love you. I'm becoming Jewish."

Isn't it great?

Cold Chill on a Hot Day

It's not easy to have a cold chill pass over your body on a 90 degree day, but sometimes there are things that can accomplish that and then some. Reading a past comment to a post over on JBC.org managed to cause me a cold chill and a momentary feeling of despair just now.

The post was titled Three Inspiring Gerim: Rabbi Asher Wade, Gavriel Sanders, and Yisrael Campbell, and described the conversion experiences of these three Orthodox Jews. It was not the original post, but a response to it by none other than Gavriel Sanders himself which affected me so much:

I hold one simple metric for defining a Jew: will this person have Jewish grandchildren? Maintaining the living links in the chain of Jewish perpetuity is what matters. The Torah provides profound guidance for insuring the Jewish future. "Atem had’vekim ba’Hashem Elokeychem - chaim kulchem hayom." - You who cling to Hashem your G-d are all alive this day."

I can't answer his metric. Will I have Jewish grandchildren? If my family has anything to do with it, probably not. This is something which has bothered me from the time I started to consider conversion, and it continues to bother me...can I be Jewish if I'm unable to bring my children along? Is there a point in becoming Jewish if I can't be "fully Jewish" by having a Jewish marriage and a Jewish home? According to Sanders, apparently no.

A further comment by a poster known only as "Rebbetzyn" included this even more circumscribed thought:

There is a commenton a film that can be ordered from J.E.M.S/KEHOT by the Lubavitcher Rebbe where he talks
about how any movement that is Non-Orthodox dupes the convert
as they cannot effect a conversion his words are ” they do
NOT get a Jewish soul and they lose the one they have”
The explanation is as I understand it their “Beis Din” cannot affect the descent of a Jewish soul through their auspices.
and that because / if they themselves are halachically Jewish the fact that they are Jews means that they have enough spiritual power to do the opposite of good to the unsuspecting person…what is affected is a loss with no gain…..Ithink that it would
be in the best case scenario the seven noachide laws by default.

[sic]

It comes as no surprise that an Orthodox Jew (I assume, judging by the stance this poster takes) believes that one cannot be a Jew through conversion under auspices other than the Orthodox. It is still a bit of a blow, especially when combined with a supposed quote from the Rebbe that not only would such a convert lack a Jewish soul, but would also lose the gentile one which they had. I don't know if it's superstitious of me to be affected so much by that thought, but I am. Although I am not an Orthodox Jew, I still have respect for the Rebbe as a great and wise leader.

Do I really believe that by converting under Reform auspices I'll lose my soul? No. Surely it isn't the specific religion, but the clinging to G-d which is most important to one's soul? I must admit this may be my own wishful thinking, but there it is. Does one actually lose a soul in any conversion? Is that possible? I don't think so. I also don't think a Jewish soul can be created where one doesn't already exist. A heightened understanding, sympathy, tolerance, openness, those may be created in someone through knowledge and experience. Only G-d places souls, and only He knows which soul he placed in each person.

Yes, Sanders and "Rebbetzyn" rattled my nerves a bit this afternoon by touching on an already sore spot. However, if I don't allow misguided Christians calling down hellfire on me to rattle me, how can I allow a nameless poster and a Jewish strict constructionist to do the same? Only G-d and I know the state of my own soul, and that is enough for me.

Long Time Gone

If you're a Dixie Chicks fan, you'll know the title reference. All others may feel free to look it up at their leisure.

Do you ever feel that something just doesn't fit? Maybe you've started to wonder if you will ever fit anywhere. Well, as a blonde, Southern, country, formerly diehard Christian who wants to convert to Judaism, I can empathize. Sometimes Judaism seems so right for me...but that's only when I'm considering myself. Most of the time, it is feeling not-quite-right to very-wrong: not quite right in that I don't quite fit with the local synagogue crowd. Very wrong in that my husband and children are not only Gentiles, but Christians. Born-again, baptized Christians who love Jesus, love "Jesus Loves Me" to be sung to them, love to read about Jesus.

And then there's me. Confused, alone, torn in what feels like a million directions. Who is G-d? Who was/is Jesus of Nazareth, Yeshua? Who was/is/will be Moshiach? Where do I fit in all of this?

For Mother's Day we watched Gentleman's Agreement. The movie stars Gregory Peck as a writer who takes on an assignment to write about antisemitism in post-WWII America. At first he is hesitant because he feels unable to give a better treatment to the situation than had been done dozens of times over before. Then he has a light-bulb moment: he'll be Jewish for as long as it takes to get the material to write his piece. At one point he tells his Jewish boyhood friend not only is passing himself off as a Jew working, it's working a little too well. His mother's doctor reacts disapprovingly when he asks to be referred to a Jewish doctor at Mount Sinai or Beth Israel hospitals, his new fiance reacts poorly to the idea and argues over whether they should continue the charade in front of her sister and her friends, and most hurtful of all, his son is called "dirty Jew" and "kike" by the neighborhood kids and runs home crying.

Of course, the movie ends in a positive way, and I've always loved it for some reason. But seeing it now, after beginning the long journey toward Jewishness, it's as if I'm seeing it for the first time. It feels so much more hurtful when one might be the victim, versus the WASP who says, "Oh, how horrible...for you." The situation feels quite a bit different when the shoe is on the other foot, when you can't thank your lucky stars that you were born a Gentile, that your children will never go through that pain because they aren't a minority (or in the case of a convert, related to the minority). It certainly gave me pause.

I suppose I'm just feeling that even though I'm scared for what my choice may do to my family, to my children...I'm feeling that "the rest is a long time gone, and it ain't comin' back again..."

Hmmm...

I was riding down the road today and passed a business sign...one of those with the removeable letters that you can change to read different messages. This one read something along the lines of "I will not leave you orphans. I will come to you. John 14:18." (Of course I just googled this to make sure I was right. ;))

An interesting thing is happening inside me...I read that, and the first thing that popped into my mind was, "Well, he hasn't come yet!" I'm finding that more and more I feel divorced from my conservative Christian roots, and more and more I feel at loose ends. I'm caught betwixt and between...no longer comfortable in the faith of Christianity, not yet comfortable in the heritage of Judaism. Speaking with a friend, I said I felt as though I'm "faking it," because I'm not "really Jewish." I don't know if that's a genuine feeling, or if it's born of my husband repeating it to me so frequently in the past few months. I'm sure it's a bit of both. I want so much to tell my rabbi I'm ready for the next step, ready to begin a true track toward conversion. At the same time, I'm scared stiff. My husband said loudly in a clothing store the other day, "You can't wear that--it's not Jewish enough." In a small town, news travels fast. Not only was I shocked that he was saying something about clothing (what exactly is "Jewish" clothing anymore, anyway? It's not as if I'm considering converting Orthodox that he could say I'm not fitting a dress code!), I was also shocked that he was pointedly doing this in a public place where he was apparently hoping to be overheard. I've told him before that I'm not sure enough in my convictions (or perhaps lack thereof?) to "come out" to everyone that I'm wanting to convert to Judaism. We do live in a small town, and it is predominantly Christian. Unlike what they claim in their dogma, Christians have long memories and are not terribly forgiving, especially when it means their values and beliefs, their veracity, has been questioned. Even in "returning to the fold," if I were to do that, I would forever be a pariah in this area.

Sadly, that's the main reason I'm not "coming out" yet. Interestingly enough, every time I take part in something that reinforces my Judaism (attending the Chanukah dinner, when my daughter and I ended up as part of the broadcast on the evening news, or being seen and possibly heard discussing Judaism and Telushkin with a friend while out in town the other day, for examples), it seems to be something that draws attention to me. I'm not sure if this is meant to "shame" me into turning away, or if it's meant to encourage me to be bolder and take that next step...regardless of what others think.

Honestly, I think I'm reading too much into it. ;) I'm hoping to read through the JPS Tanakh (which I am thrilled to say I own now!), and see if that helps me see things more clearly. I would like to take the Intro to Judaism class that's coming up, but of course want to talk with my rabbi before then.

Would I be more likely to have already begun that by now, or less, if I weren't having to fight tooth and nail for every concession my dear husband has made to me thus far? I wonder...

Absolutely Random Post

In which I carry on about absolutely random things in a stream-of-consciousness style.

I have just finished reading posts from a forum which is full of animus. I realize that people will be themselves, only more so, on the Internet. However, are we all really so touchy over supposed slights against virtual friends? The hatefulness I just wasted time perusing was enough to depress anyone, much less those who were fully involved in tearing each other down. Perhaps Thumper's mother had the right idea after all:

If you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all. ~Bambi

And yes, in the interest of full disclosure, I do have those days myself. That's when I enjoy my Shabbat more than usual. It's a chance to clear my head, focus on something beyond my small world, and come back renewed and refreshed.

Moving on, don't you hate when you have ideas for posts, and once you get online you realize you've completely forgotten them? I had several posts over the past week which I was working on developing in my mind...and now I don't have even the ghostly wisps of those thoughts left to discuss. So frustrating!

On Sunday I had the opportunity to meet a fellow convert friend for coffee and a walk around town, which I thoroughly enjoyed. We have both been reading through Telushkin's Jewish Literacy, and with the situations in our families being similar, it was wonderful to be able to discuss things from the book with each other. By the end of our walk, we had to laugh at how often we were saying, "oh, well Telushkin said this about..." or "I think it was in Telushkin where there was this quote..." We decided we've become "Telushkinites:" all we know about Judaism we learned from Telushkin. Of course, not seriously, but I have been debating buying a copy of the book to have as a reference. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it. We both agreed that Telushkin is highly readable and relateable. Considering the size of the book, and the fact that I plan to tackle "Biblical Literacy" sometime in the near future, I'm very thankful for that!

My friend brought up an interesting point while we were talking. He and my husband knew each other in school, and he is aware of my husband's dislike for my desire to convert to Judaism. He asked me whether my husband might be concerned that if I converted, I might decide that a Christian husband was not right for me any longer, and look for a "good Jewish boy" to marry instead.

Although I appreciate his concern, I doubt that my husband has that particular difficulty in mind when he stands so firmly against my conversion. I think that although he doesn't practice his faith, he still holds strongly to it, and would like me to do the same. I've written before about my concerns for my children and what conversion would mean for them; I believe that's a strong concern of my husband's as well.

After sharing this with my friend, he made the suggestion that I consider not converting, but attending shul as a Gentile. This doesn't sit well with me, because it feels like unfinished business. I'm not sure what exactly is pushing me toward taking that final step in becoming a member of the Tribe, which may be the topic for another post! (Ah, and here we find the secret to proper posting procedure...when a topic for a post comes to mind, WRITE IT DOWN! Or in this case, post it down.)

On a final, random note, I must go fix dinner. My children are hungry and fomenting revolt, starting with tearing up my freshly made bed.

On Conversion and Children

I'm sure every parent has looked down into their child's face as a sleeping infant and wanted for them the best, the least difficult, the most perfect life. I've read more than one article which was based on the premise that babies bring a spiritual reawakening into the home along with their first breath. I can't say that my spiritual reawakening was instantaneous, but there's nothing like the miracle of new life to make someone want to bless the heavens. If this new life ushers in a more devout mindset, a desire to pass this faith to the next generation, all the better. Children are remarkably open to whatever their parents tell them in their early years. Whether that sticks or not is up for questioning, but in the beginning even the Tooth Fairy is real, and G-d is in His heaven looking down on the world, tugging on His long, grey beard as He surveys His creation.

This raises a problem for a convert who is already a parent at that critical time. What do you tell your children? Do you open up their world to such bleak doubt? Once broken, is their trust and faith forever shattered, or will they simply follow the lead they are given?

While reading a children's book titled Many Ways, a book on the commonalities among the world's great religions, my school-aged daughter kept looking for symbols and rituals that were "English," ie, Christian. While I was drawn automatically to the Judaica, the Mogen David, the Shabbat candlelighting, the Torah scrolls, the kipa, she was drawn to the crosses, the baptisms, the choirs, the hot cross buns. When she said, "this is us, Mommy," I didn't have the heart to tell her, "No, that is you, dear. This over here is Mommy." How do you tear your family apart, setting yourself opposite that which you have taught your child, and putting your very self in opposition to hers?