Nov 01 2007
As a convert to Judaism, I have been asked several times by born Jews why on earth I would have made the decision to convert to Judaism. It is a strange sounding question to me, because, obviously, I felt strongly enough about becoming a Jew that I was willing to undergo the lengthy and difficult process of converting. I also used to forget sometimes that not all born Jews have had a positive – or even any – experience with Judaism, and this also has an impact. The answers to the question of why someone decides to convert are infinite, and they are, not surprisingly, different for each person. Most of us enjoy sharing what it is about Judaism and the Jewish people that have so captured us, and books on this topic have been written by converts. One thing that often gets overlooked though is how much many of us lose as a result of converting. Frequently it is a very painful sacrifice, a choice between feeling completely alienated from the Jewish souls that are alive within us, or losing lifelong relationships and connections with friends and even family members. Not all converts experience this difficulty, but I did, and I thought that it might be a useful story for 1) people considering conversion, and 2) Jews who are mystified by converts, or doubt the sincerity of non-Orthodox converts.
I was raised in a non-denominational evangelical church, where my mother was, and still is, one of the pastors. Throughout my childhood and teen years, there were two constants in my life. The first was a continuous reinforcement of evangelical dogma. The second was an unexplainable feeling of connection to Am Yisrael and Judaism. Obviously, in the context in which I was raised, the former was pushed, and the latter was a curiosity, but not nourished in any way. My family was quite close, and we had a tight-knit religious community. After I moved away from home to go to college I joined a similar church, where I quickly rebuilt the support system that was stretched by distance and time between visits home. I made many very close friends, was involved in teaching, and generally felt secure.
But being away from home meant freedom to think for myself, and to examine what I believed, and what I knew in my soul. I began to lose my ability to believe in the Universe as described by the faith of my childhood, although I did not discuss these growing doubts with my community. At the same time, I finally felt the freedom to explore this connection I had felt to the Jewish people and Judaism, and I began to read as much as I could about Jewish theology, practice, law, history, philosophy, and Israel. A couple of years in to this process I came to a point where I had to either ignore the pull in my heart toward becoming a Jew, or turn my back on the only real spiritual community I had ever known.
I think the reason so many converts identify so strongly with the journey of Avraham Avinu is that, for many of us, setting off down this path has literally meant leaving everything behind, including family and community. That was the case for me. When I made the decision to become a Jew it meant that my parents, sister, extended family, the church in which I was raised and the dozens of friends I had made at my new one, and Christian friends from college and work, all believed I was taking a turn that would literally carry me to hell. Many were angry, others were grieved, and still more were confused, but most never talked to me again, or if they did it was extremely awkward. There were people with whom I was quite close who cut off contact with me, and although I am still close with my sister, and get along well with my parents, the fact remains that every family gathering is filled with reminders that I am, necessarily in their eyes, tainted. Things will never be the same again.
Although I was happy to convert, the truth of the matter is that there was a significant amount of pain associated with the separation necessitated by the process. While I do not believe that each of the people with whom I no longer have a relationship were malicious in dissociating, and that confusion and hurt feelings were large motivators, the pain of numerous friendships and connections with family being severed was traumatic, almost a sort of psychological circumcision. This sense of loss hung with me for a while, even though I grew closer to my Jewish community, and I think the day of my conversion was a very healing experience, especially my dip in the mikveh of Tischer Creek. Years later, my synagogue community, and Jewish friends in the U.S. and in Israel, have more than filled in the hole left by leaving my old way of life. But sometimes I still think about how sad it is that so many people I considered my friends are no longer in my life. I bet Avraham did too.
I would not trade my path to the Jewish people and our Mesorah for anything, and given one hundred chances to do it all over, I would make the same choice every time. However, it was not an easy choice, in that it has exacted a very personal toll. Those considering conversion should think about whether Judaism and becoming a Jew are important enough to them to make a similar sacrifice. If so, you will be welcomed into our ohel with open arms. If not, it is better to figure this out beforehand, because once you come down the road of becoming a Jew, you are in it for life.
Safe travels if you decide to leave your own personal Haran, and thanks to all my Jewish brothers and sisters whose souls took the right path to the right body the first time for leaving the light on for me!
Kol tuv, and Shabbat Shalom,
Yair
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Yair,
I’m sorry to hear that your conversion was marred by the reception from family and friends. It’s a very sad thing that everyone who is important to you cannot share your joy.
I myself have a few friends that I still have not told because I am waiting until I have the chance to tell them in person. I think it gives me more opportunity to “manage” and respond to their reaction. My premise is that it’s harder to be upset at someone who is in your presence than someone on the phone.
I am coming to Judaism from not observing any religion, and most of my friends and acquaintances are secular (at least outwardly.) I find that most people I know just don’t want to talk about it because they are not comfortable discussing religion of any sort. Most people see my kippa and tzittzit and just clam up.
I find most people don’t want to talk about faith; mine or theirs. Some secular Jews I know seem to find me to be a bit troubling. Their reactions are by far the most negative. It as though they feel I am challenging them, which is really not my agenda. There is no aspect of my observance that I see myself as doing “for” anyone aside from the possible exception of my daughter. (I feel it is incredibly important to be a good role model, especially when it comes to teaching yiddishkeit by example.)
Anyway, T.G.I.F. as they say! Shabbat Shalom everyone~!
Yair,
Thanks for sharing your story. I relate on many levels. I can live no life other than the one I have, but yes, there is always that pain, as well. I know other people have stories like this as well, but maybe because you live just up the road from me it’s different. It’s kind of nice to know someone is around who really understands.
Akiva,
Thanks for your note. I am familiar with the reaction you mentioned that you get from secular Jews sometimes - that confused/troubled reaction. I have noticed that as well, and not just from secular Jews, but also from some more classically- minded Reform Jews who seem to have a visceral reaction to anything that to them looks like it might be “Conservative” or, G-d forbid, “Orthodox.” I like that you wear tzitzit…. that’s a practice I used to do much more frequently than I do now, but I’d like to take it up again soon. It’s a good piece for identity and the message within the mitzvah of tzitzit is very powerful I think, even for Jews who normally wouldn’t think of themselves as terribly traditional.
Yael,
Yeah, there is a feeling of strength that comes from knowing others have a shared experience and are doing well in spite of the trauma or whatever. Thanks!
kol tuv, and Shabbat Shalom!
Yair
Yair
Great post! I’m so glad you decided to blog about this topic. Reading it I realized that although I’ve given up a lot of things to become a Jew I really haven’t lost all that much, if anything at all. You on the other hand in terms of family have certainly lost alot.
What I’d like to know now is how do you deal with family and friends who probably think you’ve made a grave mistake, as in one that going to wind you up in hell? How do you keep the peace? Is this something that just isn’t discussed or do you do any interfaith bridging among your friends and family?
Again thanks for the excellent post.
Shavua Tov, Chaverim!
Hi Avi,
Thanks for your comments. I had mixed feelings about writing this, as I didn’t want to write something that would sound like an invitation to compete over who has had the most difficult path, but I think that it is important to be frank about the risks with people who are looking to convert. If other Jews feel they’ve learned something new from it, that’s good too. Hopefully it gives them a sense of the value of our Tradition, that there are people out there who will take this path willingly despite its enormous difficulty.
Regarding your question about how I deal with friends and family who are upset or think I’m headed for hell…
I basically have a simple rule. If they can control themselves enough to keep these feelings to themselves, we can associate. If not, then we can’t. I was willing to give every fundie Christian friend or family member a single shot at trying to change my mind, but I am no longer willing to have that conversation…. not that they’d want to, because I also teach a counter-missionary class from time to time now :). I had a missionary praying and moaning in the corner in Jerusalem in May, trying to figure out how to respond to what I’d just told him
Anyway, of those people who wanted to remain in contact, I have, so long as they have been able to accept me for who I now am, or they have resigned themselves to keeping their feelings to themselves.
I can do what you called “interfaith bridging,” but I only do it with people who are really willing to critically examine their Christianity, or people who were not Jesus-or-Fire Christians to begin with. I am happy for those friends and family for whom this was possible, and those for whom it wasn’t, I hope some day this will change.
Anyway, I hope this helps. Thanks!
kol tuv,
Yair
Your experience is my husband’s experience as well. He left his childhood religion when he entered college. Even so, his conversion at 42 shocked his family, none of whom who are even very religious. 15 years later and the chasm that opened then just widens. On the one hand it’s a real shame; on the other hand, it simply can’t be helped.
simcha
Simcha,
I think you hit the nail on the head with your last sentence… it is one of those things that one has to deal with.
kol tuv,
Yair
Yair:
I am one of those Jews by birth who also have been puzzled and even shocked when I’ve met converts. My initial emotional reaction to them surprised me, and becoming a part of this blog has made me reassess my relationship to my religion.
Until very recently, the only converts I had ever met were women who converted because they married Jewish men. Most of these women were happy enough to convert, but their Jewishness always seemed lukewarm to me. They did it not so much from the conviction of faith but from a desire for a harmonious family life, and becoming Jewish and raising Jewish children seemed the only way they could have that with the men they loved. On that level I could understand conversion, but even so, when I met one of these women and she told me that she was converting, my response to her, which surprised even me when I blurted it out, was, “Why in hell would you want to do that for?” (Just for the record let me say that the woman in question, a nice Irish girl from Philadelphia, has become one the finest and most committed Jews I know.)
As a Jew by birth I had always taken my religion for granted. Like a lot of Jews, my relation to the faith is best summed up by the biblical warning, “Today I put before you a blessing and a curse.” Most of us, even those of us who are atheists, are proud of being Jews. But we’ve all, to a greater or lesser degree, have encountered the mixed amusement and contempt the larger world has of us. As one author I read put it, “Jews are the most mythologized people in the world,” and it is a burden putting up with the legends that have grown around us.
How much easier it is, really, to be a Christian. The theology is so much more clear cut, the path to “salvation” so much easier to understand, so much easier to attain and therefore so much more comforting.
So when I first met Jews by choice who converted because of a deep attraction and identification with the faith I was absolutely confounded. “Why in hell would you want to do a thing like that for?” I found myself saying. And the answer I received confounded me even more. To a person, they all said that they never felt connected to Christianity, and had always felt a deep affinity and attraction to the Jewish faith and people. That for them, it wasn’t a question of converting but of coming home after a long exile.
This response, given to me by so many different people from so many different walks of life, blew me away totally. The religion that I had taken for granted as much as I take for granted my own right arm, was to them a precious heritage they never had but sorely missed for most of their lives. It shamed me really, and made me appreciate the beauty of Judaism, a beauty that I had devalued because so few people I know had recognized and appreciated it too.
So I want to thank all the converts of this blog, and those that I have met over the years, for showing me my faith in so pure and fresh a light. Whatever conversionary paths you might have taken, through whatever denomination you adhere to, as far as I’m concerned, you are as Jewish as any Jew who ever lived going back to Abraham and Sarah. And I thank you for enriching our common faith and heritage.
Yankel,
Thank you so much for your comments. As difficult as the path can be for some of us who, as you rightly described it, came home to Judaism after a long exile, I for one appreciate hearing from born Jews that our journeys have inspired in them a sense of appreciation for Judaism. It’s not that we are looking for compliments, but it’s sort of a confirmation that we bring something valuable to the Tradition. So often we are reminded that converts or their children have been some of our greatest leaders and sages, but it’s nice to know we needn’t reach those lofty heights to be considered a good deal for the Jewish people :). So thank you, and thank you for your incredibly warm welcome, which reflects the best of what our Tradition values.
Kol tuv,
Yair
Yair,
Forgive me for not yet responding. I’ve been working at commenting on more blogs and realized I’ve neglected this one. I do thank you for your quite well written and thoughtfully expressed posts.
And to Yankel…WOW…what a comment!
Hi Tamara,
I know how that goes…. some days I get on a roll with someone on the Haaretz news site, and as a result I forget to do other stuff, like check my email or do my usual comments on blogs… but anyway, thanks for your comments, and have a good week!
kol tuv,
Yair
I am in the beginning stages of the process of conversion, and it is so reassuring to read that someone else has been down a road so similar to my own.
I was raised in a conservative Christian family, was very involved in the local church, and didn’t even realize that I had the option of becoming a Jew (”by choice”) until I became friends with someone who was converting. Through my life I have felt a strong connection with Judaism, but never imagined there was a path open to me to “come home.” Now I realize there is, and I am wonderfully excited to follow this path!
I, too, have had to deal with family members and friends whose first reaction was that I was going to hell. It is a painful thing to hear from someone close, and even more painful to watch them distance themselves as if you are diseased emotionally. Another layer to add to my own trouble is that I am married to a Christian, and the toll on our marriage is frightening. I had thought that as a non-practicing Christian my husband would be accepting, but he is not. I am not sure how we will be able to keep “peace in the home,” but feeling that he is my bashert, I see no choice but to try my best and leave the rest to G-d.
Thank you so much for a moving blog!
Rivkah:
If you don’t mind my asking, what are your husband’s objections?
Yankel:
My husband feels that I am turning my back on everything I have believed, and that by making this choice I am relegated to Hell. I understand his position, but obviously I don’t agree. My family always respected Judaism as a bedrock of faith, and celebrated Passover before Easter. My husband did not realize I had this background, as it never came up before.
Rivkah:
You will find that non-practicing Christians can be particularly prickly about a conversion. I know that’s what I found with some of my husband’s family. Those who were most committed to their own faith traditions were the most understanding of his conversion; those who were lukewarm and secular didn’t understand at all.
I now inhabit a world where many of the Jews I associate with are converted from other religions and I know that the story of an entirely secular Christian relative objecting to the conversion is quite common.
Have you by any chance seen Chaviva’s article about being the grinch who stole Christmas? Perhaps this might explain their objections.
I wish you much peace and happiness. It’s so difficult to be happy without embracing whatever your authentic self is.
Simcha
I can safely say that while I haven’t experienced loss on the same level as you clearly have (my father and his side of the family is Jewish) I do have some understanding of what might become a stronger dissociation by the time my conversion comes to pass. The longer I work on conversion, the more uncomfortable people have seemed about it.
Thank you for sharing your story; it’s always important for people to find parallels to what they have or might have experienced on their journey.
Sarah, mind if I as what you mean by?
The longer I work on conversion, the more uncomfortable people have seemed about it.
I get the general idea, but I am curious about the specifics and (if you are up to it) I think sharing more on this might be beneficial to others who read the blog. Of course having said that, if you don’t want to share in more detail, I understand.
Sarah,
Thanks for your comments, and I am glad that the experiences I shared in the original post, and the ones others have shared in the comments, have been helpful to you. I have heard from other people born to Jewish fathers and then decide to undergo conversion later to participate in a Conservative or Orthodox community, that there are often similar feelings. People who don’t undergo such a journey often have a serious problem understanding it, and often feel they are being rejected, which of course isn’t the case. It’s a tough nut to crack and no mistake. But having support from a Jewish community sure makes the trip easier to survive with sanity intact! Take care, and good luck on your own path!
kol tuv,
Yair