The Denial of the Convert
Conversion can be a lonely process; this is documented well enough.For many of us on this path, we are looking at being the only Jew in the family tree. This is only… sort of the case for me, but with a fun story.
My widowed grandfather remarried a woman I adore, and by that marriage I quickly gained two new (step) aunts — one of them is herself a Jewish convert. Despite being related only through marriage, we are very close friends and I often think of her as my ideal older sister! It was thanks to her that I was able to move to California for college ten years ago, and while I stayed with her family I attended my first ever Shabbat dinner. She’s always been keen to answer my questions and share her Jewish home with me (pre-covid, sadly), but there came a point where I was asking… well, let’s just say a lot of questions. Eventually, that “Oh, I shouldn’t put this woman I admire in a position of constantly looking up sources for me” guilt led me to finally reach out to a Rabbi and ask about converting. My aunt’s advice when I shared this exciting news?
“don’t.”
I’ll admit there was some minor devastation — am I not the right fit for this? is there something I’m missing and this desire is a huge mistake? I know my aunt loves me, so there must be a reason, but why?
So, with my aunt’s warning, I dug deeper. “Why not?” I asked. She gave me a rare, honest account of the isolation of conversion. There’s the complexity of raising children, family holiday conflicts, nosey questions, not to mention the question of belonging that can persist for one’s whole life. The convert will take courses and wrestle around with text studies in order to prepare for their shift in identity, while Jews who grew up in the Jewish identity may have never even been exposed to the ideas or practices. There’s a distinct disconnect here — the convert has no childhood Jewish memories. No grandmother’s matzo ball soup to compare their first try to. No deeply rooted melodies of Jewish lullabies and prayers chanted by the comforting voice of a parent or guardian. No knee-jerk instict that says, “well, because we’re Jews!”The convert risks feeling like a try-hard when they adopt a Jewish life which may look nothing like the life of a Jewish neighbor.
So I asked… did she regret it? Do converts regret it? The answer is a resounding “no,” with the typical caveats I’ve come to associate with Jewish discourse. Know what you’re getting into — it’s isolating — make the decision with others in mind. I deeply appreciate all of these bits of advice and love.
There is an old Jewish tradition regarding converts: the Rabbi turns away the petitioning convert three times before bringing them into the fold. I can’t find a text-based source for this practice, and part of me suspects that maybe the Rabbis are just always very busy, but I see the merit. Jewish practice requires a kind of boldness in the face of adversity or isolation — such a huge, life altering commitment has no room for timidity. Asking an authority figure (with whom you may have no relationship!) for the same thing over and over, in the face of potential rejection, at the risk of that in-between-fear I sit in of not quite a Jew, certainly not anything else… I hold in high esteem that insistence on certainty. (update: the practice of denial comes from the book of Ruth, wherein Naomi urges Ruth to move on, to not convert… multiple times).
And then there’s a disconnect from the family of origin: I will be the only Jew in my family. When I find myself visiting the state my parents live in, I’m the only one aware that there is (for some reason) pork in everything. I’ll still get texts from observant Christian family on Easter Sunday declaring to me that their savior is risen (unlike my matzo that I’m probably having for breakfast that morning when all I really want is a bagel). Will they send us those “my first bible” books when we give them their first-ever grandchildren? Since I’ve shared in our family group text that I plan to convert, my siblings are excited for me, my mother is curious, and my father hasn’t really said anything. He briefly pastored at my childhood church — I can see why the shift may take time for him to process. The commandment to honor one’s parents is so important in Jewish life, and converting in the most thoughtful way possible plays a huge role in fulfilling that mitzvah מִצְוָה.
Many people historically have converted to Judaism prior to marrying a Jew. This trend is less common in recent years, and many of us are finding Judaism on our own, with or without partners. I find myself converting after a marriage to a wonderful, loving, brilliant, non-religious man. I’m a rare kind of lucky to have a secular/goyische spouse who encourages me to find a spiritual home and makes sure to not use butter when he makes a steak dinner. Our first big purchase after our November wedding was a nice reusable Christmas tree. We won’t be raising interfaith children per se, because Mister Newish doesn’t have a faith. His upbringing was strictly agnostic, anti-religion even (although his anti-religious mother loves the motif of the Madonna, and I love that for her), and I expect Christmas will be a secular activity in our home, with intellectual caveats… And then Hanukkah will be the real party.
My aunt warned me in love. She finds her faith and Jewish life deeply meaningful, and I (now) know many of the times she has come to my aid that she was also fulfilling mitzvot מִצְווֹת. From what I can gather, her very Christian mother did not react well to her conversion; I’m almost certain she prays daily for her Jewish daughter’s salvation, out of genuine fear for her soul. If/when my grandparents learn of my conversion, they will almost certainly suspect my aunt of “converting” me (fun fact: Jews don’t do that) because they belong to a sect of Christianity which can’t really fathom a faith tradition that doesn’t proselytize. I don’t want to put my grandparents (or anyone!) in a position of distress over my eternal well-being. I certainly don’t want to put my aunt in a position wherein my grandparents see her as responsible for my eternal damnation. That’s a bit too much, and will surely be tricky to navigate when I get there. I’ve asked my family to keep it amongst us for now while I figure out how much everyone needs to know. Faith and culture play between the lines of deeply personal and colorfully public all the time, and I’m probably not unique in this position.
For now, I’ll keep pestering my (very busy) Rabbi to ask about every next step to conversion until I come out of that mikveh מקווה, and live a Jewish life until then. I’ll think of joining my aunt on her own Jewish journey whenever I make her challah recipe. As Shavuot is around the corner and we gather to read the story of the convert in the book of Ruth, I remember that she is, in many ways, my Naomi. Maybe I am Ruth, clinging tightly to my loved ones and striving to create a life that reflects that love. Maybe I am Mara, the name Naomi gives herself after a life-altering loss, which often translates to “bitterness.” I often identify with that bitterness- of separation, of powerlessness, of an identity wrapped up in things beyond your control. I can see that Judaism has a place for that bitterness, and a sweet soft space for me to land in the shekhinah שְׁכִינָה.
Maybe my conversion will have three “no”s along the way, maybe it will be thirty. It’ll be for me to find out on my own, but thankfully isolation is only a feeling, rather than my reality.
The Blessing, Shehecheyanu:
Said upon accomplishing something for the first time, or when doing something notable for the first time in a new year. I look forward to reciting this (probably with tears in my sappy, sensitive eyes) when I emerge from the mikveh someday as a brand-new Jew!
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה, יְיָ אֱלֹהֵינוּ, מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, שֶׁהֶחֱיָנוּ וְקִיְּמָנוּ וְהִגִּיעָנוּ לַזְּמַן הַזֶּה.
Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, shehecheyanu, v’kiy’manu, v’higiyanu laz’man hazeh.
(Blessed are you G-d of the universe, who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to this new season.)
