Conversations on Conversion, part 2

During our first talk about conversion, the rabbi said something interesting. So interesting that I decided it needs its own post. When we were discussion Christianity, my experiences with it and my currently feelings toward it, she said something to the affect of, "Don't be running from something. Well, you can but eventually be running toward something. We want you to be running toward Judaism." This is actually a great way to describe the process I think I am in the middle of. It reminded me of this article I read a while back about college kids converting to Judaism. Hillel rabbis have commented on the surprising number of students who approach them about conversion. Some rabbis don't think this is a good thing; they think that kids wanting to convert to Judaism is a response to fundamental Christianity. I think they couldn't be more wrong.

Converting to Judaism is not a reaction to the growing fundamentalism among conservative Christians. Militant atheism is. If I wanted to do the opposite of what evangelical Christians do, I would be an atheist skeptic. I would spend my time pointing out all of the inconsistencies in Christian scripture and theology. I would be a huge debbie downer about Christmas and mock Easter. That's not what I want. That doesn't sound very fulfilling to me. Yes, certain things about Christians drive me nuts. Yes, there are times I'd really like to point that out. But, what is the point? I will not change their minds. I can't waste time talking to people who won't listen. Converting to Judaism is its own unique journey that cannot be described as going in the opposite direction of Christianity.

I'll admit it: I've run from Christianity. I've run fast and hard, circled back, run some more and then sprinted out. For most of that time, I didn't know where I was running. I just kept going, kept wandering. I've traveled a lot of places to check out the scene, but I know that toward Judaism is where I'm headed. But I'm not running anymore. I'd say I'm walking at a slow pace, moseying, if you will. I'm taking my time getting there. But I keep checking back over my shoulder, making sure nothing is coming after me. Something might have followed me out when I ran from Christianity.

I'm taking my time with Judaism because I am afraid. I'm afraid of what will happen when the door is closed completely on Christianity. If I don't have closure - if that's what I even need - I'll never find peace in Judaism. I'm afraid of that small tug of betrayal I feel whenever I read about the current affairs of the Catholic Church. The biggest question I am dealing with now is, will that feeling ever go away? It's painful, and I'm tired of dealing with it.

Conversations on Conversion, part 1

Remember that rabbi who told me I need to change my name? who also happens to be a convert? I talked to her the other day. I didn't exactly want to, but she's about to pop out another kid. Once the baby comes, the next time I'll see her will be late August. I figured I'll just talk to her, ask her questions, get it over with because she's a resource whether or not I like it. Don't get me wrong - she's not terrible; just something doesn't click with us.

When I asked her to talk I said I wanted to ask her about her life, she really didn't understand what I was alluding to. Who would ever guess the non-Jewish girl who hangs out at Hillel might want to ask a convert the details of her conversion. I walk into her office and she asks me what's up, what do I want to talk about? I explained to her about talking to my mom, that I had carefully planned to talk to my mom separately from my dad incase he reacted badly, that I don't know what to do about my grandparents, and that it was super awkward. She replied "Yeah, it's weird. It's super weird." Yes, thanks for that. Anyways, I started asking her questions and finally she shared (some of) her conversion story. I mean, I've been waiting for months... Her situation is very, very different than mine.

Her parents are very relaxed. She didn't grow up in a very religious home and it really wasn't a big deal when she converted. She doesn't go to her parents house on Christmas or Easter or anything like that. She converted at a reform synagogue in town (she did her undergrad here). She doesn't care that the orthodox rabbi whose office is right next door probably doesn't consider her Jewish. She says at some point you just have to say f*ck it. She doesn't belong to a temple either, because Judaism "is about what you do in your house. You can daven in your living room and have Shabbos dinner and you're good. Synagogue life in America is dying out."

Honestly, that last part, which has little to do with conversion, was the most shocking to me. I was under the impression that the community was half the point of Judaism. I'm not sure how I feel about that. The reason I love going to Hillel is to see lots of people I wouldn't see in class or wouldn't really invite to my house. Then there's the actual prayer service. There really is something to praying in a group, which is why Judaism encourages communal prayer and only allows some prayers if there's a large enough group. I'm still digesting that information and trying to imagine doing a Jewish life without a synagogue. I think the reason she can get by like that is she has a whole cyberworld. She connects to tons of people through the internet in various ways. I use it to stay connected to people I already know and use email for school/business like stuff. I don't make too many new friends via the internet neither do I have meaningful conversations with many people via the internet. I don't think synagogue-free-Judaism would work great for me.

We actually did talk for a long time and it turned out to be helpful. When I asked her when and where she converted she started talking about my options. She said I should meet all the rabbis in town. She said I could work with her or another chick rabbi in town whose not a congregational rabbi. It was very nice of her to offer to work with me on conversion. I was really surprised by it, actually. I didn't know she liked me enough to be around me on a constant, regular basis. It's so hard to tell with her. But 1) I feel like that would be taking the easy way out by not "shopping around" to find the right rabbi and congregation and 2) I just don't think it would work well. She is totally fine with Christianity, like no issues whatsoever. And that's fantastic for her, it's just not my situation at all. I feel like she doesn't understand just from the brief conversation we had about church and Christianity. I don't just need a teacher, I need someone who can help me understand Christianity from a Jewish perspective and in a way that I don't get pissed off at Christians/Christianity all the time. I've definitely worked on that by myself over the past three years, but there are still certain things that get under my skin in - let's be perfectly honest - an unhealthy way. Also, she disappears sometimes, which I don't find promising for a teacher-student relationship. Not physically - well yes, sometimes physically - but mentally, emotionally. And she's very carefree and relaxed. I don't know, I guess I want my converting rabbi to be full of care and structured. Perhaps I am being too picky or unrealistic. Perhaps all the other Jews by choice out there have given me too much hope for what to expect.

In a more positive light, I would like it if she'd be there for me during the process, if I choose to begin while I'm still in school. I could see her as an additional resource/guide/teacher. And why shouldn't I want more help? I'm allowed to ask for that, right? Honestly, I'm just hopping that she really is having pregnancy mood swings and can be a regular person in my life next school year. I've never known her not pregnant so I can't figure out if what's happened in the last three to four months is baby-related or is her actual personality. I really hope it's the former.

In other news, some of my friends have already said they'd help with shul-shopping this spring so I hope that turns out well. There are three reform and two conservative shuls (also three orthodox but please see the comments section of Was this a bad idea?). One of the conservative shuls has a fantastic website and an Intro to Judaism class. They seem very well equipped for conversion. From what I've gathered in the past year plus, is that most reform synagogues do conversion or will help you find something. So, things are looking pretty good right now.

Breaking the news to Mom

So, I told my mom I am thinking about converting to Judaism. At first, she didn't say anything. It was awkward. Then she said, "Well that's your business." I tried explaining that it's really her business, too. Then she asked why. Although I know really well why I want to be Jewish, it's really hard to spell out when your mom asks you for the first time. I stumbled and mumbled and eventually got out that I wanted to have a religion for my own kids, one that I agree with. I got a confused look and a "what do you mean?"

I must pause here and tell you a story about something that happened a year ago - almost exactly a year ago.  My aunt Mary left the Catholic Church a long time ago and she became a baptist. Her husband's also a baptist and they raised their kids in the baptist church. It really works for them. I was asking my mom all these questions about her leaving, like how old was she when she did it and why. Finally, my mom goes, "What? Do you want to leave the church or something?" When I replied yes, she then asked "Well do you want to be Jewish?" I said I don't know. "Do you want to be a baptist? What? You have to be something. You need to have a religion to raise your kids in. Even though I don't go to church now and I think a lot of those same things you think about the Church, I am not sorry I took you to church. Religion is a good thing for kids to have." And she's so right. So, so right. I mean, I look at kids who are raised with and without religion and I can just see that something is missing from the lives of those kids who have no religion. It's comforting and it can be good if done in the right way.

So when my mom asked me "what do you mean" when I said I want a religion for my kids, I was a little confused. And I repeated her own words to her. She realized my point and paused for a while. "I don't know. I guess I've never know anyone who's converted to Judaism. I mean, I've just always been Catholic. Even though I don't practice it or go to church - I just- I've just always been Catholic."

The moral of the story is that my mom just needs time to adjust. She needs to get used to the idea. Which is fantastic in my opinion. She said a lot more and the next day we talked and she asked me questions. I purposefully told her separate from my dad so that he can adjust without reacting badly in front of me. He will definitely need more time to adjust. But the point it, they can adjust. I don't know what I'd do if I had the type of parents who'd cut me out if I changed religions. I don't know how I could move forward with my life if they didn't want to adjust and compromise. I gave her Judaism for Dummies to read and she said she would. It takes her a while to do things so I know she won't fly through it by any means. But it's really OK if it takes her a while because it takes a while to convert to Judaism.

Honestly, I am so glad I got the most awkward conversation of our whole relationship out of the way. Now I can talk to my mom about my day without leaving out that I went to Hillel. Sometimes that's the biggest part of my day. I talked to my mom on the phone yesterday and my dad sort of cracked a joke in the background about it all. Joking about things = being OK with things, at least in my family.

What a relief.

Why I didn't need religion

This post is long over due. What I am about to write about is the only important thing I have to explain about who I am. I didn't worry about religion a lot of the time in high school because the truth is, I didn't need it. And I didn't plan to ever need it. I had something better: dance.

I am not talking about dance in your living room when you're bored (or drunk). I am talking about fifteen years of classical dance: ballet, jazz, lyrical, and tap. To put it simply, dance was my life. Everything else came second to dance. I missed out on a lot of stuff with friends and school, but it was worth it. The motto of every serious dancer's life is "... I can't, I have dance" because everything conflicts with dance.

Through dance I learned discipline, diversity among people, and unity among people. I learned how to feel through dance. I learned how to live through dance. And I learned how to love through dance. I am who I am because of dance. It is incredibly simple, yet incredibly complicated. It is painful to write this post in the past tense. Every fiber of my being loves to dance and it's so difficult to explain why. I was never going to an amazing ballerina or a badass tap dancer in those shows in little jazz joints and side bars. I was never going to change the world with my dancing. But I still did it for 15 years thinking that I could do those things. I lived my life on the premise that dance would take me everywhere and anywhere I was supposed to go.

Why does any of this matter? Because if I were at a small liberal arts school majoring in dance, I wouldn't be writing this post. I wouldn't be writing this blog. And I wouldn't be half-way to Jewish right now. Is that a good thing? I don't know. I don't know if stopping dance with high school graduation was the best thing or the worst thing I ever did. I just know I did it, and it's too late to change that.

Every week, when I would walk in to ballet class, hair in a tight bun and wearing a black leo and pink tights , place my left hand on the barre, and slide my feet into first position, the whole world would fall away. I could just exist in that moment for ever. There were no fights with friends or parents, no politics, no war, just me, the music, and my ballet teacher screaming in the background. It was heaven on earth. True peace. To this day, if I am having a stressful day and can't focus or fall asleep, I close my eyes and go back there. I go back to the barre and hear the piano music. My heart slows and my head empties and I can be whole again. I can be me in the world and not stress about any of it. Becoming one with the barre and with the music is the only thing that could ever give me such peace and contentment.

So of course I didn't need religion. Why would I go to church to find G-d when He was obviously in the dance studio? Why sing a meaningless hymn when I can dance to a powerful song? Basking in the lime lights of the stage during a performance was easily better than having holy water splashed in my face when I sat too close to the isle.

Countless factors led me to this giant state school rather than the tiny liberal arts college I had planned on since junior high school. I don't know if it was the wrong choice. My life right now is awesome. I love so much of what I do and I would never have had the opportunity to do these things if I'd gone to the baby arts school. But it's hard to find peace sometimes. And it's hard to imagine how I can raise my children effectively without dance. I had never really thought that plan through, anyways. I mean, was I really going to count on a little boy falling in love with dance? Yes, it's a little sexist and gender stereotype-y, but it's a reality of our society. What would have happened when something broke my daughter's heart and pulled her away from dance? That's what happened to me. Then she would have no outlet to connect to G-d. And could I even have taught her about G-d without some religion as the framework?

Am I using Judaism to fill a void? Perhaps. I don't think it's a bad thing. I get some of the same feelings from Judaism that I got from dance. Judaism and dance have things in common for me, but maybe not for other people. After a couple of weeks at Hillel and me getting this one feeling of comfort over and over, I figured out what it was. There's this vibe at Hillel and among Jews. It's hard to explain. But it's the same vibe I felt at the dance studio with my dance girls for fifteen years. It's the same vibe I felt talking to other dancers at competitions who I'd never met. So many of those dancers I knew I wouldn't meet again, but I felt terribly connected to them. I knew their pain, their anguish and they knew mine. We knew each other's joy and our place in the world. This is a vibe I still get when I meet someone at school who grew up in a dance studio and when I hang out with my dance girls from home. I know it will never go away, no matter how long it's been since I last danced. We will always have something to connect us. It's something larger than ourselves and it's something other people just don't get.

This is how every one describes Judaism. Maybe I pick up on it because I've felt it in my life. I perceive this tribe vibe from Jews because I am from a tribe of dancers. Or maybe I pick up on it because I belong to this tribe. Maybe G-d's given me a second chance. Maybe Jews are my second tribe. Or maybe I've found the home I've been looking for my whole life. There is only one way to find out...

The Church & Cigarettes

Remember when I made that New Year's resolution to blog about things within a week of their occurrence? I've totally failed already. This quarter was very insane what with 22 credit hours of class, 3 jobs, and tons of extra curriculars. Excuses, I know. Hopefully I can catch up over spring break and get back on track spring quarter. The next few posts may not be in chronological order, but they all happened in the past two months.

You may recall me saying that the chef at Hillel isn't Jewish (yay gentiles!). Well, one day I went into Hillel to work on some stuff and ordered lunch at the cafe. He called me back into the kitchen to chat while he made my food. He asked me once last year about conversion, but we've gotten a lot closer since then, so he asked again. I told him I am starting to think about it more seriously. He said, you know that's great if you do and what's great about Hillel is they'll welcome you if you convert and they'll welcome you if you don't. Whatever choices you make, people here are going to accept them and be cool with it. Then he asked me about my childhood and religious background. So predictable. I explained the very liberal, open, Catholic household in which I was raised - that my brother went to Catholic school for 7 years but he switched to public schools when I started. The chef was raised Catholic, too, and he told me his excellent story...

He went to Catholic school through the 8th grade. At some point before that, his parents got divorced. Now, if for some reason you are unfamiliar with the Catholic stance on divorce - either you live under a rock or are from Mars - let me explain in a very simple way: it's a BIG NO NO. The official rules say NO DIVORCE in big black letters, bolded and underlined, twice. The Church will still recognize you as married, and they say G-d does, too. A famous case of the Church not allowing divorce is Henry VIII of England. Google it. But I digress. So his parents are divorced. Few years later, his mom wants to get remarried. You may be thinking that the Church said no, absolutely not. False. They said no conditionally. If she were to make a very large donation to the Church, they would recognize her new marriage as valid.

If the word that comes to mind here is hypocrisy then you are spot on. To be perfectly honest, if I had to choose just one word to describe the Catholic Church, it would be hypocrisy. This is terribly ironic because I vividly remember learning this word for the first time in church. At some point in the New Testament, Jesus talks about hypocrites and how they suck and all that. I was about 5 when I heard this word in the second reading during mass. I tugged at my mother's sleeve and asked "Mom, what's hypocrite?" She said "It's someone who says not to do something but then does it anyways." Small child confused look. "Like if someone tells you not to smoke cigarettes then goes and smokes one. That's a hypocrite."

It seems the Church will let you smoke all the cigarettes you want so long as you pay them lots of money. This apparently doesn't violate their moral code in anyway. While my family's experience with the hypocrisy of the Church isn't quite the same as his and maybe isn't as dramatic, it also has to do with their laws on marriage. Not only will the Church not recognize a new marriage after a divorce, they will not recognize any marriage performed outside of the Church, even if it is the first one for both people. Basically, if your marriage does not perfectly fulfill their requirements (save for any monetary bribes or payments) then you're not married to them. So, what I am trying to get at here is that my brother and I weren't supposed to be baptized.

My parents didn't get married in the Church, or in a church at all. They got married at justice of the peace. The Church makes you do a full year of marriage counseling before you can get married. It's to make sure you're compatible or some crap like that. My dad told the priest straight up, "I've been with her for five years. We're compatible. I don't need counseling." When the priest refused to give in, they said fine, we just won't get married here. They had things to do, children to have, lives to build. Well, they actually waited almost 5 more years before having a child but they probably didn't know that at the time. A week or two after my brother was born, my mom calls the church to arrange his baptism. They tell her no. They say she and my dad weren't married in the Church so their son isn't a legitimate child and cannot be baptized. They will need to be remarried in the Church and then he can be baptized. Oh damn, were my parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents mad. Like my parents were really going to get re-married? They don't have time to be re-married, especially with all the hoops a Catholic marriage entails. My grandma and great-grandma went to the church and had a word with the priest. Then my brother was baptized.

What happened? I always got the impression my grandma and great-grandma pulled the money card. You threaten to take away that regular donation from a long-standing Catholic family, and you're gonna have issues. That's why the priest gave in. There were no problems when my baptism rolled around, although it was performed at a much later date than normal (3 months after I was born). I guess no one was concerned about the fate of my soul being stuck in limbo for all of eternity. Probably because that doesn't happen.

So the chef finished that year in his Catholic school so he could be confirmed, but his brother was taken out of school right after that episode. His mom sat them down and said you guys are old enough to decide for yourselves what you want to do, but I am not going to go to church there anymore. So they didn't go to a Catholic church anymore. Sometimes he and his family now go to a non-denominational church, but they're not very religious. He likes to talk about G-d without calling him any name, i.e. Jesus, and without drawing any pictures, i.e. of Jesus, which I think is pretty cool. It makes me feel better that I can see the options for my future in him and other people at Hillel. Though at this point I would rather do the work to convert to Judaism than have no religion at all, at least I know I have another good avenue to go on.