Challenging the Norm

Last year, I took an English class in which our major focuses were feminism and sexuality. Women's lit classes tend to be that way, but it was honestly one of the most beneficial classes I have taken in college. The best classes are the ones that help you grow as a person, and this particular class helped me understand conversion and Jewish identity better than any Jewish studies class I've taken. Feminist and queer studies are all about challenging the status quo. The feminist movement is about moving away from gender stereotypes ingrained in our society. Our final project was about challenging the norm and we had to use three different texts to discuss the ideas (obviously more complex than what I am telling you). There was a creative option to this prompt: use yourself as one of the three texts. 

At first, I wasn't thrilled at the idea of telling a college professor my story. But as she told us the last day, she was very honest and much more open than she normally is in class because the point at the end was for us to take a risk and put ourselves in the work we'd done all quarter. Since this was one of the best classes I'd taken and she had been terribly honest, I felt obligated to be equally as honest. So I took the creative option, and I learned a lot about myself in doing so.

Converting to Judaism isn't just about changing your religious affiliation, not in this country. If you're in Israel and you convert, then you're joining the majority. But in the Diaspora, you're joining a minority. In the west, you're joining the minority that has, historically, been persecuted by the majority religion and is extremely misunderstood by the majority. Christianity has inseparable ties to Judaism, historically and religiously. When you convert to Judaism, you have to face the questions from your Christian family and friends "Why are you doing this?" and maybe even "Why are you rejecting Jesus?" You walk away from the normative culture when you convert to Judaism. It's not really about rejecting Christianity or Jesus; it's about other people seeing it that way. You have to deal with people's views about non-Christian religions and the Jewish religion.

Whether or not we want it to be this way, converting to Judaism is a challenge to the norm and we have to accept the consequences of embracing that challenge. This is where a lot the emotional stress of converting comes from. Even though I see myself as already having shed the Christian identity my parents gave me, many people might not recognize that. I have to go through their process of shedding that identity they see me having.

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The Project

*please note that I did oversimplify a few things for this.

The Story:

I am one of .03% of people in this country who identify JBC. Watch.

The Norm:

Despite our constitution saying that government shall establish no religion, some

people think it should. The majority of our country is Christian and most people,

especially in small towns, take for granted that other religions even exist. Because

the pilgrims were Puritan Christians fleeing the mainline Protestant persecution

in England, people think that our Founding Fathers founded Christianity here.

The idea of this norm is furthered by the strong proselytizing nature of

Christianity. It's ultimate goal (at least at its inception) is for all the world to be

Christian, so many Christians have a hard time accepting that anyone would

willingly be non-Christian.

The Reality:

Over three-fourths of our country identify as Christians. But the next

largest religious group, is all together non-religious: atheists, agnostics,

and otherwise unassociated come in at about 15%. Right now, Jews are

the third largest religious group in America but because Islam is a

proselytizing religion, it will soon surpass Judaism in size. Eastern

religious such as Buddhism, Hinduism, Skihism, and Baha'i also exist in

America. There are also Free Masons, Wiccas, Scientologists, and

Universal Unitarianists. Regardless of how small the numbers of these

groups are, they are examples beyond the norm.

The Challenge:

The challenge for me and for all Jews is to face Christians who fervently believe that Jesus was the Jewish Messiah and that Jews are stubborn for not accepting this. Most Christians have not the slightest idea why Jesus was not the Messiah (mainly, no peace on Earth) and that Christian theology has now diverged from that Jewish belief to include a son of G-d which conflicts with traditional monotheism. It's not fun to be told you're going to hell, but it happens. What may be more challenging is antisemitism from the average Joe Shmoe. I can't tell you how many times people have told me "antisemitism doesn't exist anymore." People have no idea when they're being antisemitic. Challenging people's assumptions about what Jews believe, how they act, and fighting antisemitism is twice the convert's job because he/she knows and comes into contact with so many nonJews/Christians. Christians want to know WHY? What are you doing? WHY are you REJECTING Jesus Christ/the lord/savior/son of god/messiah???? It's very simple: he was not Adonai, the G-d of Jacob, Isaac, and Abraham. But I am in a unique position to teach people about Judaism/other than Christian-religions. My roommates from freshman year surprisingly love to learn about this complex religion/people. They learn a great deal, and are better people for it.

Tomorrow They Will Hate You

According to the tradition, when a gentile comes to a rabbi for conversion, the rabbi is supposed to discourage him/her. The discouragement is supposed to be antisemitism (except there was no such name until the 19th century). Tractate Yevamot of the Talmud says:

The rabbis taught: When someone nowadays presents himself for conversion, we say to him: Why do you wish to convert? Are you not aware that nowadays Israelites are careworn, stressed, despised, harassed and persecuted?

Rabbis now a days may word it like this: 

You must know that by converting, people who pay no mind to you today, will hate you tomorrow, simply because you will be Jewish. 

I read this contemporary rabbi's response in one of my books. The second response to the potential convert is much more severe, invoking hatred from the extreme antisemites as the reason not to become a Jew. But it is the Talmud that recognizes the true situation that makes life difficult for Jews and for converts, potential or otherwise. Because the truth is, it's not the Hitlers, Stalins, or Ahmadinejads of the world who could discourage us from being Jewish. They are full of hate and it's disgustingly apparent. All the brilliant minds of this world couldn't change the mind of the committed antisemite. And let's be honest, many people have tried. What we know of all baseless hatred is just that: it's baseless. You can't pull the rug out from under them because there is no rug. They have no reason other than hate to hate, so convincing them into understanding, tolerance, or acceptance is simply not possible. You just ignore them best you can and live your life as a G-d fearing, Torah loving Jew. 


It's not the extremists who really hurt you with their opinions. It's the rest of the people, the people who are kind in all respects save for those antisemitic sentiments they quietly harbor. They're appalled by the Holocaust but believe Jews control the media and the economy. Or they don't understand why Jews are so stubborn as to still not accept Christ after all these years. Or they just dislike Jews for some strange reason. So no, it's not the KKK or the WBC who pain you with their opinions and discourage you from being Jewish. It's the people you know.


It's the person you work for who purposefully offers pork to the Jewish girl and then evilly laughs when she politely declines. And it's that person who despises Israel for no reason other than it's a Jewish country. And it's your friend's mom who laughs hysterically at the idea of you becoming Jewish then offers her disapproving judgment upon realizing it's not a joke. 


But no matter how many antisemitic incidents you pile onto this list, they could never out weigh the Torah. Throw as many cons and negatives at us as you want, rabbi - world, nothing can discourage a life studying and living Torah once you realize its potential. It might sound trite or it might sound idealistic, but it's true. Once the idea of Jewish has entered your mind, heart, and ultimately soul, there is no turning back. And dealing with the antisemitism is part of the deal, and it's worth it, quite honestly. It is a gift to be a Jew, whether you were born one or get to choose that life as an adult, and nothing with great rewards and beauty can come completely free. If dealing with hateful, ignorant people is the cost to living life according to the Jewish calendar, getting to study Torah, and serving G-d through tikkun olam, tzedakah, and gemilut chasadim, then so be it. 


Discourage me all you want, rabbi; antisemitism is negligible in this consideration. Antisemitism is nothing when we consider all that G-d has to offer.

Converts becoming Rabbis

Apparently, it’s really common for converts to Judaism to become rabbis. Hell, one of our Hillel rabbis is one of them. Another of them wrote the book The Choosing, which you all need to read. One of my friends told me not to be the “stereotypical convert.” He asked me not to become a rabbi. I knew that there were people who converted and became rabbis, but I wasn’t aware that it was some kind of stereotype in the Jewish community. Rabbis Hillel and Akiva were both descendents of converts – this is often cited as proof of the good converts bring to the Jewish people. Basically, converts are no less capable of being leaders in the Jewish community than born Jews. But the idea today is that converts get excited about their learning and Judaism and want to continue it, so they become rabbis. I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. If you love something so much of course you would want to help others find that same love and of course you would want a profession where you could be totally immersed in the thing you love.

I thought about what my friend said to me, and honestly, it’s a silly thought. Me, a rabbi? I would make a terrible rabbi. My voice is terrible, I don’t like when crowds of people are looking at me, and I take things way too personally. I become invested in people I shouldn’t become invested in. I will worry about them day and night. (I have to deal with this as a future teacher.) Plus, I just don’t want to be a rabbi. I wonder if converts really do just get excited and become rabbis, not really thinking about the job that “rabbi” brings with it. As a congregational rabbi, the congregation is your boss but you’re the authority. What a complicated relationship. You’re responsible for children, teens, adults, and the elderly. Plus all the interfaith stuff that happens in big cities these days. Sure, you can choose not to participate but that won’t help bring peace to your Jewish community. I don’t think I’d ever be comfortable doing interfaith work as the sole representative of Judaism in dialogue with a priest. It would just weird me out too much.

Becoming a rabbi is a big commitment and it can’t be made lightly. I’ve seen the way converts can burn out on Judaism. They don’t give up (well, I’m sure some have). But they go in observant/committed and after a few years they’re tired of it. It’s hard… Now, add in being a rabbi to that. You’ve spent years of your life plus tons of money on an education for a job you maybe don’t want or aren’t cut out for and then you start resenting the religion that got you into this mess in the first place. I’m not saying this is exactly what happens. I’m just saying it could happen and that’s probably why my friend asked me not to become a rabbi.

I’m not thinking of becoming a rabbi. Since I was 16, I have been committed to becoming a teacher. That dream has changed slightly in that I’ve changed which subject and which type of school I want to teach in. But other than those two things, I’ve been consistent with my life goal and from the beginning I’ve found Judaism to go right along with it. Judaism values education and educators. Judaism values civil rights and equality. Judaism values the individual. I never once thought of changing my life course because of Judaism. I think about Judaism enhancing the course I’ve been on since I was in the tenth grade when a teacher half-heartedly asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I want Judaism to help make me a better person and a better teacher, because that’s who I am. I don’t want Judaism to change me. Becoming a rabbi would be changing who I am, and that’s not OK. No matter how much I love Judaism and love learning about it, I can’t change who I am.

Luckily, Judaism values life-long learning. I can take as many classes as want at my synagogue or JCC. If I ever save up enough, I could study at Pardes or another university in Israel one summer. My learning won’t cease after the mikvah and it wouldn’t have to if I didn’t go to rabbinical school. And one day, G-d willing, I will get to teach Judaism to my children. That is all I need.

Looking Down on Others

Never look down on anybody unless you’re helping him up – Jesse Jackson

At one of our recent Torah study sessions, my friend explained the Jewish world in an interesting way to me. Jews look down on those who do more and those who do less than they do. For example, a Conservative Jew doesn’t understand why the Reform don’t observe Jewish Law as much as he/she does, but looks down on the Orthodox for doing more. The idea is that you’re lazy if you do less and you’re crazy if you want to do more than *I* do. Now, most Jews might not admit this and definitely wouldn’t word it this way, but he has a point. Among the movements, there is a lot of tension. They all have different ideas. But what it always comes back to is level of observance and I think this can be the hardest thing for converts to deal with. My friend for a long time was struggling with what kind of Jew he is but ultimately concluded he was still a Conservative Jew, because he was raised that way. Converts have to pick for themselves what movement to associate with and what level to observe the various laws. The whole looking down on anyone who observes differently than you do is annoying, superficial, but somewhat true, at least in my experiences.

Here’s how I know his explanation of the Jewish World is true. I’ve been a running joke in my friend group for almost the last year and a half. I try not to let it get to me, but it’s really getting old. Every time I know something, people laugh. Of course I know, I read about Judaism and the Jewish world for hours a day, why is that funny? When people find out I study Torah with this friend, most people find that strange and ask why. You’re going to services on Saturday morning, why? You’re going to an Orthodox Seder and not the Hillel Seder? Why? Why not? Some people are over it; some people are not. The question is becoming more important to me as I move deeper in my journey because this joke could turn into, “well you’re not actually Jewish” or “you’re not a born Jew” once I’m converted. I mean, people have already made comments like that to me. I know that this is an unavoidable part of being a convert, but it’s not cool when it’s coming from people you trust. How could I ever stand up to strangers if I can’t even deal with my friends who don’t like when I’m more observant or knowledgeable than they are? 

See, my friend let’s me disagree with him. He’s a pluralist in that way. But most Jews I meet are not, even if they think they are. If they’re Reform, they’re Reform because they like being Reform and don’t really get the Orthodox. If they’re Orthodox they don’t understand any movement that doesn’t accept and observe the Torah as the literal word from G-d. It’s really tough. For the sake of argument, let’s say there are 15 million Jews in the world (different censuses say different things). That means there are 15 million ways to be a Jew. And we add one more for every convert who joins the tribe. No two Jews are the same. Judaism is almost 4,000 years old. There is a lot to be learned and infinitely many ways to interpret the Torah. If someone finds meaning in the way they observe, why do you get to look down on them? Ask yourself first if you find meaning in the way you’re observing or if you’re doing things blindly. Ask yourself is this what G-d intended when He commanded this action? 

The G-d of our Fathers

I feel like it’s a pretty common thing for converts to research their family trees looking for Jews. We want to know if we are inheriting something, perhaps it’s like a gene that has skipped several generations or the people before us ignore it or were unable to act on it for whatever reason. In general, people want to know where they come from. This is why ancestry.com is a flourishing online business. I actually did the two week free trial last fall through ancestry.com and I learned some pretty interesting things.

First, let’s start with what I already knew. My father’s mother’s father was a Jew. He converted to Lutheranism. My grandma was raised a Lutheran then converted to Catholicism when she met my grandpa. It was a big drama at the time because Christians are suspicious of Catholics, obviously. No one ever really knew why my great-grandfather converted away from Judaism or when. He didn’t talk about it much. This makes perfect sense if you think about it. He took on a new religion that believes Jews are damned to hell. Why would he talk about ever having been one? And back then, people didn’t discuss personal things like that anyways; I can’t imagine religious conversion coming up for family conversation.

When I started searching on ancestry.com, I eventually found my great-grandfather. I had sat with my grandma to find out her grandparents names to make sure I was finding the right people. Eventually I found his parents who were born in Saratov, Russia. I had never heard of this city. I looked it up. It falls outside where the Pale of the Settlement was (where most Russian Jews lived). I thought maybe he wasn’t Jewish and it was a strange family rumor that had started. He was strange so someone said he was a Jew, my grandma heard it and told my dad who told me? I researched this little town further and I came to the conclusion that my grandma was right all along: he was Jewish and his parents lived in a Jewish town.

Saratov was a small town with about 40 Jews living in it. It was one of the few towns outside of the Pale where Jews could live successfully. The only reason I was able to learn any of this about Saratov is because the town makes the history books for sad reasons. In 1853 there was a blood libel case. [If you don’t know, blood libel cases are when Christians accuse Jews of using a Christian’s blood – usually a child’s – for ritual sacrifice, common around Passover because of the link to the Pascal Sacrifice. If a Christian child were found dead, Jews were blamed.] Two Christian children were found dead. Different sources say different things, but I know that Jews were hanged for it. Some say up to eleven Jews were accused. I don’t know exactly what happened with my family but I have made a pretty good guess that aligns with a standard course of action for Jews in this time. I’m guessing that my Jewish family (parents, grandparents, children) all converted to Christianity because of blood libel and other forms of antisemitism. Like Rabbi Joseph Telushkin explains, their goal was not to become Christian to be saved but to become goyim to avoid antisemitism. The ironic thing was, they eventually came to America where they would have been free to be their Jewish selves.

Why does this matter? Because it’s a part of my family history and it has informed who I am. It matters in the same way it matters that I know where my other great-grandma and grandpa came from. I know the name and location of their home-town and the story of how they got here. Also, because of ancestry.com I learned a lot about my mom’s side of the family. One line of her family has been here since the Mayflower, literally, and the men have fought in every major war our country has been in. I can find out information about them going back to the 1300s.

I’ve told one or two Jews the story of my Jewish family, and to my surprise – or, more so, dismay – they find this highly irrelevant and uninteresting. It’s like I just told them the weather report for the day. But when I tell them my mom’s family has been here since the Mayflower and that they fought in the American Revolution, they find that highly interesting. I really wonder why that is? The ancestor who fought in the Revolution is so many generations ago that I don’t even know how many greats I’d have to add to grandpa to describe him. In fact, I don’t even know his name. That’s cool but knowing my Jewish history is not? I really don’t get it because it is very important to me. To know I have Jews in my family line matters to me. To say “the G-d of our Fathers” in a prayer doesn’t just mean spiritual fathers for me, it’s literal. I have Jewish ancestry so I feel sincere when I say those words. I invoke this history when I say those words. Before my great-grandfather converted, Judaism could have been in his family for centuries. He could have been a kohane or a levite. It matters to me, because this person, who I never met, was Jewish and informs – in some small way – my Jewish identity.  

Reflections on the Shoah

I mentioned forever ago that I had this internship at Hillel -- the Holocaust Awareness Internship. Basically, I was responsible for planning the week of Holocaust remembrance activities around Yom HaShoah. And basically, it was the most stressful job of my life. Our programs were huge and we planned months in advance. They turned out beautifully. But let's face it, it's the Shoah. It's too much. I couldn't breathe for months. Don't get me wrong, I've studied the Holocaust many times in my life. I have been since I was ten years old. Quite honestly, we weren't studying it much during this internship. It was just there, around us all the time. I missed class one day, which I lied to the professor about where exactly I was, because I had lunch with a survivor instead. I scored the lowest in my math class on our midterm because it was during our 24-hour names' reading vigil and I just didn't care.

I don't know how people can devote their entire lives to studying the Holocaust. I wasn't even around for our first event of the week (a remembrance seder) and by Friday night shabbos I was in tears. I hid in the office while the rabbi welcomed in the angels and the other girls lit candles. I was a wreck. But then I remember that someone has to do it, which is why I did it in the first place. Thousands (maybe millions?) of people devote their lives to the study and remembrance of the Shoah because it is necessary. It is so sad but so true that it is necessary. I've spent a lot of time working with people at the Holocaust Museum in DC and doing different programs there. I've met countless survivors by now. I love the work they do. I often wonder if it was the work I was meant for...

Next year, I am not doing the Hillel internship. I like to tell people that Hillel internships only last one year. But that's not the truth. They were more than willing to make an exception for me because I did such great work. I didn't like working there. It was stressful for non-blog-worthy reasons. But a huge factor is the sadness that comes with the job. The Torah tells us that we must take care of ourselves before taking care of others. And the truth is, I want to devote next year to real Jewish study. Just like born Jews, I don't want my Judaism to be defined by the Holocaust. I want to have time to see the beauty in the 4,000 year old tradition and study the history that in one part includes the Shoah. Because when you study the Shoah, that's all there is. There's nothing else and you can't think straight. Even though I know it's not really possible, the next time I want to think about the Shoah, is Yom HaShoah 2013.

Below is part of a reflection I wrote about being at the Holocaust Museum in DC. and I wanted to include it just because....

After walking the halls of the Holocaust Museum, the wicked child asks, “Where was G-d?” and declares, “G-d is dead. Otherwise, he would not have abandoned His people and allowed the Holocaust to happen.” But the wise child asks, “Where was man?” After all, the wise child notes, it was man who built the gas chambers. It was man who aimed the guns of the Einsatzgruppen. It was man who watched it all happen. The simple child asks, “What has happened?” The Holocaust is such a huge event with so many facets that it is difficult to know where to begin. The silent child does not know what to ask. He is overwhelmed by all that he sees. All of these are legitimate reactions to encountering the Holocaust. Each of these children visits the museum everyday and they may be four years old or they may be ninety-four years old. We are all children when it comes to understanding the Holocaust.

Acts of (Inter)Faith

I just finished reading Acts of Faith: The Story of an American Muslim, the Struggle for the Soul of a Generation by Eboo Patel. And I actually got to meet and hang out with him for a few hours last week end. He is so down to earth and one of the most inspiring people I've ever met. He founded the Interfaith Youth Core which exists on college campuses but also works with high schoolers and the basic idea is for kids of different faiths to do service projects together and have dialogue about it later. The dialogue of course revolves around their many faiths. Through out his book, Eboo shows how all religious traditions exemplify two things. One of which we always think about when we think religion, and one of which we never think when we think religion. 1) All religions consider themselves unique and the best in some way. Religious particularity, if you will. 2) All religions take interfaith relations into consideration. See, that second one throws you off guard. But he really shows in his book how cooperation can be reached if we work at it and that all religions espouse these things. We can respect each other and work together in harmony. Interfaith work is supposed to make you more committed to your own faith.

I loved reading this book and I find it so relevant to today's America/world. But at times, I found myself outside the story. He talks so much about finding his own roots and others finding their roots. When you study other religions, that should bring you closer to your own. He studied Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, and Catholicism which only led him to be a more committed Muslim in the end. If I had been able to get him alone for just five minutes this weekend (or if I had a real email address of his now) I would have asked him "How do converts fit into your idea of interfaith development?" He was so open and vulnerable with himself, that I wouldn't have been afraid to ask him. It was just everyone else around him all the time. I would have outed myself. We weren't really in a religious setting, but a leadership setting, so that wasn't a place I felt comfortable being myself (I should say my Jewish-ish self). I really would love to know his answers because the entire time I was reading those parts of his book I felt like he was telling me to go back to Catholicism. And I wanted to scream back, "But I CAN'T!" What if you can't? What if Jesus isn't the savior? What if the same reason you don't subscribe to Christianity is the same reason I don't want to? How do I fit into the interfaith movement then?

I'm wording it in a childish way, but it is a serious question for me. I very much believe that interfaith is the movement of our time and that we have a responsibility to learn how to coexist. How do converts fit into the interfaith movement? Often, I get remarks from Jews about my Christian background. They range from harmless jokes to a stab right through the center of my soul. They have no idea what it's like to feel responsible for children getting molested. So, no those jokes aren't funny. And no true Catholic supports those priests either, just as no Jew supports the rabbis who behave in the same way. I've dealt with the pain that I put on myself. I don't need others putting it on me. Part of my issue of being in the interfaith movement is the lack of converts to Judaism. We confuse people. People convert to Christianity and Islam all the time. It's totally normal. More than that, it's welcomed. But Jews, in general, don't know how to deal with converts. The fear then becomes how will born Jews react when they hear me discussing another religion. My sincerity is already being questioned. An interfaith discussion can't possibly help. But should I forego my comfort for the sake of interfaith cooperation?

To be honest, I've never really done anything interfaith but I am about to make my family interfaith. It's kind of ironic. I've studied other religions, but I don't think that counts as interfaith study. When I did that, I was looking for something. I was looking for myself in those religions, to see if I could fit. When I saw I didn't fit, I walked away. The only religion I have studied beyond that is Christianity. I have studied for classes, for the sake of my parents, for the sake of understanding where I come from, where I don't come from, where the world is headed, and for the sake of understanding history. But it's always a little uncomfortable for me. I wonder if I really could do the same for other religions. I'm guessing studying Islam or Hinduism wouldn't make me uncomfortable since I wasn't raised in either of them and don't resent them for anything. But a stranger question is, are converts (in Judaism) even allowed to be a part of the interfaith movement? Would a rabbi seriously approve of me partaking in interfaith activities, studying other religions and experiencing different rituals? He would probably tell me I have to wait until after I converted. My guess is, for the foreseeable future I am going to be kept out of the interfaith movement.