Conversion and Identity: The Loaded Jew

I've recently trawled the net checking out Jewish blogs, especially this one, Michaltastik!, written by a passionate, opinionated Jewess and a convert.  It got me wondering...

Being a proselyte, I find, can engender a loaded identity.  I really want to say, "having been a proselyte".  I fail to understand the need to identify oneself as a convert years later (unless, I guess, you are looking to marry, and that's a whole other story).  Why does it carry so much meaning, for it seems to me that it only carries so much baggage.  I surely can't imagine making a career of it, and yet I have encountered a fair amount of people who seem to do just that.

One might as well identify oneself as a Neojew (with greater emphasis on the 'N' than on the 'j') because we all really need one more formal category to fragment the tribe. In a 'post' or 'trans' denominational Jewish society, heck, what's one more division?  Neojews should start their own movement, like the Ba'al Teshuva movement, with the tag, "Once I Was Lost and Now I'm Found".  Amazing grace, indeed. Let me be forever stuck with these extraordinary monikers rather than revel in being an ordinary Jew.

It doesn't help that fuelling the Jewish identity juggernaut, around the fringes you get the almighty Orthodox triumphalists who, like rote ridden hamsters, feel it is their religious duty to set us all straight; like trolls, you can identify them by their insistent derailing of cogent online discussion where, parrot-like, they smite us with arguments about cheeseburgers and driving on Shabbat.  Because, of course, these things undermine the very core of Judaism and all Jewish thinking and especially Jewish identity. Oy vey, the drama!

I'm not knocking the facets of identity which we all depend upon to keep us sane and balanced as individuals and by which we are recognised. Without identity, one is truly adrift and forlorn. Those who converted sometimes have stories to tell that born Jews and others can barely fathom. Yet above all else, true religious conversions ('to convert' finds its roots in Latin, convertere, to 'turn around'), stand alone, whether it be Jewish or Christian or Muslim or other.

True conversion is not merely about adopting a different religion; it is an event wherein one encounters G-d and one's hidden self.  Abraham was in essence a convert when he encountered G-d, as were Sarah, and Jacob; their names were changed for a reason that had nothing to do with 'adopting' religious practices.  Moses, even more strongly than they, was the quintessential convert, whose identity was initially hidden until his encounter with G-d; once uncovered, Moses turned around to who he truly was.

Then Ruth came along. Ruth adopted both a religion, and for the first time in spectacular conversion history, a people, and she did it out of love. Unhappily, it seems that it has been forgotten that she was the enactor, the adopter, not the adopted. Sadly, her conversion can superficially be represented as becoming Jewish for all the wrong reasons, often an argument in contemporary times.

In possibility Ruth's conversion may have heralded a contemporary veiling of that initial truth, of conversion as a 'turning around', as an uncovering of identity after an encounter with G-d. Instead, she becomes a gioret (masc., ger), forever identified as a stranger.  So now we argue fruitlessly about "who is a Jew".  In my opinion, we are asking the wrong question and it is not a good question either.

Today, yes, you bring with you all the experiences from the past which will always remain a part of you. But they are not always religious experiences just as they may not be for born Jews. When you bring all of yourself to a Jewish present, your past makes not one iota of difference to your Jewish identity which is shaped by one's encounter with G-d and/or an encounter with other aspects of being Jewish. If you question Jewish identity, then you are looking and living on the surface, whether Neojew or born Jew; the question of identity will always haunt you and harangue you and others and undermine Judaism and the Jewish people.

Mordecai Kaplan described Judaism as an evolving religious civilisation.  That is not a belief I share but it makes me wonder.  When so many of the Orthodox, at least online, and so many big macher rabbis are concerned with the minutiae of practice and developing greater and greater stringencies within halakha,  when the social consequences of people's religious practices take centre stage, it makes me wonder if he wasn't a bit prophetic (if you substitute 'devolving' for 'evolving') .  Here it seems that Judaism is becoming more and more "man-made" in the sense that enhancing the encounter with G-d is irrelevant. Jews are becoming strangers to their own religion.

And perhaps it takes someone who was once on the outside to point that out, and that people convert or return for all sorts of reasons, but the one I think that is most powerful is an encounter with G-d, echoing the paths of our spiritual kindred. Converting people to a godless model, on the other hand, is simply unJewish (cf this cogent argument for being Orthoprax and how that relates to Jewish identity).

I think that G-d does work in mysterious ways. You may convert to marry a Jew or Jewess and then it snowballs from there or it doesn't. But if it snowballs, there is some encounter with the core identity, the Jew you were meant to be but was denied you at your birth. In some ways, we are like Esau, whose birthright was stolen. And I don't know about anyone else but the coarseness and sensuousness of Esau is as much a part of me as Jacob the delicate geek (as represented by the Sages) studying in tents.  Meeting Jacob is the crucial moment, becoming Israel matters more than anything, and after that, wrestling with G-d is the constant refrain.... just like any other Jew for whom Judaism encompasses more than ethnic/religious/social identity.

The core identity does not rely on a religious society and its norms. Community is all important, especially in Judaism,  but on some level religious identity transcends religious society and its norms.  In my experience community is there to keep you going and keep you growing. It can be a nurturing, inspirational environment, the kind that encourages one to aspire more, do more, study more, be more; and it provides support and hope.  On the downside it can be alienating and strangle all expression and wrestling with G-d, just like the rote ridden hamsters.

The experience of conversion, the moment when you are called, and when you decide to answer that call from G-d, who points you in the direction of home, is unspeakable. It is not in the ritual or in attending to religious norms.  It is so powerful that it sweeps you along with perfect faith and certainty that this is what G-d intended and that G-d will help you see it through; it made me fearless in that pursuit.  To see the raised Torah scroll was the validation, because I finally met myself.

When you go through the ritual of conversion you dissolve into the tribe, and you are absorbed. It happens because of G-d, not because of the tribe, and because of G-d some of the tribe accepts and receives you. You bring your unique self to the community just like any other Jew, not your identity as a convert, unless you are invested in being a Neojew.

Yes, in day-to-day sharing and relating, it can be awkward when born Jews speak of their past, their family experiences, things you were deprived of in terms of Jewish experience. But, in my opinion that is a relatively small thing, unless that is all that matters or is a relatively big thing in a community. What you carry with you is a remarkable story and experience intimately shared with our spiritual ancestors. What you carry with you is the fact that your soul was Jewish from day one and that you are no different than any other Jewish soul. There is no need for a Neojewish identity, for you have simply uncovered what was always there. The rest is merely commentary.

Whose Life Is It, Anyway?

"Your life becomes not your own"

Those were the last words I said today, in parting from a woman who has decided to convert to Judaism. More specifically, as we hugged good-bye, I heard myself saying, "There is something important you need to know when you choose. Your life becomes not your own."

I am not thinking about restrictions, prohibitions, proscriptions, stringencies, fences, or anything to do with culture, minhag (custom), or community. Not even hashkafa (outlook). I am thinking about binding.

Several things come to mind- tefillin, Isaac, brit (covenant). But it is a long way to getting there.

Today was a day imbued with moments of deep pain. I met with the aforementioned woman, because she wanted input on converting (let's call her Rivka)- what to study, what to know. She is rather hell-bent on getting through the study part so she can convert. I told her it would take at least a year and told her what she needed to do and read. I studied and lived as a Jew for 2 years before I knew I was ready. She is taking a course in the fall. I did not take any courses. I studied 24/7 from books and the internet; central places were Aish HaTorah, and Chabad online, which are founts of knowledge in their outreach, as well as many many many books. I also had the blissfully ignorant chutzpah to go onto message boards and debate other Jews, and Christians; I learned a lot- scrambling to research my proofs, and from wonderfully learned Jewish minds. If I had essential questions I asked the Aish rabbi. Later on, my own rabbi guided me.

And, hey, aren't I the perfect person to do the convert thing? At my old shul, the rabbi used to steer every new possibility and inquiring potential my way, during oneg or kiddush. Can't say I made much of a difference. I welcomed them and their questions, offered help, and then rarely saw them until they had converted. And then I rarely saw them afterwards. I think that my feeling of disappointment was personal- it would have been nice to have more kindred spirits. And there was one....but that's a story for another day.

Suffice it to say that "Rivka" was hungry for some knowledge. And I think that it is more than a truism, that "more than the calf wants to suck, the cow wants to suckle". I find this saying peculiarly Jewish. Especially fitting, I think, amongst learned Jews. And to me, "learned" encompasses anyone who has a sustained interest in living Jewishly. It is true, I have found, that we can learn from everyone. But even more so, there are Jews out there dying to share. I love it.

Well, "Rivka" was divorced at 26 and raised 2 children. Awesome. Through work, online, she met someone in Southern California, who happens to be an Orthodox pulpit rabbi, and a year later they met and are in love. "Rivka" asserts that her desire for conversion has less to do with him and more to do with discovering that she has a Jewish soul. I believe her. But she would like to push the conversion through, because she wants to be with him. This is a woman who has waited a couple of decades for her bashert and both are convinced that it is, indeed, bashert. And they are no spring chickens!

When she was down in the area around LA, she went to her honey's shul, met the congregants, even met his friends. They think quite highly of her, and already have "Rivka" and her rabbi honey married. My feeling is that they are gonna push for this match. He knows that she is converting Conservative, because it's a Jew wasteland here, relatively speaking (and one reason I went to LA to convert). But I forgot to tell her that Conservative conversions are not recognised by O. I forgot because I don't think of it. I think about her earnestness and sincerity. Her Jewish soul. Yet I do think she should convert O simply because it would make her life (and his) a whole lot easier; but even more so, I think that given the option, that that would be her choice. I will have to tell her soon. How could I forget??? I was so busy telling her about halacha and aggadah and Shabbat and Pesach and kashrut, etc., etc. Ya think I would have remembered something so essential!

She spoke about her delight in this relationship and how it warms her heart, for the first time in her life. She has waited a long time....I was married a long time and when the roof fell in, it was easy for him to move on, he who didn't even care whether G-d existed or not, while I had found G-d and Judaism, so that among other concerns, I could no longer stay in the marriage. And who does she end up with? A devout, learned Jew who asked her where she would like to live, in the future, and she says "Jerusalem" and he agrees to it. Well, now it is the hills of Galilee.

And I find it a kind of weird, perhaps, poetic justice, or irony, or cosmic joke, or challenge, or whatever...that the things that would be a dream for me if I dreamed, are the things that she is this close to possessing, some of which she doesn't even care about (like being in LA).

I miss LA. I was home. It was so full of possibility. Hell, if I was going to remarry I would want someone who loved kindness and who was learned and devout. Passionately so. Preferably someone in LA. And who would be willing to move to Israel even if we didn't. It speaks to my desire and a whole lot of cherishing. Lately, I have encountered people who have recently travelled to LA or are living the life I miss and still long for. A life that is just a blip on their radar, but which means everything to me. I am reminded so much of what I have lost and what I miss so much by the dreams that others seem to be living in my stead. Lately everyone seems to embody my dream. It is painful. I don't get it. It seems a cruel joke.

Envy sucks. Bigtime.

"Rivka's" dreams, her earnestness, the vision and reality of bashert, his delight in her, and gratitude, beyond my own pain, possess a tenderness and a poignancy that cannot be ignored. Oh, I would wish that for everyone! There is such bittersweetness in waiting so long for the one that feels like 'home'. I think that some are favoured, but not all. Some of us, I think, perhaps are looking elsewhere and miss our chance. Or there are other reasons, which I can't even guess at.

I don't know why G-d would place this big honking portrait of true love, and desire and dream before me. What? What? What? Is it a test, a challenge, some spiritual obstacle?! I am clueless.

But I have learned a couple of things: 1) Everyone has their "time". A time for joy, a time for sorrow, a time for life and a time for death- a time for suffering- their time- a time which belongs solely to them. And I have my "time". Everything comes to you sooner or later. Just don't confuse it with anyone else's time. They are mutually exclusive.

2) Humility means to know your place. And that fits with one's own time.
Her life is hers, not mine. My place in the scheme of things cannot be inhabited by anyone else and vice-versa. This, I do believe. Of course, I still feel like the fates are sticking it to me- rubbing my nose in lost and forbidden dreams and mucho grieving. Go figure.

As "Rivka" spoke I received a sense of someone who danced along the edge of shadows and light. Where I can be prosaic about challenges, and what that means in terms of 'releasing the sparks', she spoke in terms of praying to G-d to send dreams to those she felt bound to, to show them harmony and unity- to influence them. I learned something. And my feeling is that she is not going to care about the whys of halacha very much, or any intellectual permutations, yet she will create a Jewish home with a load of love. She will make it sacred, and bring to it delight.

Envy sucks.

"Once you choose, your life becomes not your own." This is my life. Other people live my dreams and my desires. But it is not my life. My life is whatever G-d chooses it to be. When I first laid tefillin, though I loved the shel rosh (the piece for the head)- I felt I was wearing a coronet- to wrap my arm so tightly- well, I struggled for about a year. I felt bound to G-d, as was all my power, and I wasn't consenting to it! For a long while there was not much difference between me and a wild animal, because that leather binding agitated me like crazy- it made me skittish. There was something about such a huge level of commitment, such an enormous sense of naked intimacy in that binding, and even more so, for me, of acknowledgement, that placed the literal fear of G-d in me, and I mean fundamental yirah, not awe, but unadulterated fear.

Before that, I also had the misfortune to feel like Isaac bound upon the altar, suffering enormous psychological trauma, leaving a chasm of silence within me that can never be breached. It was a loss of innocence that is unspeakable. I understand what that parsha means, why there is a gorgeous midrash about the angels in heaven weeping at Isaac's ordeal and their tears washing his eyes and blinding him, and how he could see, it was intimated, beyond human sight. I understand it completely. The Torah is remarkable for its deepest and gravest understanding of human suffering and attempted annihilation. And afterwards, the Torah shows so starkly, how Isaac's silence speaks volumes. With Isaac, there are no words that could ever matter. Torah understands and honours those who have been violated, as does the midrash.

I feel bound to a life that is not my own, but belongs to G-d. I feel bound to the covenant I made with G-d when I became a Jewess. I feel bound to tradition and halacha and the path that G-d has chosen for me, yet also bound by my own free will and reason and sense of integrity, which all round, makes for an uncomfortable life. To top it off, I honestly don't feel it is within my purview, that which happens to me. I am carried along, transported by a life that somehow, for the time being, in some way needs me even if I don't know how. It may not even be a life of my choosing, but this much I do know- that with all my envy and grief and horror and desire, it is true Life. And that is worth everything to me.

Born Jew or Jew-by-choice. Once we choose, our life no longer belongs to us.

But did I mention that envy sucks?