Converting to Judaism

Bloggy silence was due to a bought of depression. Moving away from everything you know and love is bound to weigh you down a bit. I think too much. And my bedroom has blood red walls. For a while there my mind couldn’t find any peace. I’m doing my best to pull out of it. I think I might get a few tapestries to put on a few of these walls. Something light. 

That said, I did have an experience this evening that’s managed to help me pull myself out of the funk quite a bit.

I went to services at Touro Synagogue tonight. 

Two weeks ago I went to Jewish Journeyers, which is essentially a discussion group for people who are considering conversion to Judaism. 

I don’t like that term for it. Conversion. 

While I was sitting in the gorgeous temple, listening to songs in Hebrew about poetically swelling concepts, watching Rabbi Berk bless all of the children (who are being silly wiggle bunnies while everyone laughs), listening to constant mentioning of light and peace and acceptance, and crying just a bit because everything is just really wonderful and beautiful… 

I feel like (and don’t laugh, because when I told Jon he laughed) that maybe I was always meant to be Jewish. I just wasn’t BORN Jewish. Therefore the label of “convert” hurts my feelings a little. It makes me feel like I’m on the outside. I’m really nervous about some people always treating me like I’m… less or different somehow. Obviously that shouldn’t be a problem but it’s a matter of labeling. 

Our society dictates that things/people either are or are not. You are either included or excluded from a descriptor and that puts you in a group. I’m used to that. I am a woman. I am a feminist. Yo soy Chicana. I am a student. I am a poet. I am not the opposite of all of those things. They define me. 

Now I am faced with becoming something. I am going to be Jewish. But what if someone looks at me as, “She is a convert.” Instead? I’m really nervous about that. So nervous that a few friends that I’ve spoken to have noticed my sudden and uncharacteristic insecurity. This isn’t to say that I feel I am making the wrong choice because I have never wanted anything more for my life. 

During Jewish Journeyers Rabbi Berk asked me to introduce myself and tell everyone why I was interested in converting. I said something like, “Well… I was in love with someone who was Jewish. I’d been a little faithless for a while. But things with him were awesome and I think part of that is because of how he was raised. So I started talking about converting for him. But then he broke up with me. I was a little angry… and realized that it didn’t make me feel differently. I guess that’s when I figured out I wanted to convert for myself.” 

 

And Rabbi Berk smiled and said, “I like that. I was a little angry.” 

I’m not angry anymore. But I am very insecure about feeling wanted these days. Unfortunately that insecurity is being projected on something that is really important to me. I’m looking forward to learning more and hopefully that will build my confidence. 

I have enough confidence in my studies and faith to brush off comments like, “You can’t become Jewish because you have tattoos.” Honestly, if my body is my temple and I decide to decorate… well, I don’t think it’s really going to hurt my relationship with God. 

And, “You have to keep kosher.” Listen, I promise not to eat pork and popcorn shrimp every single day. But I am going to continue my cheeseburger when hungover consumption. Again, I think God, while disapproving, can understand that he made certain foods and certain foods that go together… too delish to resist. 

There was also the devastating, “You’ll meet a nice Jewish boy.” I met a nice Jewish boy. He was great! Also dishonest by omission and afraid of confrontation. I’m not doing this to meet nice Jewish boys, because they aren’t any different from any other nice guy on the planet. Everyone has fatal flaws. Boys in general can take a leap into a lake or fly a kite right now. All of them, Jewish or no, need to stay out of my face.