Rabbi Janet Marder

October 26, 2007

The Call

The phone rings and it is your child calling with some important news. Your child who married out of the faith. Your child who has, little by little, been adopting some of the practices of that other religion, drawing closer to the in-laws and their ways, celebrating their holidays and not yours.  Your child who announced to you a few years back that your future grandchildren would be raised in that other religion, with practices foreign to you, because it was very, very important to your child’s spouse. And now it is your child on the phone with one more piece of news to break to you: your child has now decided that the time has come to convert.

Your child is waiting for your response, and it is hard to know what to say. Maybe you are pretty casual about religion yourself; it’s never been too important to you, and you are a bit puzzled about why it’s such a big deal to your child. Maybe you are simply relieved that your child has outgrown that adolescent rebellion against organized religion and is now embracing something, anything. Maybe you are the kind of parent who celebrates every twist and turn in your child’s lifelong journey, no matter what sort of path it may be.

Or maybe this is the devastating news you’ve been dreading for years, and you feel like you’ve just been kicked in the stomach. The faith and tradition you wanted so much to share with your children and pass along to your grandchildren will, it seems, end with you. Your dream is dead.

Your child says you shouldn’t take this conversion as a personal rejection – it’s meant to convey no disrespect for your teachings – but you feel rejected, judged and found wanting, even so. What you gave your child was, it seems, not good enough. The family life your child experienced growing up will, it seems, not be the family life your child now wants to create. What can you say? Your heart is broken.

Every conversion contains many stories. From the perspective of the newly-chosen faith, conversion is a story of personal growth, joy and celebration. From the perspective of the old faith left behind, it is a story about loss and disappointment and the breaking of a chain. I never forget this double-edged reality, and the powerful emotions that may accompany the passage from one religion to another.

Our own story, the Jewish story, was launched by a man who broke his parents’ hearts even as the midrash says he shattered their idols and broke away from their home.

Abraham is the prototype of every Jewish convert today. Like Abraham, those who convert to Judaism depart from the familiar path of their ancestors to choose a different road – sometimes a road that is lonely and difficult. Like Abraham, the convert responds to a call to go forward into an unknown land. Like Abraham, the convert acts out of courage and integrity and love.

Once upon a time, there was no such thing as conversion to Judaism. In Biblical times foreigners joined the Israelite people simply by marrying a member of the tribe. Presumably, it was mostly non-Israelite women who did the marrying in. Until the time of Ezra, in the 5^th century B.C.E., Jewish status was determined through the father’s line. Joining the community of Israel was primarily a political or ethnic matter, not a matter of intellectual conviction or spiritual belief.

Within the Hebrew Bible, we see a quarrel about the merits of welcoming non-Jews into the community through marriage or simple absorption. The book of Ezra strongly repudiates the practice. Ezra, written after the Babylonian exile, reflects a concern that the vulnerable Israelites will be further weakened, their identity diluted, by the presence of many non-Israelite spouses.

The book of Ruth, in response, strongly endorses the practice of welcoming non-Israelites into the community of Israel . Ruth sets the pattern for many non-Jewish spouses to come. She chooses to join herself to the Jewish people and its God, not because the clouds open and she has a sudden theological revelation, but out of love for another person.

Ruth is not criticized for that motive; nowhere does the Bible say that she should have made a more rational, disinterested choice based on thorough study of the Jewish religion. Instead, Ruth is honored for the profound depth of her loyalty and devotion. So great is her love for Naomi, her Jewish mother-in-law, that she wants to become part of Naomi’s larger Jewish family, the people of Israel – and she does.

It is only a few centuries later, when the Bible was completed and our Sages were composing the Talmud, that conversion becomes something different. The rabbis no longer see Judaism as a purely ethnic identity that one can attain simply through marriage or absorption into the community. They now understand Judaism as a body of teachings, and entrance into Judaism as a commitment to accept those teachings, just as the Israelites once accepted Torah at Mt. Sinai .

Each conversion, for the Talmudic Sages, was a miniature re-enactment of Sinai. It began with a process of study with a rabbi, and culminated in a formal ritual of welcome, marked by specific ceremonial acts – immersion in a mikvah and, for a man, circumcision or the taking of a symbolic drop of blood.

In Talmudic times each candidate would receive some brief and rudimentary instruction in Judaism. As the Talmud says, “they make known to him a few of the light and a few of the heavy mitzvot. One should take care not to impose on [the candidate] too many commandments nor go into fine details about them.”

Our Sages had no interest in erecting barriers to keep converts out. Clearly, they never imagined that prospective converts should become scholars of Jewish thought or that they should embrace every aspect of halacha or Jewish practice, before being accepted into Judaism. They saw conversion as the beginning of a lifelong journey towards greater Jewish study and practice – the same journey that born Jews are expected to travel.

Our Sages taught that born Jews should never torment converts with words, reminding them of their non-Jewish origins or making them feel unwelcome [rabbinic interpretation of Ex.22:20]. They spoke of the convert as especially beloved by God -- more so, perhaps, than those born as Jews, because the convert makes a lonely journey away from the majority towards embrace of a minority people [Num. Rabba 8:2; Midrash Tehillim 146:8].

“Jews don’t seek converts.” That’s one of the most common beliefs that Jews hold about our own practice, but it was far from the truth in ancient times. Both the Talmud and the New Testament record eager efforts that Jews made to share their teachings with others and invite strangers to join their community. But in the 4^th century C.E., when Constantine made Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire , conversion to Judaism was made a crime punishable by death, which tended to discourage Jewish outreach efforts.

And so it remained until modern times. Jews, so often the target of others’ proselytizing campaigns, mercilessly harassed and tormented throughout the Middle Ages, strongly resisted pressuring others to convert to Judaism.

Besides, the Talmud teaches that righteous people of all faiths have a place in the world to come [Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Laws of Repentance 3:5]. Jews have never believed that others need to become Jewish in order to be “saved” or “completed” or “perfected.”

But tonight I want to offer an invitation to conversion. I don’t address this invitation to anyone who is committed to another faith or tradition. You have my respect and the respect of our community, and we would never wish to denigrate your own allegiances.

But if you’re uncommitted, or if you’re standing on the margins of the Jewish community, wondering if you’ll ever take the next step and jump all the way in…then, yes, I am talking to you.

I know there are some myths about conversion to Judaism that are prevalent these days. One is that it’s impossible to convert: you have to be born Jewish and have imbibed gefilte fish at your mother’s bosom or you’ll never truly understand Jewish jokes and be accepted as a member of the tribe. 

Another myth is that you have to be a glutton for punishment to undertake the conversion process. Rabbis will greet you with suspicion, skeptical of your motives, accusing you of insincerity and opportunism; they will push you away and tell you you need to get your head examined.

Or the rabbis will put you through a multi-year post-graduate course in Jewish philosophy and history, loading you down with thick, ancient tomes until your back is bent and you’re wearing Coke-bottle glasses on your nose.

Or those same rabbis will examine you minutely on every aspect of Jewish theology, sternly grilling you to make sure you believe devoutly in a miraculous God sitting in heaven pulling the strings for everybody here on earth.

None of those things are true. Those who come to a Beth Am rabbi, or any Reform rabbi, to inquire about conversion, will be greeted with delight.  We do want to hear about your journey. There will be a study process. It is enriching and stimulating but not unmanageable for those who also want to have a life. It is flexible, depending on what else is going on in your life.

Questions, debates and dialogue are encouraged throughout the process. Conversion to Judaism requires a commitment to the basics of Jewish teaching and the Jewish people, but there is no orthodox doctrine of God that must be embraced.  For Jews, doctrine is always less important than practice. And you need not declare your intention to convert at the outset of the process – only your desire to learn more.

One myth that’s out there is, I’m sorry to say, at least partially true. And that’s the idea that if you get interested in conversion, many born Jews may put roadblocks on your path. A few weeks back, when I convened a focus group of Beth Am members who had converted to Judaism over the years, I asked them how their decision to convert was greeted by their Jewish acquaintances. All of them responded that they’d met at least one Jew who asked them why in the world they’d want to be crazy enough to become Jewish.

Please – I beg of you: never say such a thing, even in jest, to someone who is exploring conversion. If you can’t offer sincere praise, support and encouragement, at least do not turn them away with cynicism and contempt. Many of those born into Judaism have learned to appreciate the treasure of their own heritage from those who came to it later in life. If you give yourself a chance, it could happen to you.

Maybe the most important, and dangerous, myth that’s circulating out there is that it doesn’t matter whether or not you convert. This is an especially popular myth in the liberal Jewish community, because we have tried so hard to accept and welcome the non-Jews who are in our midst.

We do indeed welcome non-Jews. We are glad to have them as members of our community; we value their presence and we are especially grateful to those who have decided to raise their children as Jews.

If you are not Jewish, you do not have to convert so that the members of Beth Am will embrace you. We will embrace you anyway. We will respect you. But do not imagine, because of this, that the decision to convert has no importance for our community. On the contrary: it makes all the difference in the world.

The moment when a non-Jew decides to become Jewish is like the moment when you decide to stop dating and get married to your beloved. It’s like the moment when a person with a green card decides to become a citizen of the country. You’ve been half-in and half-out for quite a while, but now you want to be all the way in. You want to make a public statement of love and loyalty and identity.

You want to cast your lot with the Jewish people, to claim the Jewish legacy and build the Jewish future. You want to strengthen the community. You want to devote your heart and your hands to the work of the Jewish people. You want to study Torah and argue about Torah; you want your life project to be tikkun olam, healing the world; you want to link your mind and spirit to a 3000 year old tradition; you want to make a Jewish home and cultivate the next generation.

Your decision to take that step will be greeted with joy. We will support you in every way we can. We treasure every soul that is joined to the Jewish people, knowing that converts infuse our community with incredible vitality, enthusiasm and passion. You may well become a leader in the congregation, as many of our present leaders have entered Judaism through the path of conversion. 

Every year around this date I receive a letter from one of our members who writes to me on the anniversary of this member’s personal entrance into the Jewish people. Here’s an excerpt from one recent letter: “I am in love with Judaism. Five years ago I said ‘Hineini – here I am – and I am still here! This past month I’ve thought a lot about my journey to Beth Am…..I know that I am here for good. I feel safe, comforted, warm in the shelter of our “house of the people.” In many ways, I feel like an old timer, an elder, of sorts…..People come to me and ask for instruction. I am new and simple-minded. But, I do have something to offer. I think what I offer most is myself – my open and sincere delight in Judaism. I hope my delight is contagious.”

I’ve had the honor of guiding many men and women as they found their way to the challenge and the comforting shelter of Jewish belonging. This task is one of my greatest privileges as a rabbi. Every single one of my conversion students has been an inspiration to me. Each one remains precious in my heart; each one has been an incomparable gift to the people of Abraham and Sarah.

If you think Judaism is something you might want to explore, I hope you’ll come and see one of our clergy. I promise you that your call for an appointment will be the best call we get all day.