Conversion

Conversion to Judaism—conversion to anything—is a complicated business of opportunity and interruption. It used to be the case that candidates were discouraged by the gatekeepers. The idea was that you had to present yourself at the door at least three times to prove your sincerity. The supervising rabbi would turn you away to test your resolve and the seriousness of your intent. I’ve never met anyone to whom this occurred, but I’ll take the word of the traditional texts.

Whatever once happened, that is no longer the case, except, I suppose, at the zealous end of the spectrum. Someone who wants a Jewish life is generally (and gently) welcomed. Imagine the Biblical Ruth being swept along by Naomi. There is a course of study, meetings with a rabbi and, most importantly, a process of joining. The key thing is to find a place in the community where a convert feels a sense of being existentially at home. That means at-homeness on many different levels. The candidate has to like being with Jews, the way they talk and move and celebrate. S/he has to choose a style of observance—rituals and practices that make intuitive sense. There is the question of our relationship with the State of Israel and the prevailing social liberalism of the community. Some people who come out of a conservative upbringing may love the rhythms of Jewish ritual life, but stumble over the attitudinal issues.

Many people make it to their final goal. They are seekers and thinkers or “simply” in love. People used to be wary of candidates in the second category, but that is no longer the case. The assumption is that someone who loves a Jewish person may be partly attracted to the Jewishness of the beloved. If they want to convert, it’s an honor to the tribe.

But some people never get beyond square one. I had a conversation recently with someone who was thinking. She was typical of the person I have frequently encountered: worldly, cosmopolitan, skeptical, modernist. She liked everything she knew about the Jewish People and felt that we could be a natural landing place. But she was uncomfortable with the part about belief in God. What she meant by that is what nearly everyone means: belief in a supernatural, interventionist God who controls the course of history and individual human life. A God, in other words, who welcomes petitionary prayer and responds to the cry of the human heart in ways that are immediate, measurable, and concrete.

There are probably days where I share that view, but they are days when I’m feeling particularly desperate. I believe, instead, in an orderly universe that is riddled with domains of chaotic dysfunction for which the only remedy is loving community. If I read out of my world the population of Jews who are not attracted to the idea of a supernatural God, there would be very few Jews on my side of the line. Even if they believe, it’s a sidebar issue. Jewish identity is only partly about theological commitments.

The upshot here is that there is room in my universe for a caring new Jew who happens to have doubts. The short version is that I have them, too. In the decade before I stepped down from my pulpit, I re-wrote the questions that we ask of candidates. It’s no longer the traditional inquiry about God—”Do you believe in a God who created the universe and did a bunch of other things in Jewish history?—but a question about possibility and the nature of the world. I’ve written several versions along the way, but the last iteration asks if the convert-to-be could imagine the possibility that there is a great force in the universe that orders life and creation and offers us love and acceptance.

There are very few people who would say no to that. I’m not sure I’ll leave much of a legacy behind, but this is one of the decisions that brings me satisfaction. I have tried to actively make room in the Jewish world for newcomers who want to be among the People Israel, without being forced into the mold of pious literalism. Traditional piety doesn’t work for me. I figure that there are other ways to be a good Jew.

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I keep forgetting to say that this article, like all the others on this platform, was written without the use of artificial intelligence. It’s the actual product of a struggling human mind and reflects a basic comfort with inherent imperfection.