Let's Talk About Conversion to Judaism and Whether a Conversion Can Be Revoked

Photo by Benny Rotlevy

For converts to Judaism, one of the ongoing topics that crops up every now and again is the risk of having their conversion question, revoked, canceled, or retracted after the fact. There is a lot of hype and misinformation on this topic, especially in recent years as Israel and Diaspora rabbinic courts vie for control over the challenging, confusing, and often mysterious world of conversion to Judaism. 

How a Person Converts to Judaism

There are a multitude of paths for conversion to Judaism, no matter whether that conversion is through a Reform, Conservative, or Orthodox bet din (rabbinical court). There are even more reasons that someone chooses to convert to Judaism: 

• They grew up in a Jewish neighborhood or surrounded by Jews and felt a pull to join the Jewish people. 
• They discover they have Jewish ancestors and feel the pull to realize their ethnic and ancestral religion and people. 
• They have a Jewish father but not a Jewish mother and want to be part of the Orthodox community (patrilineal Jews are not considered halachic Jews in Orthodox Judaism and in some Conservative circles).
• They have no connection and don't know a single Jew but learn about Judaism and feel like they're finally at home (hey, this is what happened to me!). 

No matter what draws an individual to Judaism or what stream of Judaism they choose, there are basic steps to complete the conversion process:

• Learning: studying the laws, traditions, holidays, observances of Judaism based on whichever movement an individual chooses to convert within
• Living in the Jewish community: most Orthodox conversions require that you live within a community for at least a year so you experience the full cycle of holidays and the Orthodox lifestyle
• Bet din: meeting with a rabbinic court whose members' statuses vary from movement to movement, as some require three Shabbat-observant men while others simply require three individuals be they men or women (I had four rabbis on my bet din!)
• Brit Milah or hatafat dam brit: for men, an actual or symbolic circumcision is required by some movements and not by others
• Mikvah: a dip in the ritual bath is standard among all movements

Fun fact: When the Temple still stood in Jerusalem, conversion also included an animal sacrifice (Keritot 8b-9a)! Makes you wonder if, when the Temple is rebuilt, whether that requirement will be re-upped, right?

The Controversy About Converting to Judaism

Among the many difficulties with conversion to Judaism are the realities that Orthodox Judaism does not accept conversions that take place in Reform, Conservative, or other movements as halachic (legally binding).

The reasoning behind this is that conversion to Judaism, according to Orthodoxy, requires the basic commitment to the mitzvot (613 commandments of the Torah). Non-Orthodox streams of Judaism do not adhere strictly to following the mitzvot, so Rabbis Moshe Feinstein and Yaakov Ariel argued that non-Orthodox conversions are unacceptable according to halacha. 

There are also many complexities involved with the Orthodox conversion process, with standards varying from community to community. Some Orthodox rabbinic courts will accept conversion for marriage, while others will turn away an individual based on the desire to convert to marry a Jew (this goes back to the Talmud, Yevamot 24b).

For all intents and purposes, someone who converts with an Orthodox rabbinic court is fully and completely a Jew from the moment they visit the mikvah at the culmination of the conversion process. They're even considered a Jew if it turns out they did marry strictly for marriage or they stray from Judaism later. In the latter case, the individual should be treated as any other sinning Jew (Bechorot 30b).

However, in recent years there have been cases in which a conversion or a series of conversions performed by a certain bet din or rabbi are called into question. In these cases, an authoritative body has gone through the process of "reviewing" the conversion to determine whether it is, in fact, halachically valid.

The problem with this, unfortunately, is that — according to halacha (law) — only in very specific cases can a conversion be questioned and revoked. In many of these investigations, there is no grounds for an investigation, let alone talk of revocation.

Modern Cases About Revoking Conversions

Up until Emancipation (late 18th to late 19th century) and well into the 20th century, conversion to Judaism was rare and largely unheard of because, in many places, it was illegal to convert to Judaism. In most cases, a non-Jew converted to Judaism in order to marry a Jewish person, but, even still, it was rare. 

Following the Holocaust, conversion to Judaism blossomed and has continued to gain steam well into the 21st century, especially within Orthodox Judaism.

The entire issue of modern conversion nullification has an interesting background that stems from a revocation of a conversion 30 years after the fact so that two individuals with questionable Jewish legal status could legally marry. You can read more about this in the Rabbi Goren case.

Then, in the 1970s, Rabbi Betzalel Zolty nullified a conversion after the rabbinic court discovered that a certain group of individuals were Christian missionaries trying to move to Israel under the Law of Return. Rabbi Yisrael Rozen nullified a conversion after the Israel Interior Ministry found out that a convert was romantically involved with a non-Jewish woman during and after his conversion process.

In 2008 in Israel, a senior rabbinic court headed by Rabbi Avraham Sherman nullified a single conversion performed by a different Israeli rabbinic court. This nullification called into question thousands of conversions performed within the context of the Israeli army and began an investigation into conversion courses established by Israel and overseen by Rabbi Chaim Druckman.

So can you revoke a conversion or not?

Ultimately, the law on conversions and annulment is such:

• If an individual converts under non-ideal circumstances (e.g., for marriage), he or she is still Jewish and the conversion is valid (Yevamot 24b). 
• If an individual converts and sins or strays from the path of Judaism, he or she is still Jewish and the conversion is valid (Bechorot 30b,Yoreh De'ah 248:2). 
• If the rabbinic court fails to investigate the intentions of the convert or even failed to give the individual a proper education prior to the conversion, he or she is still Jewish and the conversion is valid (Yoreh De'ah 248:12). 

The only way that a conversion can be nullified is in cases of fraud. In these types of cases, the individual converting knowingly misleads the rabbinic court regarding their intent to convert. Usually, these types of cases involve Christian missionaries attempting to convert for nefarious reasons, such as moving to Israel under the Law of Return to do missionary work. Talk about shady!

Although there are plenty of terrifying cases that have created uncomfortable situations for converts around the world in recent years, it is very rare and, in fact, highly unlikely that a conversion can or will be revoked.

Yes, plenty of conversions are questioned regularly by individuals who do not know the laws of conversion and how to treat a convert. In these cases, an individual may stray from Judaism following a conversion or do something that calls their knowledge/commitment to Judaism into question. 

But questioning a conversion and nullifying a conversion, are two very different things.

Have questions about converting to Judaism? Let me know! I'm here to help. 

For more about the topic of the nullifying of conversions, check out Shlomo Brody's A Guide to the Complex: Contemporary Halakhic Debates and read Rabbi Gil Student's article "Conservative Annulments."

Conversion, Genetics, and my 23andMe Story

This might be my longest posting gap ... ever. I haven't posted in two months. The excuse? Honestly, I don't know. I have three days a week to myself, where I drown myself in the part-time work I have and running errands against the clock before kids come home and my level of energy for the day crashes at crazy fast rates.

Sigh.

But here I am. Inspired, just a little, to say something. I got a notification from 23andMe.com, where I got some genetic testing done a few months back, to participate in a storytelling mission. Although they didn't accept my story, I thought y'all might want to read the short story I wrote about why I sprang for the 23andMe adventure.

The greatest impetus for me to do 23andMe was to find out if I had any Jewish ancestry, because I chose more than 10 years ago to journey into becoming a Jew. I converted to Judaism, and like many converts, I was immensely curious whether there was a hidden and lost thread of Jewish history in my family background that was trying to peek out through me. For many converts, finding that thread validates their choice to take the complicated and emotional path into conversion. I had done my family's genealogy and found lineage back to the 1700s on both sides thanks to my uncle being Mormon and there being massive research already done on my family. But despite my deepest digging, I only found one mysterious relative who was Polish, and I thought "maybe this is the connection to Ashkenazic Jewry I'm looking for.

Then I got my test results back. Not a lick of Jewish ancestry! As I suspected from my research, lots of British, French, and German in my background, but that's about it. I am, through and through, European, but not Ashkenazic in my genetic background.

In one sense, I was disappointed. I had hoped to find that thread, to know that I had picked up the thread. In another sense, I was proud to know that my compulsion to convert to Judaism and become a member of the Jewish people was truly authentic, completely my own. That it arose out of a place hidden for thousands and thousands of years, as the Jewish tradition says that every soul that converts stood at Sinai and accepted Torah. So, it appears my soul was there. But my ancestors were not. 

And that, friends, is my 23andMe story.

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Additionally, although I didn't say it above, my secondary reason for doing 23andMe was because I was hoping to find maybe some weird genetic marker for an illness or disease, something with insight into what my father has been dealing with for the past several years that remains undiagnosed. Alas, no major markers for any of the diseases or illnesses they catalog. Aside from being prone to being overweight, my genes are pretty good to go.

So, if you'd like to hop on the 23andMe bandwagon and see what your genetics have in store, click here and get a kit (referral link). Then, let me know what you find out!

Come On Baby, Light My Fire!

From Imrei Pinchas, Sha'ar Toras Adam #79, from the amazingly awesome book "Bnei Avraham Ahuvecha: Gerim in Chassidic Thought" by the amazing and inspiring A Simple Jew, aka Dov ben Avraham ...

"Before his geirus, a holy spark falls and burns inside a ger until it compels him to complete his geirus. He is not given any choice in this matter. Only after his geirus is the ger given free choice."

For more deliciousness on kabbalah and the convert's soul, check out this AskMoses posting that I cited back in 2008 on my blog that says,

According to Kabbalah, a convert is one who's soul possesses a latent Jewish spark, was born to a non-Jewish mother, and therefore must undergo the process of a Torah conversion in order for the Jewish spark to be actualized as a Jewish soul. This “non-Jew” is born with a potentially Jewish soul, yet it is not revealed at this point or accessible.

Back in 2009, after taking a month off of blogging because a bad experience I had with something in my conversion process, I came back with a vengeance, saying,

I can't change minds or opinions about my character and whether how I present myself on this blog is appropriate for a modern Orthodox Jewish girl, but what I can do is continue what I started. I can't really finish what I started, because it was never meant to be finished (much like the journey in Judaism is a perpetual one). I'm here to tell my story, discuss Judaism, and to light a fire in all of the people who come across these pages. It is not unheard of here at Just Call Me Chaviva for a Jew to be inspired by something and head to shul that week. If I can light that kind of fire in a Jew, then I think I'm doing some serious good -- I'm helping in the eternal effort to remind Jews to be proud of who they are, to be involved, to develop their Judaism.

Light and fire, folks. In 2010, I wrote,

And, you have to remember, the goal of this blog is not money-making: It's people making. The goal here, is to light a fire under all the souls I can.

Since my blog started having a regular readership, my mission and passion and goal was set: Light a fire, find the spark, and blow it up. This is a piece of tikkun olam, folks. When HaShem created the world, according to Kabbalah, there was light that was held in vessels, kelim. But they couldn't withstand the light, so they broke, and the light shattered like shards in all things. Now, we're tasked with gathering the sparks of light back together. 

For me, the convert that brings that holy spark to the beth din and converts is doing some mighty, amazing, beautiful work of tikkun. Wouldn't you agree? 

This does, however, beg the question: What does it mean when someone begins and pursues a conversion and yet never completes it? How do we explain this phenomenon? Food for thought, I think. And I don't presume to have an answer or even a suggestion.

Stay tuned for more goodies from this amazing book. So much inspiration, so many beautiful pieces of Chassidus that make my heart sing. Let me leave you with this one, which makes me smile.

From one perspective, a ger is closer to becoming a tzaddik than a person born Jewish. If a ger continues serving G-d with the same self-sacrifice he exhibited during the geirus process, he will ascend to untold heights. Perhaps this is one reason why gerim are mentioned before those born Jewish in the Al HaTzadikim blessing in the Amidah. -- Rabbi Micha Golshevsky

Lessons in Jewish Conversion: The Denver and Ne'eman Plans

When I first moved to Denver, I was contacted by all varieties of people detailing the unfortunate (emotionally and financially) situation of conversion in Denver. I wrote about it, and there was a huge outcry in the community that I was both uninformed and out of line. Like any good student, I've spent the past many months educating myself on the Denver situation, and now that I'm not dating a non-Jew and I don't have the intention of dating another non-Jew, I feel like I can put myself back in a place of being a voice. And if not a voice for action, then a voice for education. So I give you a brief history of the infamous Denver Plan.

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In 1977, two Orthodox rabbis -- Eliezer Berkovitz z"l and Steven Riskin -- came to Denver as speakers in adult education programs. Berkovits, a  professor emeritus of Hebrew Theological College in Chicago, warned the Denver community that the "Who is a Jew?" issue was destroying Jewish unity. Riskin, who later became Shlomo Riskin and served as chief rabbi of Efrat, related passates from the Talmud and Rambam that dealt with conversion's lenient attitude concerning the applicant's commitment to observance of the mitzvoth or commandments. Both considered "mavericks" in the community, they had a great impact on Denver Orthodox Rabbi Stanley Wagner.

Within a few weeks of their talks, Rabbi Wagner called together seven Denver rabbis of all denominations determined to find a way to provide for a single, citywide conversion apparatus. A noble cause, even after the failure of the Denver Plan, Orthodox Rabbi Jerome Lipsitz commented, "Why have two separate types of Jews? ... We want to create a Jew all of us can recognize as a Jew." Clearly the effort was called for, but its basic concepts were set for failure.

The meeting with the rabbis resulted in the Denver Plan comprising the following process:

• potential converts would take a class over several months on the fundamentals of Judaism
• the classes would be taught by rabbis across the denominational spectrum of the Jewish community (let's call this holistic Jewish education)
• after the class, a panel of rabbis representing different movements examined the candidate
• participants would agree to basic Jewish observances (fasting on Yom Kippur, joining a synagogue, lighting candles on Shabbat and holidays) 
• note: dietary laws and "keeping a Jewish household" were mentioned, but not a necessary commitment for conversion -- both practices were left "vague"
• if the panel found the candidate "fit for conversion," a beit din of Traditional rabbis would perform the conversion

A note on the Traditional rabbis. In Pledges of Jewish Allegiance: Conversion, Law, and Policymaking in Nineteenth- and Twentieth-Century Orthodox Responsa, the authors (neither of them Orthodox mind you) emphasize that these were not mainstream Orthodox rabbis. You see, in every version of the Denver Plan that was explained to me, it was Orthodox rabbis performing the conversion in the end. According to the authors, these Traditional rabbis were "Orthodox rabbis whose congregations had adopted more liberal practices, such as the use of microphones on Shabbat, mixed seating, and the like; no mainstream Orthodox rabbi was willing to participate" (117). 

Whoa! Shocker! Okay, I had to regroup after reading this, because my understanding of this groundbreaking plan was that these were mainstream Orthodox rabbis who had agreed to creating a situation of highest-common-denominator conversion practices. Wrong. 

The ultimate failure (which we'll get to) of this program relates to the compromises made by the Traditional rabbis and community regarding the converts' commitments to the mitzvoth. Because of the vagueness of the commitment to the mitzvoth of kashrut and what I understand as taharat ha'mishpacha (such as mikvah), this allowed the Traditional rabbis to approve the conversion. 

By 1982, the Denver Plan was falling apart. Traditional rabbis felt they'd compromised too much, and when, in March of that year the Reform movement recognized patrilineal descent, serious questions were raised as to the viability and sustainability of the program. On June 17, 1983, six years after the initial agreement, the Traditional rabbis withdrew and the Denver Plan was done. 

In its six years, the Denver Plan converted a shocking 750 people. Good. Lord. That's 125 people a year. That makes me wonder -- where are those 750 people today? Are they living Jewishly? Do they still identify as Jews? Has there been any kind of followup with them? And, perhaps most interestingly, how many of the converted to be and remained Orthodox (whatever that means)?

An article in the Intermountain Jewish News brought the largely secretive plan to light, resulting in comments from Harold Jacobs, president of Orthodoxy's American Council of Young Israel, to say, 

We have no choice bu to draw the line, clearly, as to who is a Jew and who is not, as to what limits tand basic standards of elementary Jewish identity and personal conduct we must insist upon. ... It is time that Orthodoxy put the rest of the Jewish community on notice: no longer will 'Jewish unity' be bought at the expense of Jewish identity. For Klal Yisrael today, that is too high a price.

Ouch. Comments from the Jewish Observer were even more blunt.

While compromise for the sake of unity can often make good sense, when dealing with basic principles of faith, 'compromise' is actually a sell-out. ... It is time that all Orthodox rabbis recognize that Reform and Conservative Judaism are far, far removed from Torah, and Klal Yisroel is betrayed -- not served -- when Orthodoxy enters in religious assocaition with them.

What a zinger. The Observer went so far as to warn other communities against this type of "interdenominational cooperation," urging such communities to "step back from the abyss." 

This didn't, of course, stop Bibi Netanyahu from appointing what became known as the Ne'eman Commission in 1997 to develop ideas and proposals regarding religious conversion in Israel in response to the influx of some 700,000 immigrants from Russia and other parts of the Former Soviet Union between 1987 and 1997. Yaakov Ne'eman, an observant Orthodox Jew, was appointed to the head of the commission. After some 70 sessions and 150 hours of deliberations, the committee recommended the

creation of panels of rabbis representing all three movements to prepare the candidates for conversion. The ritual conversion itself would remain within the province of the Orthodox rabbinate alone.

Sound familiar? No surprise here, but the commission's proposal was rejected by the Chief Rabbinate in 1998. 

As far as I know, there were no other attempts either before or after either of these situations to create an interdenominational cooperation for highest-common-denominator (or lowest if you prefer) conversions. The question will always be "is it good for the Jews?" for some and "is it real Judaism?" for others. Asking converts to commit to the mitzvoth before dipping in the mikvah is the crux point of conversion, and an agreement is an agreement. However, if you follow the opinion of some rabbis, what happens after the dip is all on the new Jew. If a convert makes the commitment and decides to live a Reform or Secular Jewish life, then those sins of incomplete commitment are on them -- but they're still Jews.

Note: There have been talks of doing a mass conversion of Russian immigrants in the vein of what it looks like when people take their U.S. citizen oath. I imagine the scene itself would be pretty powerful -- thousands of immigrants who have been living in the Jewish state taking an oath of Jewish citizenship and nationhood. But I'll talk about this some other time. 

Here's to You, Rabbi Goren

Here we go again!

"Israel's High Court affirms thousands of conversions are kosher" 

In case you ever wondered where this whole "let's revoke conversions" thing came from, the story is simple, and it involves the Langer Siblings.

Once upon a time, a non-Jewish Polish man named Borokovsky married a 16-year-old Jewish girl. Her parents pushed the man to convert, and so he did. After several years, the Jewish girl left the Polish man, but she never sought a get. Then, she remarried a Jewish man and they had two children. When those two children born of the second marriage were of marrying age, they filed for marriage licenses, only to be turned down on the grounds that they were mamzerim (bastard children, basically) because this nice Jewish girl didn't bother to get a get.

The case became incredibly popular, pulling in words from Moshe Dayan and Golda Meir.

Oh hello Rabbi Goren. 

What ended up happening is the genius Chief Rabbi Shlomo Goren decided that in order for these two poor children to get married, the only thing to do would be to annul the Polish man's conversion so that her marriage to him was not kosher and that her second marriage was kosher and the children would not fall into the mamzer category.

This rabbi looked and said, well, you know, we really don't know the legitimacy of the Polish man's conversion, nor do we really know that he's living a Jewish life, so, yeah, let's revoke his conversion years after the fact.

The Langer Siblings got married and lived happily ever after.

Conversion, as a result, has suffered the ridiculous and impossible fate of "revoked" conversions after the fact -- all because this one woman decided not to get a get like a normal human being.

It's also worth noting that this Rabbi Goren converted hundreds of people with certificates that said "Only Valid in Israel." Rabbi Goren believed that any conversion done in the State of Israel was sincere, no matter whether the person converting was agreeing to hold to the mitzvoth or not, because (his logic was) who would live in Israel in a Jewish state surrounded by Jews and not be sincere?! The problem was that people who left the State of Israel and went elsewhere were denied the basic rights of a Jew (one case involved a woman whose children couldn't be entered into a school in England because her conversion through Goren was only legit within the State of Israel).

Overall, Rabbi Goren -- for all of his merit that I'm sure exists -- did some horrible, horrible things for conversion and is the reason that cases like this even have to happen nowadays.

For more fun on the colorful history of conversion, I seriously recommend picking up Pledges of Jewish Allegiance. It's eye-opening, depressing, but a least lets the modern convert know who is responsible for the jack-upedness of today's bureaucratic, impersonal conversion system!

Conversion: It's Not Just for Marriage Anymore!

It's like I'm famous ... this is my Ignite:Chanukah presentation! I hope you enjoy ...

A Response: Conversion's a Racket

Okay. Let's try this again.

My last post created a huge ruckus in my community -- such is the drama of being a very public blogger in a new community. I don't blog anonymously, and I don't have any misconceptions about my Twitter feed and blog being accessible by anyone, anywhere. That's part of what I love about what I write, it's open access. So the blog post was commented on by a community member, then it made it to one rabbi, then another, then community members and so on. The offense taken, I think, regarded the tone of the blog post as well as the misunderstanding that I was calling out or bashing the Denver community in particular, which I wasn't.

I had wanted to wait to post on the topic until I felt like I was in a calm, even place where I would be eloquent (as I'm known) but also pointed and direct, saying "this is what's going on, and this is what needs to change." However, it didn't come out that way. Why? After speaking with a rabbi friend on Twitter very briefly about the problems in the community with conversion and what I consider (after all, this is my blog and it is full of my opinions) extortion, he said the following:

Well, you don't have to go through it!

That simple quote, which horrified me -- should I not care about those who do have to suffer financial loss or a lost neshama? -- paired with the constantly echoing in my mind words of Rav Tarfon

"It is not your responsibility to finish the work [of perfecting the world], but you are not free to desist from it either" (Pirkei Avot 2:16).

said one thing to me: you must speak now, it is your duty, it is your mission, it is your work. I get emails daily from people in-process, done with the process, leaving the process, and so on who have stories about acceptance, the process, and more that would make most people's skin crawl. An oft-said thing to me by born Jews is, "If I hadn't been born Jewish, I don't know if I would choose it." 

Because of the hoops you must jump through? The pressure? The issues of acceptance? The costs? The oppression? The bullying by other converts? 

My passion and fervor for this issue of extortion in conversion -- no matter what branch, no matter where you are geographically -- is my work. It's my responsibility when it comes to repairing the Jewish world. Someone has to stand up, someone has to say something, to do something. 

My biggest beef with the Denver process is the cost. Plain and simple. Why fly in a rabbi from Queens and make the candidates foot that bill? Why not use a more local rabbi? Classes are necessary for studying and conversion to Orthodox Judaism, and I'll be honest -- I'm more than happy to devote two to three hours a week to teaching and training converts in the basics of Judaism and conversion; after all, I've been there, I've done that, and I can lay things out from a perspective of the convert and what you need to know before the formal process. I also think I can give something a book-learning class can't -- personal perspective, stories, passion, fervor, dedication, devotion. The heart of Judaism, not just the facts and the "you must be able to say and do this when you convert." But I'm not a rabbi. Does that change things? Can an Orthodox convert to Judaism properly train converts? I think so, yes. But when one system has a monopoly on the process, saying "you must do x, y, z, and you must do it with this person," that does not provide options, it provides a monopoly. 

Because I know, at the very depths of my soul, what Orthodox converts go through before, during, and after their conversions, I know that this is my place. I counsel, I help, I calm the fears of those who have no one else to turn to, and for that, I feel like HaShem has granted me great patience, understanding, and love. 

Converts are coming home. They're bringing their neshamot home, finally. They should be overwhelmed by the weight of the mitzvot, not the costs to let their neshamot onto the front stoop of Judaism. 

It's Time for Your Opinion: Conversion for Marriage.

A friend is letting me post this here, so be kind and focused with your responses. I'll be writing my own, but I want to hear what you folks have to say first!

I live in a community with a lot of converts, which is nice in that there are a lot of people who I share a common experience with and who I can make feel more welcome and comfortable by saying "hey I did that too!" but it's also not-so-nice because of some of the sentiments in the community--being "one of the rabbi's converts," etc.

Recently some of my friends, who are single, have been complaining about the number of people in our community who got engaged/married right after their conversions were finalized. (The rabbi openly states he will convert for marriage, provided the prospective convert prove they would keep halakha even if the relationship ended.) A male friend says that he, as an ffb, feels cheated for doing what he was raised to do--only date Jewish girls--because people in the community date "out" and their girlfriends convert. A female friend, also born Jewish, feels like her odds to get a Jewish man are lower if there's a culture wherein it's essentially OK to date non-Jews who will convert.

I say this not to call out these converts--it's not my business and I can't read their hearts and minds--but because I'm frustrated with hearing my good friends saying "there's a problem with converts in this shul, no offense." While I think they have valid reasons for at least feeling upset (whether or not I agree with them), the "no offense" part hits me the hardest. Has anyone had similar experiences, either with this issue in particular, or simply with others criticizing others' conversions to you?

A Response: Dating During Conversion

I've been pondering a response to Kochava's Why You Shouldn't Date During Conversion blog post, and I think I'm finally in the right mood to write it. In short, I almost completely disagree with just about everything she wrote (but I do adore her, so it's no personal :D).

The long-dating couple before my first beth din meeting in NYC in November 2009.

As you all know, I converted Reform in 2006, many moons before meeting my now husband Tuvia. I started attending an Orthodox shul in Chicago in 2008, many months before meeting Tuvia. I moved to Connecticut, and almost instantly I met Tuvia, who at that time was in a sort of religious oasis -- he'd grown up in a religious community, gone to a Conservative day school for 15 years, been incredibly active in Hillel during college, and after college even attempted to find a Conservative synagogue, but with no luck. When I met him, he was in what I like to think of as an "either way" kind of space. But in one of our first conversations, I told him plain and simple: I'm a Reform convert going Orthodox, and if you're not going in that direction, then let's not waste each other's time. Tuvia was willing to go on the journey with me, and that journey had a lot of challenges, but none that I regret.

I knew about the complications of dating while in-process, but after speaking with a lot of people and doing my own research and soul searching, my conclusion was that you're damned if you do, damned if you don't. I frequently tell those in-process that this is how it works:

If you're dating a Jew while in-process, the community and rabbis will think you're converting for marriage. Some will be okay with that, some won't. If you're not dating anyone while in-process, the rabbis will be highly concerned over how on earth you'll ever land a husband, being a convert and all, and post-conversion will insist on setting you up with other converts (which is fine, but it pigeonholes converts, much like the Jews of Color community, which often gets set up with other Jews of color -- again, fine, but pigeonholed). Catch 22!

Tuvia and I started studying with a rabbi for my Orthodox conversion in January 2009. It's funny how it was all a review for me, but it was largely new to Tuvia, who really enjoyed learning. I struggled for many months with whether Tuvia was doing Orthodoxy for me or for himself, and I didn't want there to be a developed resentment in our relationship where I became the religious zealot of a convert and he became the unwilling participant in a love conquers all situation. (This falls under what Kochava wrote as "if your new partner isn't orthodox but you're in the orthodox conversion process.") We had a lot of discussions about it, and Tuvia assured me that he was doing it because he wanted to -- not for me. And things moved forward. (Although, let's be honest, this still haunts me, and Tuvia knows it.)

Perhaps we were blessed, but our community had zero problems and didn't react negatively at all to our situation. In fact, many people in the community thought that Tuvia was the one going through the conversion process -- not me. The decision to start observing shomer negiah was largely mine, but Tuvia understood the importance and was more than willing to go along with the observance. Was it easy? No, but for us, it was a powerful mitzvah to take on in our journey together. Many in the community were actually impressed/shocked/flabbergasted that a young modern Orthodox couple would even observe shomer negiah, believe it or not. But we held to it, because it was powerful spiritually for us (well, at least me).

We never faced chastisement, and we were upfront and honest with the beth din about everything.

The only major problem that ever came up, in the entire time of our dating and studying and going from community to community and Israel and to the two beth din meetings I had leading up to my Orthodox conversion on January 1, 2010 was the following question, posed by my beth din during the first meeting.

If you knew you were going to convert Orthodox, and you'd decided to do so before moving to Connecticut, why on earth would you join JDate (that big, ugly, non-Orthodox dating service) with the intent of meeting someone? 

Talk about a great question. Mad props to my converting rabbis. This is a great question, and the funny thing is, I really don't have a good reason. I hadn't been on JDate for probably a good two years, back when I was living in Washington D.C. from 2006-2007. But there was this funny feeling I had, especially after my good friend Reuven visited the Lubavitcher rebbe's ohel and davened (prayed) for me to make a shidduch (match) with a nice fellow. I moved to Connecticut mid-August 2008, and I joined JDate almost instantly when I arrived. Within a few days, Tuvia had contacted me, and the rest is history. It just felt right, oddly enough.

When I explained this to the rabbis, they sort of cocked their heads sideways at me. But they understood. If anything, they understood that I'd helped bring one Jew -- Tuvia -- closer to mitzvot and observance through my own actions and passion for Judaism. I think that this, above all else, allowed my beth din to see that I wasn't doing this for marriage, and that if anything, I was bringing a little light into the world through Tuvia. They asked Tuvia, many times, what his background was and how he'd arrived at Orthodoxy, because they also wanted to know that he was truly into Orthodoxy and not just along for the ride with me. But neither of us had a problem with this. (This also falls under what Kochava wrote as "if your new partner isn't orthodox but you're in the orthodox conversion process.")

All this being said, I understand where Kochava is coming from. It doesn't always work out so swimmingly. Plenty of people drop out of the process, plenty of people intermarry when they get fed up with the process, and yes, it happens. But, and I believe this firmly, if you meet someone while you're in-process, and you fall in love, and you know that this person is your one, then the passion that existed before you met that person will shine through, and your beth din will be beyond cognizant of this. It's all about planting your feet firmly and saying, "I am a Jew, I am meant to be a Jew" and your story will tell itself.

Does this work for everyone? No, but I'm not a believer in sacrificing your happiness for an assumed opinion of the institution of Orthodox conversion. Believe it or not, conversion still works on a case-by-case basis (except maybe in California, but in all things, exceptions exist ... it is Judaism after all). To write off your happiness for fear of chastisement by a rabbi or the community just means you're letting yourself be bullied. Be happy, be confident. It can be worth it.

Conquering the Conversion Conversation

You know me -- I really try to ignore all of the "who is a Jew" convert business because it saturates the news in Israel and the U.S. at all hours of every day every few weeks or months. Something happens, there's an outcry, and then it settles down, we go about our business, and then something else happens. I don't like to dwell on the negativity that swirls around conversion in the U.S. versus Israel, but lately it seems to really be taking on a life of its own.

There's the outcry that it's easier to have a "liberal" (i.e., Conservative or Reform) conversion and make aliyah than for the Orthodox convert who went through the process outside Israel. Personally, this seems pretty ridiculous, and it will drive converts to go Conservative and live a happily Conservadoxish life. It defeats the purpose of trying to get converts to go on that happy Orthodox path of truth and light (sarcasm, folks).

Then there is the story about the Modern Orthodox Canadian convert who has been denied immigration, even though he had an Orthodox conversion and is married to an Israeli Jew! The policy has always been that if you're a convert and married to a halachic Jew, it's like a golden ticket for aliyah. So what gives? Oh, right, he converted with rabbis who are on the International Rabbinical Fellowship (read: heretical rabbis who want to overthrow the Rabbinical Council of America's domination of the Orthodox conversion process in the United States). I'll admit that I am a little troubled by the fact that this individual had an Orthodox conversion and continued to work on the Sabbath and not fully observe, which is a requirement of the post-conversion life, but in reality, they converted him, he's Jewish, that's that (maybe this bothers the power that be in Israel, too?) What he chooses to do is up to him (this, of course, is a simplification -- post-conversion you're watched like a hawk).

On that note, this little morsel from the tail-end of the story surprised me, I'll admit, but it makes me feel pretty solid with my conversion.

For immigrants from North America, the Chief Rabbinate is only recognizing conversions carried out by the Rabbinical Council of America, a primarily ultra-Orthodox group.

I guess that means I'm ultra-Orthodox? Oy to the vey.

For all intents and purposes, there is a list that is regularly updated list that includes all of the batei din accepted by Israel for the sake of conversion. Of course, this is for Orthodox conversion, but the point of all of this hullabaloo is that Reform and Conservative conversions have the potential to be less problematic when it comes to moving to Israel -- what happens when you're there is a different story. But wouldn't this encourage people to have a Reform conversion in the U.S. or anywhere else, make aliyah, and only then have an Orthodox conversion? In Israel itself? Is that good enough?

What's my point? My point is that this is all the usual, run-of-the-mill junk that is out there regarding whose conversion is good enough, whose is the best, whose is accepted, and who should go back and restart the game of geirus. It's hard, and it's tough, and it's mind-bogglingly frustrating, but it's the reality of the situation right now. As Harold Kushner surely would say, it's how we respond to it that makes a difference. We cannot control the powers that be, nor can we control who says whether our conversions are good enough. What we can control, however, is how we react to the situation -- with grace and dignity and patience or with anger and disengagement and giving up. I encourage everyone to choose the former. To get angry only fuels the fire of those who surely would say that only a born-Jew is good enough to be a Jew.

Conversion in Israel, We're at it Again.

I really want to be up in arms about this, I really do. I want to be up in arms because I have a lot of good friends who didn't go through an Orthodox, RCA, Israel-approved conversion like I did. I want to be up in arms because even my conversion could go kablooey if one of my beth din rabbis decided to do something drastically un-rabbi like.

But I just can't. I can't be upset about what's going on in the Knesset because I get what the bill is trying to do. For those of you who don't know what I'm blabbering about, I'm blabbering about the big fat Conversion Bill that's floating through the Knesset as we speak.

The crux of the bill is actually to ease the process for potential converts by allowing local batei din convert folks instead of using a big centralized system. The tag-on to that has folks up in arms "expands the Orthodox-dominated Chief Rabbinate’s jurisdiction by bringing conversions, until now the province of special conversion courts, under the explicit authority of the Chief Rabbinate."

The former has the ultra-Orthodox in Israel peeved because it would make the process "more lenient" (right ... ) and the non-ultra Orthodox in the rest of the world are peeved because the latter would bring non-Orthodox conversions up for consideration as non-halakic/legitimate.

You can't please anyone, right? Listen, I get what the guy who proposed the bill is trying to do. He's trying to help converts, but in the process, there are things tagged on that have to be used to please all sides of the battle (if you can call it that). It's just like bills in America. We want something, but we don't like all the add-ons that make us wonder whether the actual bill is worth it.

I guess that's what I have to suggest: Is making the conversion process in Israel less-centralized worth all of the stuff that's going to come along with it? Is allowing hundreds of Russian olim the ability to finally say "we're Jewish" worth putting all Reform, Conservative, and other non-Orthodox conversions on the line? If you ask a Russian olah, they would say yes. If you ask a Reform convert from Middle of Nowhere, U.S.A., they'd say no. So who gets the weight here?

I really want to be upset about this, but I can't. My big thing is to not let this stuff bother me. It ruins the lives of people who dwell on it, it puts chips on the shoulders of converts and potentials everywhere, it makes people live their lives as if they're under a microscope rather than living their lives as Jews. And I can't buy what they're selling. I have to approach it from a positive angle, and perhaps I'm lucky for my "status" as a convert. I really feel for my friends who are drowning in this debacle, the what ifs and the what will I do?

My advice: Only HaShem knows who is a Jew, so continue to live your life as you do as a Jew, and don't let anyone dictate who you are. The conversion question and the "Who is a Jew?" question is a deep, dark, messy one that I'm often asked about. People want to know whether I consider my Conservative-converted friends Jewish or my patrilineal friends Jewish, and all I can say is: Is it my place to say? Everyone's on their own journey. I know that going the Orthodox, RCA, Israel-approved route was the best for me at the crossroads of my life. Our journeys move at different paces and I'm happy to support converts as they move through their Judaism, whether they end up Reform and end up Orthodox or start Conservative and end up Conservative. It takes a huge neshama to take that step, in whatever form you take it.

So live as you live, don't let this bill ruin your hope and your confidence in who you are.

Also: Remember, halakicly you can't "revoke" a conversion. You can be excommunicated, you can be shunned, you can be treated like trash, but once you're converted, you're Jewish. If some rabbi out there wants to correct me and point me to where the law says you can revoke a conversion, I'd be happy to take up that conversation. The way that conversions are done (i.e., the process, the requirements, the tests to make sure you know how to tear a bag on Shabbos, etc.) is a very really new concept (save circumcision and mikvah, of course). Look at Ruth, Yitro, Na'aman, and Rahab -- the Rabbis took their simple declarations about HaShem being the only G-d out there as enough to deem them awesome, rocking, righteous converts. The way we do things now would probably make the Rabbis roll over in their graves.

New Google Group: Conversion Conversation

Just a quick note.

If you want to join the new group, you can click here and fill out the appropriate information! Here's to a lively conversation.

Swallowed Up in the Mikvah

I just stepped out of the bathtub, after watching steam rise from my legs and feet, the air much colder than the water and the now-temperature of my body. I sat in the tub, candles oozing light, music crooning, and I tried to imagine myself back at the mikvah, standing in that warm pool of water, after taking the literal steps into a Torah-binding agreement with HaShem. I couldn’t. The experience, a true one-time experience, is best left to the memory in its warm and welcoming embrace of the wings of the shechinah. But I want to do my best to share some of it with you. It’s just who I am to tell a story.

The entire thing happened suddenly, in a swirl of phone calls, organizing, and haste. I’d anticipated at least the weekend to consider names, to call friends to be there, to let everyone know. And then, in a quick whish of winter wind, the plans were made and I was set to be at the mikvah on Friday, not today as originally planned (which, by the way, was quite surprising and sudden as it was). To describe it as a whirlwind experience would be understating the actual whirlwindedness of those 25 hours.

You see, I met with my beth din, for the second time, at 10 a.m. on Thursday. By the next day, at 11 a.m., I was sitting on a couch in the very nice waiting room of a very nice mikvah on the Upper West Side. I didn’t sleep Wednesday night, and I surely didn’t sleep Thursday night. I was tossing around names, scenarios of what we’d do if the weather got bad as it had been Thursday morning (every route into NYC was closed for a time, and by the grace of G-d all the rabbis made it in). But everything, miraculously, went like clockwork.

On Friday, I arrived at the mikvah, I spoke with the mikvah lady, I prepared, I went into the mikvah, I accepted a variety of covenantal and binding sentiments and laws upon myself, I dipped, I said a b’racha, I dipped again, I said another b’racha, and I dipped again. I ascended those literal stairs, I entered my dressing room, and I cried. I cried with a smile that I cannot even put into words. I can feel the feeling right now, the confusing smiling, laughing, crying, crying more, and smiling feeling. I stared at myself, drenched in mikvah waters, in the mirror and I could see the change. I stand firmly by the idea that my entire life I have carried within me the Jewish neshama that has shined so brightly these past six or seven years. But standing there, looking into that mirror and later listening to the rabbi bestow upon me my name as a Jewess, I felt different. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me back up.

In the mikvah (if you want more details about the procedure, feel free to email me, but this is just for those going through the process who might want to know what to expect), the water was warm, at a temperature that I can’t even describe. “Warm” doesn’t do it justice. Similarly, it didn’t really feel like water. It grazed my skin like a thick liquid, holding me firmly in place, pressing the heat against my chest, like I was being cradled tightly with the kind of pressure that is welcoming. I’m not a very touchy-feely kind of person. I shy away from hugs, and as a child my father couldn’t cradle me, he had to cross his legs and place me there in order for me to stop crying. But the warmth and pressure of the mikvah waters were the most comforting I’d ever felt – those waters, they cannot be replicated. I could see the rabbis reflection in the water beside me, and as he spoke I answered confidently with tears in my eyes “I Accept” with every statement he issued. And as each statement came, I shook more and more. Like tons of little shivers up and down my arms, I was shaking, almost shivering in the warm water. I was anxious, nervous, excited, and my body was processing the emotion in any way it could.

At last, I was told to dip. I grabbed my breath, and dropped into the water, floating freely, fingers apart, toes apart, my body a mess of limbs in the warmth. Through the echo of the water I heard a muffled “KOSHER!” being yelled by the rabbis as they departed the room. And the funny thing? I couldn’t find my footing afterward, I floated, my short little limbs unable to find the ground. After all, the water reached up just at my shoulders, and that was with me on my tip-toes. I was swallowed up by the water, and it was beautiful. At last I found the floor, and the mikvah lady assured me I just need to be down for a second. I guess for her, it’s nothing new. For me? I could have floated freely without air, mindlessly twisting and turning, wrestling with the shechinah in that water for eternity. I dipped two more times, after saying the b’rachot clearly, and heard the mikvah lady shout “KOSHER!” (I have to tell you, this was one of my favorite things – hearing that KOSHER! being yelled really loudly; it was empowering and affirming!)

I came out after having dressed, and cried, and laughed, and was greeted by mazel tovs from friends and the rabbis. The rabbi read a document aloud for everyone to hear, proclaiming me Chaviva Elianah bat Avraham v’Sarah, and I cried again. Chaviva is the name I chose at my Reform conversion in April 2006, it holding the same meaning as my given name, Amanda: “beloved.” Elianah I chose because I wanted something that included and named HaShem. I had very, very little time to officially decide, and I chose Elianah, meaning “G-d has answered,” because I felt as though my neshama was officially, finally, being recognized as having been at Sinai as my deep visions and memories have shown me. Thus, Chaviva Elianah bat Avraham v’Sarah was born on the 15th of Tevet 5770.

And then? Well, we’re back to where I left off.

My first thought, after everything, was this: No one, NO ONE, can deny me anything as a Jew anymore. Period. No one. I immediately thought back to my having applied to Aish HaTorah’s birthright program and being turned down, told harshly and degradingly that I wasn’t a Jew, and issued materials on conversion programs. I thought to myself, “Now, now they can’t do that to me. NO one can treat me like that!” Everyone is quick to assure me that they’ve always thought of me as a member of the tribe, and I’ve always thought of me as a member of the tribe, too. But this one thing makes it different: No one has to feel it anymore, because it’s so. It’s halakicly so! It’s so empowering, I can’t stress this enough.

After the mikvah, an outing for bagels, and wishing farewell to friends heading off on a cruise (oh, and seeing Alec Baldwin!), we headed out to prepare for Shabbos. After a flurry of calls to family and friends, and the realization that my voice was going – fast – I stopped, let my arms fall to my side, and told Tuvia that I was exhausted. I’d been running on adrenaline the past two days, not to mention the past two years, and I was ready to stop. My neshama looked at me and said, Chaviva Elianah, it’s done, it’s really done, and we need to rest now. And so I slept all of Shabbos, save for mealtime (of course). I really can’t put into words that feeling, that exhaustion that I felt (and still feel a little bit) after such an arduous journey.

And that, I suppose, is the rest of the story. I feel like I’m leaving so much out, but the memory, well, it’s so much my own. I want there to be some mystery, some mystique, some feeling that is just between me and that mikvah and HaShem.

As an aside: I’ve received emails, calls, Twitter replies, Facebook messages and comments, and so much more, from dozens and dozens of friends and strangers alike, wishing me mazel tov on my conversion. Save for one individual, the response has been nothing but welcoming and positive. This weekend, there are meals in honor of my simcha. Something else I fail to put into words is how I personally am reacting to everything, that being the mazels and the welcoming and the kind words. It is, in a word, overwhelming. Don’t get me wrong, it’s overwhelming in the most positive way, but I’m the kind of person who shies away from praise, I always have been. To put it simply, I honestly don’t know how to take a compliment. So, over the past few days, I’ve been overwhelmed by the kind things people have said to me, and I almost feel as though I am not serving people right in my responses. I say thank you, I say thank you again, I feel awkward, and I say thank you again.

Am I alone in this? This is such a big thing, and I know that I’ll experience this again when I get engaged (if?) and married and have kids and all of the other major simchas. Will I ever learn how to be properly responsive? I feel as though others think I’m being ungrateful, but the volume is hard to respond to. I love my friends, my blog friends, my Twitter friends, my Facebook friends. I think I am the most blessed and lucky person in the world right now. I’m quite good at writing, especially when it comes to experiences and emotions, but this is just something for which I can’t figure out how not to be awkward. Sigh. Just know, I love you guys. You and this blog and everything that surrounds my efforts to really light a fire under every neshama out there, those are the things that keep me going, that keep my hopes high and my fingers tapping.

Chavi's Got News!

You read that right, folks. I've got news. Big news. Huge news! I was going to post a brief video blog about it, but my voice sounds horrible, and the upload was taking far too long. So I'm going to have to give you a teaser here and hope you all come back when I actually write the full post in the coming week.

Is the anticipation killing you? Is it? I guess you could have just looked below for the news, right. But if you're still reading, come on, move along already!

On 15 Tevet 5770 (that's January 1, 2010), at a little after 11 a.m. on the Upper West Side in New York, I descended the steps of a mikvah -- a ritual pool/bath -- and accepted upon myself the yoke of Judaism and being a Jewish woman. I ascended from the pool a new person, a fresh and invigorated neshama, and met friends who were waiting for me outside. I was named, Chaviva Elianah (חביבה אליענה), said my first b'racha as a halakic Jewess and my first shehechiyanu as a Jewess. And then?

Then I went out for a delicious bagel lunch at Bagels & Co. with @susqhb, @ravtex, and @schnit. I was then lucky enough to be on a streetcorner with Alec Baldwin and some other actor whose name I can't figure out. Then Shabbos came, and I spent my first Shabbos as a card-carrying member of the club. And damn did it feel good.

I'll write more later, a lot more later. So please stay tuned. It'll include why I chose a second name, what it felt like in the mikvah, what it felt like after, and everything in between -- including the candy that sticks to your teeth. Oh, and why this was completely sudden, unexpected, and AWESOME.

Thanks for the support and kind words and encouragement over this journey. It still isn't over, of course. We're all under construction, especially this one right here.

So you want to convert, eh?

In an attempt to answer some reader questions regarding conversion, I will simply type up a (hopefully) brief little post here, so as to not go through great lengths to edit my video blog since time is of the essence these days.

"Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God" (Ruth 1:16)

You'll note that Ruth didn't bother asking Naomi where to find a good shul or rabbi, nor did she pop in with any questions about the difficulties of finding a congregation out in the middle of nowhere, right? So where to begin? 

When I decided to start going to synagogue, I had already made the decision to convert. I knew all the details of the conversion process and had read most of the popularized conversion books (after all, I'd been studying on my own for about a year). So really, I was jumping way ahead of myself and needed to find a shul. In my town there were two synagogues -- one Reform, the other Conservative. About an hour away there was a much larger city with various congregations ranging from Chabad to Reform. At the time, though, I hadn't considered going to the larger city because, well, I was carless and in college and it just wasn't something that struck me. Also at that time I was comfortably settled in the Reform movement with my hashkafah (sort of like Jewish philosophy/beliefs). A (Jewish) friend of a friend was also interested in checking out a local shul to see what the buzz was (considering the community was so small), so we agreed to go one Friday night. She picked me up, we were off, and we were welcomed heartily by the community. We started going regularly, and after awhile we decided to check out the Conservative shul to see whether we were leaning that way. Unfortunately, that congregation didn't welcome us as heartily, as the base was a lot older and didn't seem interested in talking to, let alone welcoming, us.

So, at the time -- as I said -- my hashkafah was good with the Reform movement and so I continued to go there. The rabbi at that point was a woman who, to be honest, didn't seem so interested in getting started with a conversion candidate (she was sort of on the outs, as her family had moved to a city about three hours away and she was trying to get out, too), but we met at a coffee shop, she gave me a booklist to check out and we called it a day. Shortly after she left a new rabbi was hired and he was incredibly enthusiastic about the congregation and my conversion -- I would be his first convert! He started up an Intro to Judaism course (which was mostly a refresher for me at that point), and very quickly we set a date for my conversion because, after talking to me and hearing about my studies and journey, he seemed confident I was prepared. But most importantly, it was I who was prepared. In April 2006, then, I met with the beth din, went to the mikvah, had my naming and conversion ceremony, and the rest is history. This all, of course, was through the Reform movement.

Now, I wasn't turned away three times or any of that. It's more likely that in the Orthodox movement this will happen, and it's also more likely that you'll really need to search for a rabbi who fits into your stream of thought and who welcomes you and your conversion in his community. As I consider reconverting through the Orthodox movement, I'll admit, there is a lot more thought that will go into the process -- who my rabbi is, how long I'll need to prepare, what congregation/community to attach myself to, etc. When I started dabbling in the path to conversion in ... oy ... was it 2003? (though formally much later) ... I didn't really do much searching because I was pretty comfortable in where I was, but it was very situationally comfortable.

What do I mean? Well, I was in college (undergraduate) and there was not a possibility for me to move (at least, at that time, it hadn't even crossed my mind). Had I wanted to convert Orthodox (though, to be honest, in the community I was in I had a LOT of misconceptions about Orthodox Jews and the Orthodox community in general), I would have been put in an interesting position. I would have had to make my way to the closest city with an Orthodox community, but even then, it would have been difficult to make the trips. And once again -- it all depends on your hashkafah. For some people who do want to convert Orthodox, though, it just isn't feasible to get to a community where you can attend services regularly, find kosher foods, not to mention visit the mikvah and take part in other community activities. So what an Orthodox rabbi will tell you is -- you must move to a community. It's a lifestyle, it's a community, it's not just a religious doctrine. But for people with families or who are committed to a location, this just isn't possible. So then they will tell you that we must bend to the Torah -- the Torah will not bend to us. And in a way, they are right. So what do you do?

Well, my advice is this: If you live in the sticks or in a community where there isn't a shul, find the nearest one, no matter the denomination, and begin to learn. Explain to the rabbi that you are interested in converting, though you're not sure whether the shul's hashkafah lines up with your's, but that you want to begin or explore your options. Attend Intro to Judaism and Hebrew classes (or find a tutor or use online resources). Learn, learn, learn and learn some more, and when you feel yourself coming to a place where you are confident in converting, talk to your rabbi. Explain to them where you are at, which movement you feel most comfortable halakicly in, ask the rabbi if they can connect you with other rabbis in other movements. When you travel, go to different shuls -- Orthodox, Conservative, Reconstructionist, Reform. You have to have that exposure in order to make an informed decision about a movement as a whole. But your Jewish soul will lead you in the appropriate direction, and no matter how you feel spiritually or where you connect denominationally, you can observe how ever much or little that you want in your personal life. Don't forget, though, that community is important! And also, use the internet. This big, bad wide interweb is your KEY to really discovering where you fit Jewishly -- but don't trust just one website or one source, because you truly never know what you'll get. Ask questions, ask a LOT of questions, and do your homework.

Remember: Judaism is sort of a package deal -- communally, personally, religiously, and how you live -- you can't learn, study, and convert in a vacuum. It's as simple as "where there is a will, there is a way." And your Jewish soul will not let you sleep until it is sated!

So check out this website: My Jewish Learning on Choosing a Synagogue. I really, really wish I had had this all those years ago. It offers some great advice, especially about the differences simply between synagogues within the same movement. For example, I prefer a shul without a chazzan, or cantor, because I find that the congregants do an amazing job with a melody (I think this sentiment comes from attending a modern Orthodox shul for those many months!).  Likewise, you can tell a lot about a synagogue from what kind of programs it has -- women's groups, social action, outreach, etc. But perhaps most importantly is making sure that YOU and the RABBI fit. You want to convert through someone you trust, someone who takes you as seriously as you take them, and who can answer your questions and inquiries without any troubles. Plus, it is important to develop a good, working relationship with a rabbi at any rate because questions will always come up -- about Yom Kippur or kashrut or something else -- and you will need someone authoritative and consistent (we call this person a rav) in your life to help you answer such queries!

But, that's my reader's digest bit on finding a synagogue/rabbi and how to do so if you're in a community that maybe lacks such things. Now, I have a lot of connections and know a lot of people, not to mention I am presently inventorying all of the shuls in the U.S. for a Jewish databank, so if you need some information or want to be introduced to a rabbi, let me know and I'll do what I can to help you out. I might not know everyone, but an intermediary can help get the ball rolling!

I might have created more questions than answers, so let me know what you you have to say. I attempted to be brief, but I want to reiterate that the Jewish conversion process is not meant to be quick -- it is meant to allow the convert time to evaluate and reevaluate their Jewish soul, to consider where they fit and when they are truly, truly ready to take on the plight of the Jewish people. There is no need to rush -- some people spend years, dozens of years at times, on the path, waiting to hit that point or find the right rabbi or congregation. Don't rush it just because you want to get there -- it just isn't worth skirting the major issues for a quickie conversion. Plus, a good rabbi won't let you get by like that either :)

If you click here, I have compiled a list of websites with information that might be useful to you -- just now, actually, so this list will continue to grow in coming days/weeks. Enjoy and Shalom!