| Ex Post Facto: The Etiquette of Welcoming Converts | |
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by Tamar Fox, May 22, 2007
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So you wanna be a Jew? The Talmud says:
Our Rabbis taught: One who comes to convert at this time, they say to him: 'Why did you come to convert? Do you know that Israel at this time is afflicted, oppressed, downtrodden, and rejected, and that tribulations are visited upon them?' If he says, 'I know, but I am unworthy,' they accept him immediately…" (Yebamot 47a).
Apparently, if you want to be a member of the Tribe you gotta want it bad, and you have to prove it, too. But if you prove it, you’re in, right? Um, not so much. The next page of the Talmud contains a fairly unsavory comment, “Rav Helbo said: Proselytes are as hard for Israel [to endure] as scabs'" (Yebamot 47b). Ouch.
Ruth Converted: And we're sweet on her...
So what’s the deal? How are those of us born Jewish supposed to react to converts (or Jews-by-choice, as they’re often called today)?
Well first of all, we have to be nice to them. Rav Helbo or no Rav Helbo, the commandment to welcome the ger, the stranger, is all over the Torah. Take, for instance, Deut 10:19 which says “And you are to love those who are aliens, for you yourselves were aliens in Egypt.”
Beyond just a general precept on being a mensch, I’ve heard a number of rabbis speak about precisely what one can and can’t say to a convert. It’s generally accepted that referring to their conversion or to their life pre-Judaism is verboten, because it may cause them shame, or cause them to lose credibility in the community. Basically you don’t want to say anything that will cause the person to be seen as a non-genuine Jew.
To some of this that may seem like a fairly obvious ruling. The law against embarrassing people clearly stands here as it would anywhere else (although I struggle with the concept of Jews-by-choice being ashamed of their past to begin with). But the sad truth is that there is plenty of evidence of the Jewish community being less than welcoming to converts. In the book The Intermarriage Handbook: A Guide for Jews and Christians by Judy Petsonk and Jim Remsen, Petsonk and Remsen write about dealing with negative Jewish attitudes about converts:
Try to let someone's first insensitive comment or glance roll off your back. You are an emissary for all converts and need to keep your image in mind. At first, if confronted, be abstrusely polite or disarmingly direct: "Yes, I was born Jewish, but to Episcopalian parents." "Yes, I'm a convert. Have you known others of us?" "I converted and I'm trying to settle into it. Have any pointers?"
If the person is well meaning, it should be easy to fall into pleasant conversation. But if she is scornful, you can turn on a bit more tartness. Tell her there are Irish Jews, Chinese Jews, blond Jews, black Jews--and there always have been. Tell her that Judaism honors you as a righteous convert.
As this is happening, remind yourself of the many people who have welcomed you into the religion. Try to redraw your friendship circle for awhile so that it brings you into contact with the welcomers and not the rejecters. Gail has felt suspicious glances from some parts of the community, but she has tried not to let them penetrate. "To some people I will never be Jewish," she says. "That's the way they feel. But that doesn't mean that I can't consider myself Jewish, just because one Jew in the whole world doesn't feel that I am Jewish."
I wish I could write off Gail’s experiences as the exception, and not the rule, but I recently read Girl Meets God by Lauren Winner, a memoir about a woman from an intermarried family who converted to Orthodox Judaism in college and then became Anglican in grad school. I expected to hate the book based on its premise, but Winner is an unbelievably good writer, and she makes us face some hard truths about the Jewish community. She writes:
So anyway, when I tell the story of leaving Judaism, I can’t begin with the small space for women.
The story begins instead with a lacrosse-playing, Prada-clad college classmate of mine named Sarah. Sarah was a biology major from New Jersey. She had long curly black hair and a wonderful toothy grin. We were at a party one night, a party where I met a beautiful older man, a man who had moved from New York to Israel as a teenager and served in the army and was just returning, and was full of desperate, drunken, profound stories about violence and rape and suffering. I was standing with the men, over by the window, and Sarah leaned over to a friend and, just loud enough, said that I had only converted because I wanted to marry a Jew.
There were lots of Sarahs, lots of pretty Orthodox girls who snubbed me, the convert, never mine all the rules the rabbis piled up forbidding Jews to remind converts of their background. Those small snide remarks, which I should have been able to overlook, those, I think, are where this story begins.
Or possibly it begins with Hank Hirschfield. This was just weeks after the mikvah. He was the older brother of a friend of mine, and met twice, three times, at a bar near Columbia called The Abbey, and he introduced me to his favorite beer, a sweet-tasting red brewed by Belgian Trappist monks. We talked, at that bar, about Torah and God and Tolstoy and the Rolling Stones, and then one night he turned up at my dorm and said really h couldn’t do this, date me he meant, “Because of your conversion,” he said. “Because, you see, I want my parents to dance with my in-laws at my wedding, I want my bride’s family and my family to have giant holiday celebrations together, giant shared Passover feasts and Purim chagigahs. So I could never marry a convert.” I wept that night, cried myself to sleep for the first time ever, and when I woke up, I found that Beth had filled my wall with homemade, hand lettered signs: Lauren is a Jewess, they said, Lauren the Jew, to remind me that I was really Jewish, pay no attention to what Hank Hirschfield said, or how he acted, or how I felt.
It takes a certain kind of callousness not to find this heartbreaking. And yet I’ve heard my friends echo Hank Hirschfield’s feelings. For some reason many of us want a REAL Jew to join us under the chuppah.
I was talking about this with a friend, a Jew-by-choice, and she had a fascinating insight. She said she thinks about her non-Jewish life as an ex-boyfriend. This ex wasn’t an awful guy, they had lots of great times together, and they came from the same background and everything, but in the end the attraction just wasn’t there, and they broke up. And yes she still thinks about him, and she’s not ashamed of him, but she has a new beau now, and she’d rather not talk about the ex in front of the new beau because it seems rude.
That, to me, was the perfect guideline for situations where I’m unsure what I can and cannot say without offending someone. Think about their non-Jewish life as an ex. While it’s not inappropriate to remind one of something that happened while they were with the ex, reminding them that they were with the wrong guy (or girl) is uncouth. It’s a good rule of thumb for conversations with Jews-by-choice.
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Tamar Fox has an MFA from Vanderbilt University in Nashville, but she still doesn't like sweet tea. Born and raised in Chicago, she's also lived in Iowa City, Dublin, Oxford, and Jerusalem. When she's not rocking out at honky tonks she teaches More... |
lukeford
Cry Me A River
As a convert to Judaism, I've experienced snide remarks about converts maybe once or twice or maybe never. I don't remember. I don't treasure these things and cry myself to sleep over them.
Any group worth joining has initiations and this hazing is not just official (with the rabbis) but with the born Jew whose feelings are every bit as legitimate as the convert's. Jews have a long proud history and to think that anyone who converts can immediately appropriate this and walk around proclaiming his Jewishness is disconcerting.
A convert has to earn his stripes. If he's not strong enough to deal with some skepticism and rudeness, then he's a wimp and the Jews don't need him.
Cry me a river over Lauren Winner. Every rude skeptical remark by Jews about her conversion to Judaism was amply justified by her subsequent conversion to Christianity.
There's nothing wrong with born-Jews wanting to marry another born-Jew just as there's nothing wrong with someone who values words wanting to marry a reader of books.
The dirty truth is that most converts are unstable Jews. If you count converts through all streams of Judaism, I bet that more than 90% don't become observant Jews and that at least half don't go on to do many things Jewish. Such converts are no benefit to the Jewish people.
lukeford
Mommy
If a convert can't handle some hazing, how's he going to handle anti-Semitism? By running back to his mommy?
Reb Phil Stien
Reason and Torah Don't Mix Well
I've always thought you had to have a screw loose somewhere to accept all the nonsensical teachings that orthodox Judaism requires of the convert. Does anyone really believe that God hates it when Jews carry keys in their pockets on the sabbath while walking through their neighborhoods, except when those neighborhoods are circumscribed by a thin wire (i.e. an eruv)? Or that there exists a God who really cares that Jews not wear garments containing mixtures of linen and wool? Anyone who converts to such a system of silly beliefs is apt to be daft to begin with, which makes the probability of an unhappy outcome that much greater.
Tamar Fox
Brotha, Please
Reason and Torah mix fine, Phil. If you don't want to be Orthodox, that's fine, but that has nothing to do with this discussion. FYI, Orthodoxy divides the commandments into things that make sense to us (don't kill, keep shabbat etc) and things that don't (shaatnez, kashrut etc). And yes, plenty of observant Jews do believe that God hates it when "Jews carry keys in their pockets on the sabbath while walking through their neighborhoods, except when those neighborhoods are circumscribed by a thin wire." People who take on Orthodoxy are often the most fervent believers.
As for luke: Dude, hazing is not a Jewish thing. The commandment in the Torah is to welcome converts. Anything one does that could be construed as unwelcoming is clearly violating a commandment. And it's easy to see why a convert could be hurt by comments about their lack of yichus. For many people, the beauty of Judaism is the Jewish community, and certainly community is a huge part of observancy. If you community seems to reject you, it can easily feel like the religion itself it distancing itself from you.
What's with all the haters this week??
Backseat Blogger
Convert etiquette
Sorry, I have zero sympathy for Ms Winner. She should have realized that it says more about the people who uttered those stupidities than about her. Perhaps she could have used the opportunities when people uttered stuyiot like that to educate them about the commandment of loving the ger.
In my experience I haven't broadcast that I'm a convert but then neither do I hide it. I've even had a few of the 'funny you don't look Jewish' comments and 'why on earth would you want to convert!' lines. Depending on the circumstances of the asker I've either laughed it off or given them a serious answer.
After who wouldn't want to be Jewish?
Uriah
Conversion
The majority of people at my shul are converts, so it's great for me, a young man on his way to conversion. They are patient and understanding and no one ever looks at me cross when I do something they aren't used to, becuase most of them did the same thing. I've never felt more welcome than I do when I'm with those people, even in my own home. My opinions matter, my belief in HaShem matters, and their opinions and their beliefs matter to me.
I was expecting a horrid experience filled with over busy rabbis and rude and downright mean, angry, disrespectful congregants, and instead I've been led to the calmest, gentlist group of people I could ever hope to meet.
Casey
The shiksa speaks!
Even I don't view Jewish converts in the same light as I view those who were born Jews. One of my favorite professors in college was a convert to Judaism, but to me she was always a Jewish convert and not a true Jew. I think there is something about being Jewish that goes deeper than religion (not that I am in any way an expert on this topic). There is such a long, long history attached to the Jewish people, and someone who has been born into that history just has a deeper connection to it.
Converts should be welcomed into the community, but maybe they should keep in mind that they really are converts to the religion, and that they cannot be the same as one who is born Jewish.
Great topic, Tamar.
Backseat Blogger
Reply to Casey
Casey, stupid comments about 'true Jews' are a good reason to brush up on the halakha of conversion. Get thee to a rabbi to learn. Shame on you for your attitude.
The idea that being born to something gives one a superiority over others who choose that something is absolute crap, especially in these days of assimilation.
It's hardly uncommon for the ger tzedek in couples to the more knowledgable one about matters Jewish.
Casey
Reply to Backseat Blogger
You're right, I shouldn't have made a comment about something I don't truly understand. I will do my research next time.
Uriah
Fear in Conversion
Before the mikvah there are times where I read things and am tickled in an odd way. Things that make me feel "special", almost, when I come across them. Take for example "We are Jews because the Almighty chose us to be His ``cherished treasure from all the nations... a kingdom of priests and a holy people.''", something I recieved from a mailing list from chabad.org which makes me feel as if my beliefs are actually based on something and good for something. Then I remember that I'm not Jewish...yet, and that yet really gets to me. I feel ashamed for having taken this long to get to where I'm trying to go and ashamed of a life filled with double quarter pounders with cheese and strawberry milkshakes for dessert. I feel ashamed that, at 24, I have to sit down and ask the same questions the children in Hebrew school are asking at a much younger age.
And then I remember, "I'm not Jewish...yet" and I think, "Hey, I could eat that cheeseburger, couldn't I?" But what would be the point? HaShem said not to, so why do it? I'm not some rebbelious teenage tart trying to do the opposite of what I've been told. I'm a twenty-something finally trying to follow the roadmap laid before me to live a righteous life, and I go on, and I study, and I learn, as many did before me.
Take, for example, the story of Hillel's convert who asked to be taught the Torah while standing on one foot, only after he would convert. No where in that story is it mentioned that the ger tzedekh is not as worthy of the title "Jew" as Hillel or any other "born Jew". The line I like the best is, "Yes, I was born Jewish, but to Episcopalian parents" or Catholic, or some other Protestant, Christian, Pagan, whatever parents one may have had. It doesn't matter.
Everyone should feel free to come together and worship and rejoice in HaShem's grace and love.
The Parshah from a week or so ago spoke of how we would be blessed if we did right by our Creator, and cursed if we chose "the flesh of the arm" (from the Haftarah) over His ways. The rabbi asked what we thought of that and I likened it to a parent speaking to a child. She asked if it would be more along the lines of an abusive parent. Not to me, since a truly abusive parent would simply allow they're children to suffer when they did wrong.
So why do we pick and choose the mitzvot we follow? Why do we observe Shabbat and keep kashrut, yet treat the proselyte as if they are a second class citizen? After all, weren't we strangers in mitzrayim?
Akiva David
Thanks, Tamar
Thanks for covering this topic, Tamar.
As a convert, my experience at my shul has been almost entirely positive. Nearly everyone there has been warm and welcoming. I've had a few people asked me why I decided to convert, but I've handled those questions in much the same way as Backseat Blogger has, which seems to work. Those born Jews who have reacted negatively or who seem baffled by my decision strike me as acting in a defensive way, primarily because those of us in my congregation who chose Judaism tend to be more Jewishly literate than they are.
I do wonder whether reactions would be different had I converted before marrying a Jew (that's not my situation). I'd be interested in hearing whether anyone has experienced difficulty because of that.
Anonymous
The question of being born
The question of being born Jewish and converting is an interesting debate for me. I was adopted at birth by my parents who are Jewish, and was brought up Jewish in every sense of the word from that moment on. By bloodlines I am Irish, Polish and French, which strongly hints at a non-Jewish bloodline, though there is no way to know for sure. I grew up outside of D.C., a neighborhood mixed with many races, religions, diplomats and interracial adoptions even within the Jewish community, so I never experienced any form of snubbing. Nor did it ever occur to me that my "Jewishness" was any less than anyone else.
The first time I ever experienced discrimination from someone within the Jewish faith was in a debate with an Orthodox man who proclaimed that I was somehow less than him. I was less not for being a woman, or an extremely liberal minded conservative/reform Jew but because I was not born from a Jewish woman. In my life I have experienced anti-Semitism, but I never expected to be so degraded and disregarded by someone within my own faith. To him, I am some sort of fake, a pretender.
That moment made me so sad and frustrated because we already live in a world plagued by hate of the unknown and debasing social hierarchies. To me, to discriminate against anyone, including one of your own, is completely unforgivable and only shows a personal lack of intelligence, understanding of spirituality and goodwill towards you fellow man (and woman).
Anonymous
Where did it all go wrong
I converted about 14 years ago via an Orthodox Rabbinate.
Yes Jewish racism is alive and well. I think one of the most painful experiences was one shule where I used to go to where basically every person who set foot into had to, just HAD to be informed that I was a convert. This was all done by someone who was basically Haredi, you know Frum from Birth, Yichus and Gelt coming out his ears.
So it would either be approached by strangers telling me "you know I think it's great that you are a convert" (why are you telling me this ? did I invite you into my private life ?) or look up from davening to find a total stranger sneering at me as if I was some kind of animal (thanks !).
The situation reached a climax when one particular congregant who was the officially designated "Mekarev Meister" came up to me and started giving me this entire spiel done in a country bumpkin style accent to which I suppose was meant to get me eating out of his hand. Up until then he had talked to me in a perfectly normal manner, but now it was going to be Jewish Master Race versus Subhuman Sheigetz. The more I tried to avoid this individual, the more I was pursued. This went on until I stopped going to shule.
I don't look any different from born-Jews, just a bit Sephardi I guess.
An interesting situation developed with friends my wife and I made once we moved cities. They would unleach a never ending tirade against non-Jews. Comments such as "All goyim are sex perverts", "I wish Hashem would take all my problems and give them to a goy", "My father would have been happy if I had of married a goy", (said in disgust) "stupid goyim", etc, etc were pretty common. I never really said anything because I knew that those people were troubled and unhappy. Later on when it was revealed by a mutual friend that I was indeed a convert, I think they were pretty humiliated. (I never intended that, it just happend). The husbands comment was "It (the fact that I am a convert) explains everything". Hmmm, explains everything indeed. Fortunately I had begun to distance myself from them some months before my status as a convert becoming known to them. This was because I just could not cope with their crazyness, and the wife had this real thing for me, and got me caught up in one of those icky emotional affairs.
As a background to all this my wife's grandfather who is a wealthy, virulently anti-religious holocaust survivor and outright sadist basically had declared war on me after I married my wife. It was astonishing to see how easy it was for him to use my status as a convert against me in turning people against me. So easy to press peoples' fear buttons.
I have done a whole lot of work in building my self-esteem and getting over my family of origin problems, but I'm still socially isolated and don't go to shule. Not regularly anyway.
I married with children, who all go to Jewish schools. Basically at home we are modern orthodox, I wear a yarmulke all the time, kosher, shabbes, taharas ha-mishpocha, etc, etc.
I do realise that a large part of my problems stem from my family of origin, which could basically be described a combination of satanic cult abuse and a copy of "A Boy Called It". I was lucky to get out of my childhood alive.
So here I am, still clinging on. I do have hope for the future even though it's been pretty darned painful.
Thanks for listening.
Akiva David
Where did it all go wrong
I'm so sorry to hear about your negative experiences. It's strikes me as particularly sad and ironic when those who claim to be frum nonetheless conveniently ignore a number of mitzvot, especially the mitzvah to love the ger. The fact that you came from such a painful unbringing should be cause for more people to embrace you, not to push you away.
I sincerely hope that you find a more accepting place to pray and find a sense of community.
Anonymous
A White Lie
Shalom Aleichem everyone, I'm glad that we are having this dialog, as painful as it is to have. You all have giving me the courage to come clean, sort of, I mean all you don't know me and so I can be honest. I am a convert myself although saying it makes me feel a bit uncomfortable. I know once we convert we are not to acknowledge it for we are Jewish in every sense of it, at least that is what I was thought by many kind and blessed people I have come to know. I went to school in the Midwest and the town had a very small Jewish community, mainly composed of the faculty and their spouses. The community embraced me with open arms, I would like to think it was because of who I was and not out of necessity, I was always the 10th man (a minion is composed of 10 men).
Since leaving school I have been telling everyone that I'm half Jewish and half Catholic, my father obviously being the Catholic. This makes me more acceptable to everyone around me, for the obvious reason. At the beginning I felt a shame for telling this lie, although as the years have passed by it seems easier to tell it and I actually have started to believe in it. You see, I have justified the lie by making myself believe that somewhere in my family's history there was some Jewish blood, I have no proof of it and BELIEVE me I have looked. And because I remember a rabbi telling me that every Jewish soul, born and convert, was present at Mount Sinai at the giving of the Torah.
I dislike the fact that I have to say this in order to be accepted, let me correct myself here, to FEEL accepted as a Jew. So I ask you, after rambling for a few seconds, is this sense of not being fully Jewish our own insecurity? I wonder...
Thank you for letting me talk...
Wondering Jew
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