Jew by choice

Last week I approached my boss, Christine, and said that we needed to talk. “It’s nothing serious. I mean, it is, but nothing to do with work. I mean, a bit to do with work, but it’s not about work“.

What I was getting to was that I needed to take the day off on September 14th, because of Rosh Hashanah. “I have decided to convert into Juddaism – and I am starting now“. She had always known that Yann-Yves is Jewish, and I had always known that one day I’d take this step. The time had come. “It’s a huge challenge” I said, which she replied with a smile: “Challenges seem to be your thing“.

I believe it was little over a month ago when I took the initiative for us to start observing Shabbat. At first, Yann-Yves was hesitant. Too many memories of boring teenage days with no phone, no TV, no public transportation and so many other “no”s. But he did miss the tradition. He missed the preparation of a thought-out homemade meal, which was to be enjoyed at a table full of family and friends as they welcomed Sabbath into their home. He also missed the following day – which despite the many restrictions, would in fact pave the way for lots of reading and reflection. I had no memories of that from my own teenagehood, and yet I craved it too.

But observing Shabbat wasn’t enough.

I am not cut out for pretending to be something I am not. Attending services at the orthodox synagogue would make me deeply uncomfortable. Separating from Yann-Yves and heading to the female section (a year ago, I didn’t even know men sat separately from women), would put me in automatic pretend mode: I’d pretend I could follow the prayers – raising when women would rise, moving and bowing when they’d move and bow – while ultimately trying my best to avoid the inquisitive stares that seemed to affirm: “You don’t belong here”.

Maybe they weren’t staring at me after all. Maybe it was a figment of my anxious imagination. But even in this fantasy, I couldn’t help but admitting: I don’t belong here… or not yet.

Before we met the rabbi, I was extremely nervous. “What if he asks about my religion? I wasn’t even baptized. But technically my family is catholic. Should I said that, or would that be worse??“. All I wanted was to convince him that I could belong.

As it turns out, he never asked that of me. I was welcome as I was – Brazilian, tattooed, in a religious limbo and without a drop of Jewish blood in my body -, and would surely continue to feel welcome as I fulfilled my desire to become a Jew by choice.

An hour went by without the rabbi even mentioning my conversion (though that was the reason why we’d scheduled an appointment with him), until Yann-Yves finally blurted out: “So how does the conversion work?”

“Oh yes, I remember you mentioned that in your email“, answered the rabbi. “I require three things: attendance in all Jewish Holidays, as well as Shabbat at least twice a month; you must be able to read Hebrew in order to follow the services; and finally, you must attend and participate in courses about Jewish history and culture.” After a brief pause, he continued: “People think it is easy to convert in the Reform community, but although it is a very individual process, it should take anywhere between a year, to two or longer“. I always knew this would be the biggest challenge I’d ever taken, but I was glad I could still be myself in the process.

Then the subject of conversion wasn’t mentioned again. The rabbi proceeded to invite us to the services as guests, affirming we could take our time to decide whether we’d like to become members of the Reform community.

To be continued