New Jew Voices Jewish Folks' Tales

It occurred to me today that I hadn’t posted my conversion speech/d’var Torah here. So without further adieu here it is.

Today, the Shabbat immediately preceding Passover, is called Shabbat HaGadol or the great Sabbath. Each year on this Shabbat we get a special haftarah reading from Malachi that references messianic prophecy, the return of the prophet Elijah and the opportunity for teshuva, or a return to righteous living, for all of us. But what makes this day so special? Why is this particular Shabbat great? Like many questions in Judaism there is no one right answer. The Rabbis had opinions on the subject though so there are some theories. Before we explore those theories I want to tell you why it is indeed a Shabbat HaGadol for me personally.

Though geographically we’re only about 100 miles from where I grew up, spiritually we are worlds away. I grew up on a farm in Southern Kentucky surrounded by churches and knowing absolutely no Jews. I have nothing negative to say about the spiritual paths of those I grew up with, including some of my family members who are here today, but I always knew that none of those paths were right for me.

There were a lot of questions and a lot of steps, both small and large, stretching back nearly 20 years that led me to Judaism. I won’t bore you with all of them, I’ll just tell you about the most important one, the last one.

In early 2008 I came across a quote from Rabbi Rachel Cowan. She said “Jews have a tradition of saying 100 blessings a day. And what’s a blessing? It’s noticing a moment. Thanking G-d for giving us life, sustaining us in life and bringing us to this moment.”

In response to Rabbi Cowan’s words my heart said “Yes, here it is. A life of finding good, doing good and being grateful; this is the path for you.”

But my head tried to talk me out of it. Though I had thought about conversion for quite some time before I came across that Rabbi Cowan quote my insecurities always convinced me I was presumptuous to seriously consider it. And what on earth could I bring to the Jewish people? Why would they want me?

But the yearning of my soul – and forgive me for sounding so earnest but it’s the only accurate description – the yearning of my soul wouldn’t be denied. I remember sitting at my desk and just having to write to Rabbi S, I could absolutely do nothing else. He responded with warmth and kindness. Then he assigned books to read. To a nerd like me getting assigned books to read and study is like giving candy to a little kid. Then I learned more about how thinking, questioning and arguing is not only allowed but also encouraged in Judaism. Since I list thinking and arguing as hobbies that attitude is perfect for me.

And so I began to study with Rabbi S, and set myself upon the last leg of the path that has led me to stand before you today.

Today is great and awesome for me because it is the first Shabbat since I emerged from the mikvah symbolically and spiritually reborn. It is the first Shabbat that I get to stand before you as a Jew, as a member of the Jewish family. It is the first Shabbat of my Jewish life and I’m incredibly proud and pleased to share it with you.

Now, onto the Rabbis’ theories about why this Shabbat is great for our entire community. One theory is that the 10th of Nissan in the year of the exodus was on a Saturday. The fact that the Israelites could select a sheep for sacrifice without being crushed by their sheep worshipping Egyptian masters was in fact a miracle. Miraculous Shabbat equals great Shabbat.

A second theory is that congregations used to get the gift of a lengthy sermon from rabbis only twice a year. Once on Shabbat Shuva and once on the Shabbat immediately preceding Passover. Special sermon equals great Shabbat.

A third theory is that the setting aside of the sacrificial lamb was the first mitzvah the Jewish people were commanded to fulfill and with the fulfillment of that mitzvah Jews reached a new level of spiritual growth, a new level of spiritual maturity. It was a collective adult bar and bat mitzvah of sorts. Mass bar mitzvah of course equals great Shabbat. This theory is my favorite because the metaphor of an adult bat mitzvah speaks to my heart and to the significance of this day for me.

Similar to those adult Jews who fulfilled the first mitzvah and experienced spiritual growth and freedom I come to you as an adult who has learned the joy, challenges and freedom found in mitzvot and living a Jewish life.

The special haftarah for today alludes to our communal responsibility to take care of the poor and to our duty not to “subvert the cause of the widow, orphan and stranger.” Once I was a stranger among you and you welcomed me.

Your choice to welcome me into your synagogue, community and the Jewish family is a reminder to me that we have the choice of how we want to live, who we want to be and how we want to influence the world around us. We have the choice each day to consciously try to live up to our potential as beings created in G-d’s image. You, my newly acquired spiritual community and family, inspire me to do that and I thank you.

by Paul Sizemore

This was my first visit to Rabbi Lippe in Austin at CBI from my Louisville home. I was in conversion classes at CBI with her a year prior, and then moved back to Louisville. To date, I feel a strong pull towards her and CBI, more so than any other Rabbi and shul. This meeting was to plan my conversion spanning Louisville and Austin.

I’ve never been one for having the foresight to take the easy route in life. I’ve decided to convert to Judaism outside the structure of a conversion class and spanning two cities. Not the easy route, but my route.

I remember Rabbi Lippe telling me that it was going to be hard, and it would be easier if I were in a conversion class. If I did it in the city where my sons lived, in the city where the woman I loved lived, things would be a lot easier.

I remember that message clearly. My thought at that point was, “It’s not hard if you want it.” I didn’t say that; I thought that would be tantamount to talking back. I’d never do that to a Rabbi, at least not until I’m Jewish.

Conversion class is religious, and doesn’t often deal in the profane. Class gives you knowledge. I’m after both the knowledge and the experience of being a Jew in the real world. What makes people Jewish, and what will make me Jewish – not in class, not in shul, but in the real world? I have to find that. I’ve always searched for the wisdom of experience.

I sat in Rabbi Lippe’s office, so excited about the future. Then fear hit me. I don’t know what it was, where it was coming from. It wasn’t about the reading obligations, attending more services than most Jews attend, or the other mounting requirements. It was about the unknown. Where would this journey take me? What type of Jew would I be? Will I be strong enough to do this? What will I do in the real world when faced with real problems of the profane?

It’s continued courage. In order to convert there are continual questions of my full engagement. Any lapse in motivation or intent can result in another year or more of delay before conversion. I want to be a ‘confident Jew.’ To me, that means taking every step on my own, not being whisked away on the conveyor belt of a conversion class.

Since I count conversion as a small part of being Jewish, I asked my Rabbi about a one, five, ten and fifty year plan. Her one-year goals for me are to read a big pile of Jewish books, go to two Friday & Saturday services a month, and go to two Torah studies a month. In that one year, I want to find what it means for me to be a Jew and be able to have the courage and knowledge to defend my beliefs and actions.

At the end of my conversion, I want:
• To know what it means to be a Jewish man.
• To center my conversion around the Torah, the rituals and prayers.
• To leave conversion as a confident Jew.

Rabbi Susan Lippe’s 1,5,10 and 50 year Plan for Paul from Paul Sizemore on Vimeo.

by Paul Sizemore

There were a few months of my life where I had no idea what to spiritually do. I was stuck between going back to the religion of my childhood or pushing forward to the unknown of Judaism. Maybe it was that I didn’t have the courage to move, maybe I now realize more of the importance of conversion, and how deep the commitment and benefits run. It’s not about having something to do every Friday, it’s about a lifetime of being able to give.

I was so confused in life, looking for a direction, a direction that made sense, a direction that was right to take. There are key times in life where you make turns on the path in your life; at this intersection, there was a Baptist Minister and the haze of the unknown.

I remember the feeling like it was yesterday; the ambiguity of life was as thick as the brier patch I was in on a mountain biking excursion in college. I rode about 15 miles out to a reservoir, and then rode the trail around the water. I ended up on a trail that was submerged, and after wading out a little to see if I could pick the trail up again down the shoreline, I realized I couldn’t continue. There was a road about fifty yards away, on the other side of an overgrown field. I either had to go back, or forge my own path through the brush to the road in the distance.

I pushed my bike toward the road without a thought, then once a third of the way there, stopped and realized I was waist high in a brier patch, a little bloody from cuts, and didn’t know whether to push forward, or go back. What would be least painful, and what would be better in the end. I made the decision to go forward, endure the discomfort, and get to the road ahead. I went slow, and made deliberate steps.

As I sat in Heine Brothers, waiting for the Baptist Minister, over a decade from my last Baptist public practice (attending the Southern Baptist Convention) the ambiguity was heavier this day than it was that moment at the reservoir. Growing up Christian I knew what Christianity was about. I wanted to make sure what I was doing was right, and who better to talk to about it than a Minister.

Also, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing anything in the Church, anything that would allow someone with my beliefs to exist there. I wanted my life to change the least.

After having talks with a couple Ministers, a Preacher, attending Baptist & Presbyterian services, talking to members of the congregations and Seminary students, I realized there is no getting around the key tenants of Christianity, no matter what the flavor. The Jesus-thing, original sin and the path to heaven are the same across the board. All those were points of rejection, and could not be resolved.

It was evident that once you leave Baptist, you never go back.

by Paul Sizemore

During the time between Baptism and planning to convert, I noticed a few key trends in the lives of the people around me. I had key gaps and deficiencies in my life, and looking to friends that modeled strength in the domains that were weak in my life lead me to recognize that trend.

There were certain friends that seemed to both appreciate and work those values into the world. They balanced community, family, spouse, independence, integrity, tolerance and results in life. Some of them didn’t do it gracefully, but they still managed to do it.

I routinely saw Jewish families stay together under stressful situations, doing what it took to stay together, and making difficult decisions that lead to happy homes, family well being and community involvement. That ability branches off of a theological and cultural belief system, and my admiration continually built throughout time.

As time went forward, my values and beliefs became stronger and more defined. A few of my core and secondary values, independence, courage, congruence within those values, personal relationships, diversity, empathy, community and measuring life by results are all part of the Judaism that I see today. I’ve seen the actions consistent with those beliefs in many Jewish friends, and that has been instrumental in the desire to convert.

I’ve observed that spiritually united homes are often the strongest, and I’ve rejected the Christian theology. The Judeo branch and the implementation of the Reform theology, even post/radical-Reform, is consistent with my beliefs and values. Gaining an appreciation that today’s Judaism isn’t the same as ‘my-parent’s Judaism’ was a key component of the decision to convert.

One convert-for-marriage I talked to, said, “It’s really easy from a belief standpoint, the Rabbi told me that I could even be agnostic, just not atheist.” I was amazed, and at first I thought that was a concession the Rabbi was making to allow a Jewish marriage. Nope, not the case. Authentic questioning is a requirement of Judaism, and if that means questioning it all, then that’s what it means. Realizing Judaism had this broad acceptance aspect was a big step.

I fell in love with the life that Judaism contributes to, and feel safe in the Jewish theology.

In all, a desire for a better life led me to Judaism.

by Paul Sizemore

People shift because of fear or desire. For the most part, fear prompts rapid transformations, and desire prompts gradual and enduring changes. My journey to Judaism can be broken into two parts, leaving the familiar, and finding the new.

The shift from my theological past was due to a fear – the fear of continuing to live my life on a misconception. To move beyond fear based spiritual decisions took many years, the desire for Judaism, a new community, culture and religion is being planned.

There are people that can jump from one thing to another, without having a transition time. They know what they want, identify it, and drive to it. I’m not that person; I need time to think about what I’m doing. I first identify what can be dropped from my life, what isn’t working, then I need to move that out of my life. I defend the space, and slowly and tentatively let the new in. Pushing back out the new that doesn’t feel right.

Here I am, now, with desire driving me forward in Judaism.

The decision to convert was a slow process, which first started with the realization of what wasn’t working in my life, and formally moving away from it. The last public affiliation I had with the Baptists was attending the 1992 Southern Baptist Convention where Dan Quayle spoke. I remember the anger that culminated as I stood there, a few yards away from Dan, and thinking about what my life would be like if I followed my impulses and punched him as he reached to shake my hand. He came from behind his podium, met the small crowd. The Secret Service was in the back of the pressroom, I closed my eyes, and when they opened, he was walking the other direction. I realized at that moment, I couldn’t hold any one person responsible for wasting my time in the Church.

This moment represented the anger of childhood, the anger toward my elders, the disdain that had built up, the coach at the Baptist school forcing us to run laps, it went way beyond rejecting the theology. It went into rebellion, too; I wasn’t going to convert until I was sure I was doing it for the right reasons. Fear and rebellion of youth are no reasons to convert.

The transition period in my life between leaving the Baptists and coming to Judaism was a long theological journey, and was explored with the inquisitiveness and spontaneity that is part of the core of who I am.

Also, perhaps a significant reason I was came to Judaism was my strong adolescent readings of Wittgenstein. His undercurrents of Judaism coupled with Bertrand Russell seemed to be just what a Baptist needed to find Judaism. The two formed a foundation for the shift in my theology.

Without a void in my life, and without defending it against mediocrity, I wouldn’t have found Judaism.

Photo by Paul Sizemore

“The only conversion my family would accept is an Orthodox one,” I said. “For that, you’d have to live an Orthodox life.”

“I’ll do it!” he said. (I am that good a kisser.)

“But if you were Orthodox, I wouldn’t want to go out with you anymore.”

That’s from an article on Tablet today called “Intermarried.” He did convert for her, he did become Orthodox in both belief and practice, they did get married. This was no case of conversion in name only. His level of observance has raised her level of observance and some tension has arisen with it. She had her whole life to figure out her level of Jewish observance and in a few short years he’s had to find his.

The converts that I know (including myself) do have a high level of observance. We came to Judaism as adults with our eyes open, knowing full well what we were getting into. We chose it, we leapt in with both feet.

It’s like the old joke:

The story is told of a young Jewish man who fell in love with a Gentile. His father was very upset, and told him “Don’t marry a shiksa. You’ll regret it!” The young woman saw how important Judaism was to her fiancé’s family. She started learning about Judaism and liked what she saw, so she studied with the rabbi and converted. The first week after the couple returns from their honeymoon, the son is back at work in the family business. Friday afternoon Dad tells the son, “See you tomorrow morning, we’ll go over the books,” and the son replies, “Sorry, Dad, I can’t come. Tomorrow is Shabbat, so we’ll be at shul.” Dad says, “I told you not to marry a shiksa!”

One of the members of my synagogue is a retired professor of ancient history. He’s also the son of a rabbi and one of the most knowledgeable people I’ve ever met. His knowledge of the ancient world is obviously vast but his knowledge of Jewish tradition and history is equally impressive. Since I’m always looking to learn more I recently asked him to give me a reading list. At first he demurred, “I only know ancient history” but I pressed him and said “help me learn more, help me learn more that will help me be a better educated Jew.” He came through with a list six pages long. Then this morning after minyan he gave me a short additional list titled “Jewish Feminism.” A reading list on the topic of Jewish Feminism is too awesome not to share. So here’s what the good professor recommends:

Women & Jewish Law by Rachel Biale

On Women & Judaism: View from Tradition by Blu Greenberg

On Being a Jewish Feminist by Susannah Heschel

Written Out of History: Our Jewish Foremothers by Emily Taitz Sondra Henry

Standing Again at Sinai: Judaism from a Feminist Perspective by Judith Plaskow

Four Centuries of Jewish Women’s Spirituality by Ellen M. Umansky, Dianne Ashton

Chattel or Person?: The Status of Women in the Mishnah by Judith Romney Wegne

Unlink Western Civ 101, or whatever equivalent you were required to take in college, attendance in conversion classes isn’t an absolute requirement. I mention this because the subject came up in conversation last week. Now, if the rabbi you’re studying with tells you to enroll in and complete the conversion class she is teaching well then yeah, the conversion class is required in your case. But there is no law that says you must attend formal conversion classes to convert. If conversion classes are available to you I think you’d be remiss not to take them but you can study with a rabbi without being in a class.

So if you searched the Jewish community calendar in your town but can find any conversion classes listed don’t be discouraged. That doesn’t mean the path to conversion is blocked in your town nor does it mean that it will be more difficult to convert. It just means that you’ll start working directly with a rabbi sooner than if you were just enrolled in a class.

Speaking of the community calendar you can also look for classes listed as “Judaism 101″ or “Intro to Judaism” or “Jewish Boot Camp” etc. Those classes aren’t just for people who are interested in converting but are definitely classes that potential converts should check out.

by Paul Sizemore

I’m not a new Jew, nor an old Jew. Right now, I’m not a Jew at all. I went to a rabbi about four years ago with the thoughts of conversion. I knew conversion was a life change, and wanted to know exactly what conversion would entail. Before ‘the meeting’ I was fairly sure it was something I wanted, and that I wanted to further check out the religion & community to help me come to a more educated decision on conversion. Filling my life with spirituality was important, and Judaism looked to be the most fulfilling option. I was religion shopping, much like a Jewish friend that recently moved to Louisville was Synagogue shopping.

I remember the first time being in the Temple to see the rabbi, not knowing where to go, not knowing what to do, but in my Sunday best – I dressed up a little to mask the nervousness. I remember the feeling of wanting to take in every word he said, every book, every action, like my first time on a roller coaster.

During that initial meeting, the rabbi laid out smaller decisions that needed to be appreciated in order to help me make the great decision to convert. They were big questions, theological, behavioral, philosophical, personal, family, community. The true distance, direction and difficulty of the path to decide was revealed during that meeting. I thought I had an idea of the complexity of the path, but I didn’t. I thought I had given it forethought, but it required far greater than I had given.

At that time I was looking at my desire to have stronger Spiritually and some religion in my life. There was a emptiness left by the abrupt end of my family, and the loss of identity that hinged on my role as a father. All this helped me realize the points of void in my life. I was desperately looking for spiritual help through the most difficult time of my life. Decisions and actions taken in times like that are often emotionally charged, and can often be less than perfect decisions. I decided then that if I came to Judaism, it would be on my terms, and in a time of personal strength, a time that I could bring my courage and resilient spirit not my vulnerabilities and frailties. Coming to Judaism too soon could lead to me casting doubt on my faith in subsequent times. I wouldn’t do anything rash, I would explore, give myself time, and make the right decision.

If there was an easier ‘try-before-you-buy’ option as there are with so many religions, a slow roll-in to Judaism would have been an easy sell. Judaism is structured much different than most other religions, the conversion process insists on a strong intent and desire that cannot be compromised through lapses in dedication.

Here I was not marrying a Jew, not knowing anyone in the Synagogue, but talking to a Rabbi about conversion. A former Baptist looking to Judaism for answers, looking for a better way to live, a better community.

New Jew Voices welcomes our first contributor Paul Sizemore. Paul will be sharing the story of how he first came to Judaism, his spiritual journey and the conversion path that he is on. Look for his first post next week.

My name is Paul Sizemore. I’m an amateur Reform Jew in Louisville, Kentucky. I see my conversion process as a small part of my Jewish journey; exploring conversion formally started in 2006. In 2008 I enrolled in a conversion class in Austin, TX at Congregation Beth Israel; I wanted to get a better idea of what it would entail to convert; being in the class demystified the conversion process. It also gave me direct experience with conversion stories, and I realized how important hearing personal accounts are because they help you feel a cohesion to the community at a time when you are named as different from the community you are moving toward. Conversion has been one of the most deliberated decisions in my life, and I feel it’s my duty to share what has brought me here, to contemporary Judaism from my Baptist roots.