But where to start. I went to the local book store. They didn’t have anything on Judaism. The owner suggested that I go to one of the big book chain stores. So off I went to Barnes & Noble.
I was shocked at how many different books there were about Judaism. There were dozens and dozens. Titles included Living Judaism; The Complete Guide to Jewish Belief, Tradition and Practice; Basic Judaism ‒ there was even The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Understanding Judaism. But I selected A Christian’s Guide to Judaism, by Michael Lotker.
I couldn’t wait to get home to start reading it. So, I bought a coffee and took a seat in the coffee shop and started reading. I was so absorbed in my reading; I didn’t notice the woman standing next to me. She finally tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention. “Thinking about converting?” she asked. I told her no. “Why did you buy that book, if you don’t mind me asking.”
I told her the whole story. She was amazed that my parents could keep it a secret from me for so long. She said that she had converted about 15 years ago. I asked her to join me because I had nothing but questions. She sat and said she’d be a happy to try to answer them. We introduced ourselves to each other ‒ her name was Rachel. She said she changed her name when she converted. “I was reinventing my life; therefore, I changed my name to change my destiny when I converted,” she said. “It’s the reason God changed Abram’s and Sarai’s names and when Jacob’s name was changed to Israel. She had answered a question before I even knew to ask it.
After about an hour and a half and several cups of coffee, I told her that I needed to get going. She agreed and suggested that I meet her for Saturday morning services at her synagogue. She said she never misses a Saturday, so whenever I decide to go, she’d be there.
By the time I got home I was so excited I couldn’t wait for Ralph to get home from work. I finished the book and took a little nap. The little nap turned into a long nap ‒ I didn’t wake up until Ralph came in the door. Which was just as well. I told him about meeting Rachel and I’d like to take her up on her invitation to meet her at her synagogue on Saturday. “Ralph, I’d be extremely nervous. Would you go with me?” He thought a few minutes and said that he would.
That Saturday we arrived at Beth Hillel just in time. I asked one of the men where Rachel sat. He said that she is a floor gabbai and sits in the first row on the other side of the sanctuary. “The first row? My God, I don’t want to sit in the first row. Everyone will know that we don’t belong here.” Ralph was just as disturbed as I was. But when we opened the sanctuary door, we saw that hardly anyone was there. I did see Rachel and we shyly went down the outside aisle.
When we reached the first row, Rachel saw me, jumped up and hugged me. I introduced Ralph and we took a seat next to her. I asked her what a floor gabbai was. She told me that people receive honors during the Torah service and that she had a list of honorees and that, at the proper time, she retrieves them and takes them to where they need to be. About three hours later, the service was finally over. Rachel told us to follow her for kiddush and we would have lunch.
We went to the dining room. It was quite crowded and a bunch of men were in one corner singing in Hebrew and then they each guzzled a shot glass of whiskey. Rachel took us to one of the buffet lines, we filled our plates then found a table. While we ate, people came by our table and Rachel would introduce us. About half the people walked around while they ate ‒ talking to as many as they could. The room became quite loud, and the people seemed so happy to see each other.
Finally, the rabbi came to our table. Rachel introduced us and said that this is the woman I told you about. The rabbi was especially pleased to meet me. He invited me to call his office on Monday and make an appointment to meet with him. I nervously said that I would. I turned to Ralph and said, “What am I getting myself into?”
I called Monday and made an appointment. He was so anxious to meet with me that he made it for the next day. Tuesday morning, I arrived at the synagogue. I had to be buzzed in. I found the rabbi’s office and took a seat in the outer office. The secretary announced me to the rabbi and he at once came out and shook my hand, and without letting go, he took me into his office. We met for more than an hour. He had so many questions ‒ almost as many as I had.
He said that he had another appointment, but that the synagogue was beginning an Introduction to Judaism class in two weeks. “The cost is $150, and it meets here every Wednesday at 7:00 pm for the next six months. If you would like to attend, I will waive the fee since you are already Jewish.” I said that the fee is not a problem and that I would like to attend. He said, “Wonderful. Now there are some in the class that are converting and some that are Jewish, knew they were Jewish, but didn’t grow up Jewishly. They know as little about Judaism as you do, so don’t be concerned about your level of knowledge.”
Six months of classes and I don’t mind telling you, I was floored by how much there was to learn. The big thing I learned was that Judaism isn’t just a religion ‒ it is a way of life. Ralph and I had a discussion following each class. He seemed thoroughly interested in what I was learning. After the first month he decided to join me in the class. I’m not good about asking questions, but Ralph was a champion. And the rabbi was genuinely happy to answer Ralph’s questions.
Ralph grew up as a Presbyterian and he said that he was never encouraged to ask questions about the religion or Christianity in general. He too was amazed at the depth of Judaism. Ralph signed up for another class at the synagogue. The class was a group of men who were studying the Talmud ‒ the body of Jewish civil and ceremonial law and legend. Ralph was astonished at the way the Jews argued about their religion ‒ even questioning God. When Ralph remarked about this, one of the men said that wrestling with God is not only normal but expected as part of one’s Jewish identity. In fact, the man continued, the word Israel means wrestles with God.
After a couple of months, I was becoming captivated by what I was learning and I told that to Ralph. At that moment, Ralph announced that he would be converting to Judaism. “Oh Ralph, are you sure?” “Absolutely. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so stimulated,” he said. I asked if he had told the rabbi and he said yes and that he was already on the path.
We both continued to study. A year and a half later, Ralph went through his conversion ritual. It was the first time I had ever seen him cry. He said it was a shame that my mother hadn’t been with us through all this. After his conversion, he said, “Let’s have a Jewish wedding.” Ralph is the kind of guy that jumps into things with both feet. At first, I wasn’t too keen on the idea. But the more I thought about it, the more I liked it.
We met with the rabbi who guided us through the expectations and rituals surrounding a Jewish wedding. The rabbi asked us what our Hebrew names were. We hadn’t thought about that. We asked the rabbi’s advice. He said that we should take on a name that reflects who we are. He added that, traditionally, Jews are named after a deceased ancestor. I though and thought. Then I said, my aunt Rebecca died during the Holocaust, could I take her name? He said that would be perfect. He said that I should definitely use her name. He said that the Hebrew form of Rebecca is Rivka ‒ I could use that. I agreed. My Hebrew name would be Rivka. He added that you include your parents in your Hebrew name. Therefore, your name would be Rivka bat you father’s Hebrew name v’ your mother’s Hebrew name.
I told him that my father was not Jewish. He said then you could just use your mother’s Hebrew name. He asked if I knew it. I said that I did not. He asked what her name was. I said Elizabeth. “Ah, in Hebrew Elizabeth is Elisheva,” the rabbi said. “Ralph, you chose Joshua or Yehoshua in Hebrew, and the parents of a Jew by choice are Avraham v’ Sarah.
Ralph, I still feel like I was born yesterday, but at least now I know who I am.
***
Home