Yes, definitely. I was raised in a Pentecostal Christian environment. Pentecostal Christians are typically very conservative, both politically and religiously. Pentecostalism is among the fastest growing movements in religion today, though for many years it was seen as isolated and separate from the rest of “mainstream Christianity.” By mainstream, I mean things like Methodists and Presbyterians.
Pentecostals favor mysticism, so a lot of my childhood was spent in church services where demons could be “cast out” of churchgoers, people “spoke in tongues” (usually the utterance of random syllables believed to be communication from the Divine), and so on. I spent my early years as a “kid preacher.” I taught adult education classes, I preached sermons on Sunday nights for my church and another local one… I was heavily indoctrinated, to say the least. But I also had a surprising knack for theology.
When I got older, I began to realize how toxic much of my upbringing was for me, how some of the teachings seemed controlling and unreasonable. Over a period of about two years I lost my community, my family restructured, and I essentially lived in my car: hopping from place to place and staying with friends or relatives that would have me. At the recommendation of someone close to me, I left my hometown and began taking college classes in Michigan. I started studying religion in my spare time, to see where I belonged.
When did you become interested in Judaism?
Many people think that because I was raised in Christianity, I perhaps already had some exposure to what Judaism was, however biased. That couldn’t be further from the truth. In the community I was a part of, Judaism rarely (if ever) came up, not even when talking about Jesus’ background. I became interested in Judaism as part of my study of many religions, Islam and Buddhism especially. It was just as alien to me as the other religions were.
Judaism attracted me because of how pragmatic it was. In Judaism, almost everything has a physical manifestation. As we participate in the many rituals of Jewish life, we engage with the ultimate meanings of our existence. Nothing is simply done to be done. While some rituals have evolved, they’ve done so to be more practical, more meaningful. Nothing is superfluous. I fell in love with this. I also affirmed a belief I already held in the oneness of Hashem: how Hashem is everywhere and permeating everything. The Chasidic perspective appeals to me most.
I began attending a local synagogue conveniently across the street from my college. I would walk to Shabbat services every Friday night. My very first service was actually an Erev Rosh HaShanah service about three years ago. Eventually I approached the rabbi about studying more. After a while, it was easy to feel at home. This wasn’t just at my local synagogue; it was in every synagogue I visited. Judaism was my place.
Was your interest in Judaism inspired by a spiritual connection or an intellectual one?
For me, the two were always linked. Since my early days in a sheltered, often toxic religious background (one that fully had me reeled in at such a young age), I have often relied heavily on intellect to avoid being deceived twice. Judaism is, at times, an extremely intellectual practice. But that security of mind Judaism gives me spills over into my spiritual practice. To wit, when I daven, it may not be an inherently intellectual practice, but it demonstrates through my actions what my intellect affirms about the truths of Judaism.
How has your family responded to your choice?
Not well, as you could probably guess. Since I left the community, I have only had close contact with my mother. She isn’t particularly happy with my decision, but she will wish me happy holidays during Rosh HaShanah or Chanukah. While she doesn’t understand what I’ve chosen, she has (warily) attended services with me twice when I visited her in my home state. She respects my autonomy, and she’s open to learning, but it isn’t easy to see your son– former kid preacher– wrapped in a tallit and davenen in Hebrew. I’m not in contact with the rest of my family.
Has your Jewish community been welcoming?
Yes, for the most part. It’s a large enough community that many of them weren’t present during my conversion. So many just assume I’m another nice Jewish boy from the Midwest and treat me accordingly. Those in my community who know I’m a convert have never given me grief about it. Moreover, I visited a synagogue in my home state once just prior to finishing my conversion process, and after a pleasant conversation with the rabbi and some synagogue members, a nice lady tried introducing me to her granddaughter, who (she told me) “will be happy to show you around if you have any questions.” I think she was playing matchmaker. While most have never had anything negative to say about my being a convert, I don’t think any of them really know my background, with the exception of a small few (and my rabbi). Not that I think it would matter.
There are definitely many Jews who would either doubt my status, or declare me a heretic gentile in a heartbeat. While I’ve thankfully only run into a couple (one of them a rabbi, the other someone who sent me a hostile comment under an article I wrote), I know they’re out there. I also know that their hostility is not the norm. I could spend the rest of my life attempting to solidify my status in the minds of Jews I meet. I don’t have time for that, frankly. While I have taken steps since my initial conversion to become halakhically compliant, I do so for myself. What I have time for is community building, civil discourse, engaging this faith that I love more than anything else I’ve ever been a part of, and un-learning what I think I know about the world I live in.
What about your life has changed since your conversion, aside from the obvious religious practices?
In some ways, a lot. In other ways, hardly nothing at all. Since I lost my childhood community before ever moving to Michigan, I was already in the process of discovering new friendships and relationships while practicing Judaism formally for the first time. So for many with whom I am close, I have always been Jewish, at least in part. I’m more observant now than I was at the time of my conversion. I wear a tallit katan, and I’ve recently adopted wearing a kippah. I daven, though I struggle to learn the regularity of it.
Essentially, I intend to add further and further halakhic observances, not to become “Super-Jew” (you know, the one guy or gal you know who seems to be fully observant in every way… every fringe where it should be and with all of the davenen times memorized). But I do want to commit seriously to a ritualized Judaism. Every day is a new adventure.
Since my conversion, I’ve begun to strongly consider the rabbinate, though that is at least two years away. In the meantime, I teach at the United Jewish School, which is non-denominational. I also occasionally contribute to adult education related events. I lead holiday services for the 1-5 grade crowd, and I’ve done programs with our youth group. I write for Jewish movements, student organizations, etc. And I participate in an independent minyan which meets irregularly. I’m also working on hosting a project that addresses Jewish responses to the problem of domestic violence; I’m looking for synagogue space to sponsor the event.
What would you like to see changed with Judaism/in the Jewish community?
I want to see Jews move past labels. No offense to my Christian friends, but denominations truly work better for their communities than they do for Jews. That’s not to say I don’t believe in Jewish pluralism. I wholeheartedly do. But it’s because I believe in pluralism that I think labels and living by them has to go. I know Jews who would be terrified to cross their denominational boundaries and make friends “on the other side.” It’s a bit sad. I think that in 50 years, those lines, names, and boundaries will be far more fluid than they are now. I hope that means more Jews engaging halakhah and each other at the same time.