The Acceptance/Alienation of the Convert

In the Bible, the Hebrew word for what in the modern era we call a convert is "ger," which roughly translates to a foreigner or stranger. While one would not generally refer to a religious convert as "Joe the stranger" in conversation, I feel that after "coming out" as a convert, people treat me differently. Overwhelmingly, their reactions are very positive: "Wow! When/why/how did you convert?" At times, though, the person I'm talking to begins to mock themselves in the form of a compliment to the convert by saying something like, "you're so well-informed … I was born Jewish but didn't know about that."

What's harder, though, are the moments of confusion when someone assumes that I was born and raised Jewish until I say something about my parents going to church or visiting my grandparents for Christmas. Before I went to college, I didn't have to explain that I was a convert in the middle of what started out as simple conversation about plans for winter break or upcoming Jewish holidays.

Harder still is finding a place for yourself in the community when your family isn't Jewish. Since so much of Jewish observance is centered around family meals and celebrations, if your family isn't Jewish (or observant, as is the case for some) you become dependent on the goodwill of Jewish outreach services for finding a place to celebrate a Passover seder, light a menorah, make holiday food and celebrate the sabbath (unless you're lucky enough to be a college student on a campus with a large, engaged Jewish community).

That shaky interim period between calling your parent's house "home" and creating your own that seems to start in college I've tried to see as a time of intense religious reflection, because once you become responsible for a spouse and children you have much less time or space to make big changes religiously. When you're a convert and also the only Jew in your family, you're forced to think for yourself a lot anyway. Much earlier than most of your religious brethren, you have to keep track of the holidays for yourself, pay your own membership dues, find places to go for holiday meals and services and educate yourself. There are, I think, advantages to this, but it at times it feels quite taxing.

Given that most converts to Judaism that I've met seem to convert around birth (for adopted children) or marriage (for a non-Jewish person marrying someone Jewish), I wonder how many other converts have that awkward period of being tied to your birth home and needing to make your own home. For me, the ultimate fulfillment of marrying and having a family would be to observe the holidays in my own home, with my children, and not having to rely on others' charity. Even more than that, the relief of no longer feeling so stuck, in many respects, outside both my family and the Jewish community.

One More Thought

I think I heard at least 3-4 covers of "Frosty the Snowman," "The Christmas Song," "Baby It's Cold Outside," and "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" during my 5-hour shift tonight.

I wonder why I haven't heard "Jingle Bell Rock" at least once at work; we've completely switched to Christmas-themed music (that is, 95% secular-ish Christmas songs and 5% secular winter songs) but we seem to be lacking some of the better pop Christmas songs.

I'm sure, for example, that there are more people who like "Jingle Bell Rock" than "Little St. Nick" ("Little Deuce Coupe" with minor, but not very good, lyric changes).

With that, I bid you all a good night, and hope that the Christmas music you hear in stores/elevators/people's leaking headphones etc. is at least tolerable.

Christmas is Coming

Coming from a good ole' semi-traditional Protestant family, one of my first visual memories is the shadows a Christmas tree makes on the wall behind it at night. The silhouettes of pine needles in duller hues of the lights on the tree all mingled together in the frigid silence of a New England December night.

My first Christmas after I had started going to synagogue junior year was, needless to say, kind of awkward. The childhood memories of Christmas and family traditions of selecting a Christmas tree and decorating it were still strong. Though the religious significance wasn't there for me, I wasn't blind. My parents still wanted to have Christmas, and I still lived at home, so I agreed to sort of keep the family aspect. On Christmas morning there was a dreidel in my stocking and I didn't have presents marked "from Santa."

The following year was easier, since I had studied more and my parents gave me a menorah and dreidel-shaped cookies. So, for eight days we had a lit menorah in the living room window and a fully lit and decorated Christmas tree in the background. 

The year after, I had been Jewish for nine and a half months and was at school for Chanukah, so I got a freebie menorah and candles from the semi-off campus Chabad house and celebrated in the midst of finals.

This year, I've ending up working retail during the ever-growing "holiday" (do you think you're fooling anyone, PC-ish stores?) season. I realize that I can't really view Christmas as a "national" or "secular" holiday, yet I can justify enjoying Christmas songs on the radio by telling myself that there are, indeed, secular-ish aspects of the holiday and that, well, Jingle Bell Rock is *really* fun to listen to.