Essay Contest: 2nd Place: Jo-el

Why in the world would I want to convert to Judaism? I have been asked this question numerous times in recent months. The questions come from Christian friends and family, as well as Jews themselves. I usually give a short answer—because I found something that works for me--but this response does not begin to explain it.

I was raised as a Catholic of Czechoslovakian and Spanish descent in a small blue-collar mill town in the mountains of northern West Virginia. As a child, I attended Mass on occasion and went to catechism classes. However, I was always the child in CCD classes raising my hand to ask questions. Why do you say there is only one God, and then tell me to pray to Jesus, Mary, and various saints? What the heck is that Holy Spirit thing all about anyway? Why would God send people to hell just because they weren’t born Catholic? At a very young age, I rejected the theology of Catholicism and the belief that it was the one true church.

When I left West Virginia at age 17 to attend college, I decided that, while I still believed in one God, I had no use for organized religion. If the topic came up, I jokingly referred to myself as a "recovering Catholic" or simply described myself as spiritual, but not religious. However, I continued to pray to God every night. During that period in my life, I had little time to think about much beyond the pragmatic. I was determined to be the first in my family to go to college, and that determination increased even more when I was diagnosed with a serious chronic illness, also at age 17.

This worked for me on a superficial level for quite a number of years. But being away from home meant freedom to think for myself, and to examine what I believed, and what I knew in my soul. Over the years, I tried various other types of Christian churches, but did not agree with the core beliefs and never felt as though my spirit was at home in any of them.

Finally, about two years ago, I decided that I wanted a community of faith in which I felt comfortable. Surely I couldn’t be the only person alive who shared my beliefs?

Several months later, the questions were still nagging at me. The questioning part wasn’t new; I’ve always been wired that way. But my probing had intensified. I was at an emotional and spiritual crossroad.

I went to the library and checked out books on every religion that I could think of, Western and non-Western. On a rainy cool Saturday afternoon, I sat down to read. Nothing was striking a chord with me until I picked up the book on Judaism (I believe that it was Judaism for Dummies or some other such basic primer). As I read, I began to get excited, as I realized that the beliefs that I have held for my whole life actually had a name! I returned the other books to the library and checked out more books on Judaism. The more I read, the more I knew that this was where I belonged. However, I was afraid. This was a huge paradigm shift for me. Would my family of origin disown me? Did the Jewish faith even fully accept converts?

I mulled this over for several more months, too afraid to do anything except read everything I could get my hands on about Judaism. Finally, I got up the courage to ask a trusted Jewish friend at work about Judaism’s view of conversion. This turned into an hour-long conversation, and this friend and her husband later helped to mentor me through this process of conversion, and have become my dearest friends and surrogate "Jewish family".

I believe that the coincidences in my life that have led me to this point were more guideposts than accidents. It was so refreshing to have some puzzling things makes sense, to not have to engage in mental gymnastics to reconcile notions of, for example, a loving merciful God and good people going to hell. I do not have to check either my intellectual or spiritual self at the door when I enter the synagogue.

 I come to Judaism because it reverberates with me in a way that really matters. I truly believe that I have a "Jewish soul" that was somehow born into a Gentile body. I often joke with friends that I converted half Sephardic and half Ashkenazic due to my dual Hispanic and eastern European heritage. I feel as though I am a part of the Jewish people. In essence, I do not feel that I "converted" to anything, but rather that I am, after a long journey, finally home.