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Shap Journal 2001/2002
Living Community
Joining a Religious Community
Deirdre Burke
Why did you decide to become a Jew? This
is probably the most frequent question
that I have encountered in the past
fifteen years, from Jews and non-Jews.
Jews usually ask 'don't you have enough problems
already?' It is also the most difficult question that I have
had to answer. My immediate response is always to say
'I converted because it felt right'. But no one is ever
satisfied with such an answer.
Part of the answer must lie in my interest in Jewish
religious and ethical writings. I find the focus on living
a better life a refreshing change to debates about what
you should believe. Religion plays an important role by
guiding and reminding of duties and requirements. In
this respect I find the concern with living a better life
important. We all need reminders of values and how we
should behave - and there are a number of occasions
during the year when the synagogue liturgy causes me
to reflect on my life and my relationships with others.
This focus on inter-personal relationships - particularly
with those you are in conflict with - is perhaps the most
challenging. I must admit that I still have problems with
the reflection during silent reading each Shabbat which
includes 'Even when others curse me, may my soul be
silent, and humble as the dust to all.' Being silent and
humble while others curse me is not in my nature! But
perhaps the most important thing for me is that I can
question and challenge all things, even inspirational
scripture, and such questioning is certainly in my nature!
Leaving a religious community and joining another is a
strange experience. Nowadays many people have very
loose ties with a religious community, and whilst it may
not be a major aspect of their lives it is always there in
the background for support at times of crisis. Taking the
decision to convert means that you cut the ties to such
support, and whilst the community you are leaving may
take you back, it feels as if you are burning your boats
and there is no going back. This may sound a strange
kind of logic, because surely if you want to convert it is
because you are not happy with the faith you are
currently finked to in some way. But it felt as if there was
something final in closing that door and leaving my
links to Catholicism behind me.
Thus, at the time of making the decision the past door
closes and you start to knock at the new door. However,
the process of conversion to any form of Judaism is a
long and complex one. I converted to progressive
Judaism which has the formal requirement of study
within the tradition before completing five essays on
various aspects of the faith. This ensures that converts
reflect on their past tradition and on the tradition they
wish to join - this element of study ensures that
converts know what they are letting themselves in for.
These essays are then considered by a Rabbinic Board
which examines your request to convert to Judaism.
Writing the essays was an interesting experience for one
who is usually on the other side of the table marking
essays, particularly in trying to assess the type of essay
required - and then suffering the anxiety of others
examining your research and your views. One of the
essays considered reasons for converting. The Rabbinic
Board consisted of three rabbis, one of whom had read
your work carefully and asked questions. I cannot really
remember much about the day apart from the fact that
I was on crutches due to a hockey injury.
This was followed by a formal ceremony which involved
the recitation of key prayers including the Sh'ma in
front of the open ark. This ceremony would normally
take place in front of the community you were joining,
but there was a slight complication in my case as we did
not have a rabbi at the synagogue in Birmingham. Thus,
I had to go to London and then received the honour of
reciting the blessing before the Torah reading in my
synagogue as a formal recognition of my conversion.
Judaism has a strange attitude towards converts. On the
one hand converts are to be welcomed and totally
integrated into the community, indeed tradition states
that one should not remind a convert of their former
status. Despite this some converts are known as such,
for example Hillel the Babylonian, who is famous for his
enigmatic saying: 'If I am not for myself, who will be;
and if I am only for myself, what am I; if not now,
when?' Also Onkelos, who is held accountable for the
laws concerning milk and meat in some circles. The
story states that when he came to translate 'Thou shalt
not seethe a kid in its mother's milk' he wrote 'Thou
shalt not mix meat and milk.'
However, external circumstances over the past two
thousand years have brought about a change in
attitudes to conversion. Whilst conversion was never to
be presented as an easy path - tradition holds that a
rabbi should always turn a prospective candidate away
at least twice, and if they make the request a third time
their sincerity is shown. However, the position of Jews in
Christian Europe was restricted for much of the past
fifteen hundred years, and the possibility of Christians
converting to Judaism was minimalised by restricted
contact between Jew and Christian, and often outlawed
by statute. Recent dialogue between Jews and Christians
has started to address many issues but ambiguity is still
evident. At a recent international conference on Jewish
Christian dialogue I met with others who had followed
the same path, and we all listened to a Dutch rabbi who
recounted the decision, he had taken with other rabbis
after the Holocaust, not to allow any requests by
Christians to convert to Judaism. What would have
happened if I had encountered such views, or indeed if
Hillel or Onkelos had!
What does it actually mean to be a member of a
religious community?
Firstly, there is a sense of solidarity which makes it
possible to respond to events in a more effective way
than an individual acting alone. Thus, a concerted effort
has been made by a community, itself made up of recent
immigrants to this country, to respond to the needs of
refugees in the Birmingham area.
Belonging to a community has a number of layers to it.
The immediate layer is the synagogue that I am a
member of and worship in. This links to the local Jewish
community with respect to social events and brings
together Progressive and Orthodox Jews who differ on
aspects of belief and practice. There is also an important
link to other Progressive synagogues, a monthly
newsletter informs of issues for the constituent
synagogues in the ULPS. But there is also a link to
Progressive Judaism in the wider world, particularly in
communities in Eastern Europe and Israel where
Progressive Judaism is a minority and in need of
support. On a visit to Prague I was able to visit the rich
Jewish heritage of the city. My synagogue now houses a
Czech scroll, one of 1,500* sefer torah catalogued under
Nazi orders for a museum of the annihilated Jewish
community, whilst the progressive community in Prague
do not have a full size scroll for services.
The final link is both a source of inspiration and
frustration - that is to the land of Israel. In the
nineteenth century, at a time when the possibility of a
Jewish state was so slight that very few ever envisaged it
becoming a reality, many progressive Jews sought to
reinterpret their existence in light of the country they
lived in. Thus, the move towards emancipation was seen
as more important than support for a return to a land
from the biblical past. However, early negativity towards
Zionism and the idea of a Jewish state was replaced by a
realisation that Israel as a spiritual centre was
important to all Jews. Thus, all synagogues would have
a link to Israel. This is primarily through festive
occasions such as Israel Independence Day (Yom
Ha'Atzmaut) and family links that congregants have to
Israel, through relatives who have made aliyah ('going
up', the same term is used for the honours on the bimah
during a synagogue service) to Israel.
*Birmingham Progressive community is about to leave the
building which has been its home for the past sixty years,
built in the late 1930s when synagogues were being
destroyed across Europe. The move to a new multi-purpose
building offers much optimism in recognition that times have
changed and that the relocation will maintain a progressive
Jewish presence in the midst of multi-faith Birmingham.