Navigating Dual Allegiances: Converting to Judaism, Wrestling With Israel

Part 1

Data on the actual number of people who convert to Judaism in the United States is difficult to find, as there are no official records among the major denominations of those who have undergone the process of choosing Judaism. Rabbi Rick Jacobs, head of the Reform movement, the largest stream of Judaism in the US, told the Forward he’s “absolutely” noticed more interest, adding that about 3,000 people a year take its introduction to Judaism course. Even in my own community, I have noticed an uptick in the number of people choosing to convert to Judaism.

Over the past twenty-five years, I have made a career out of teaching Judaism. Whether in the classroom or at summer camp, teaching is something I am passionate about. My career has always orbited around people who were born Jewish; in other words, most of my students chose Judaism, it just happened to them. I am not claiming that people born into the tribe do not embrace and love their Judaism. For these fortunate few, Judaism is a gift, but a gift they did not choose.

I have sat in on a number of Beit Din over the years, and one candidate has stayed with me. I’ll call him Andy, a composite drawn from conversations I’ve had with several converts wrestling with the same question. Andy was in his twenties, working a job with no connection to Jewish life, and had completed the conversion program. He was at the final step in his dream of becoming part of the Jewish people, and understandably nervous.

One of the standard questions that I hear from members of the Beit Din is for the individual to acknowledge that with the acceptance of Judaism in their lives, they are also accepting all of the difficulties that come with being Jewish, such as antisemitism and anti-Israel rhetoric. That afternoon, I was surprised to hear Andy explain that he was having a difficult time accepting Israel as a symbol of Jewish perseverance and independence. Like a lot of people his age, he had spent time in circles where Israel was discussed mainly in the language of “oppressor” and “colonizer,” and he could not yet bring himself to see Israel as anything other than a nation bringing atrocities on Gaza.

My first instinct was that anyone who accepts Judaism into their life should automatically include Israel (both as a symbol and a physical place) in that acceptance. Now, listening to Andy talk about how central Judaism had become to his life, I was stunned that there could be a relationship with Judaism that did not include Israel.

I found myself wondering whether these two concepts were in direct conflict with one another, or if there was a way to align choosing Judaism without choosing Israel. Can the idea of adopting Judaism exist without the symbol of Israel as a Jewish Homeland? The ties between Israel and the Jewish people may have their roots in Biblical times, but in the last 200 years, the connection has become one of security and safety.

In his book, Loving the Real Israel, Alex Sinclair writes “To present an image of Israel as perfect and without flaws — to deny, by omission, any of the problematic elements of Israeli society — is to set up a false dichotomy — an either-or-choice — that can only work against Israel in the long run.”

The US Holocaust Memorial Museum defines antisemitism as “prejudice against or hatred of Jews.” The modern state of Israel was born out of necessity, a place for the world’s displaced and unwanted Jews. Israel was supposed to be the answer to the world’s question of what to do with the Jewish people.

Part 2

Historically, the Jewish people have been persecuted as the “other,” a scapegoat on which to blame all the world’s problems. While the recounting of these horrible acts against Jews does not need to appear in this writing, the results were mostly the same. The Jewish people were forced to leave their homes, abandon their friends and occupations, and search for another place where they could feel welcome. The Jewish people have, throughout their history, been a nation without a home.

In 1290, the Jewish people were expelled from England under the rule of Edward I, only to be seen again 200 years later. In the 14th century, the Jewish people were exiled from France and would not return for 400 years. And finally, between 1492 and 1497 in Spain and Portugal, an estimated 40,000 to 150,000 Jews were forced to leave. From country to country, the Jewish people were forced to leave only because they were different. These collective memories are present in every terror attack on the Jewish people, in every time we say “never again,” and in every joke about Jewish holidays, all being “they tried to kill us, let’s eat.”

Beginning in the 19th century, the antisemitism that was prevalent across Europe ultimately led to five waves of Aliyah (immigration to Palestine/Israel). Between 1882 and 1939, an estimated 450,000 Jews left their homes in Europe to make a new life in the land of Israel.

In his book, The Jewish State, Theodore Herzl writes: “We are a people — one people. We have sincerely tried everywhere to merge with the national communities in which we live, seeking only to preserve the faith of our fathers. It is not permitted us… In our native lands where we have lived for centuries we are still decried as aliens… Oppression and persecution cannot exterminate us. No nation on earth has endured such struggles and sufferings as we have.”

The atrocities of the Holocaust cemented the global view that Herzl was right: the Jewish people would never be welcome in any other place but a dedicated Jewish homeland.

Finally, on May 14, 1948, after centuries of persecution and exile, the Jewish people around the world heard the words of Israel’s Declaration of Independence, “The Land of Israel was the birthplace of the Jewish people. Here their spiritual, religious and political identity was shaped… The catastrophe which recently befell the Jewish people — the massacre of millions of Jews in Europe — was another clear demonstration of the urgency of solving the problem of its homelessness by re-establishing in Eretz-Israel the Jewish State, which would open the gates of the homeland wide to every Jew… hereby declare the establishment of a Jewish state in Eretz-Israel, to be known as The State of Israel.”

Herzl’s realization that a Jewish state could only take shape in the land the world knew as Palestine, the traditional homeland of the Jewish people, had become a reality. David Ben-Gurion’s words made clear that the State of Israel was the answer to persecution and exile.

Unfortunately, this level of antisemitism is not reserved for our ancestors in Russia, France, or England. It continues today through examples of Jew-hatred and prejudice like the “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, and the shooting at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. We find it across our social media accounts, our schools, and in our government.

Part 3

As someone who was born Jewish, I have chosen to live a Jewish life, and even if I did not live a “Jewish life,” I would still be Jewish. I will never know what it means to look at Judaism from the outside and decide that I want in, and I will constantly remain in awe of those who do.

Every Shavuot, we read the book of Ruth, and we hear the familiar line from Ruth to Naomi: “Wherever you go, I will go… your people will be my people” (Ruth 1:16). Rashi tells us that there is more to this interaction than a simple plea from a daughter-in-law to her new mother. Rashi believes this is pointed out to show all the negative aspects of the faith Ruth was choosing, to talk her out of it. When she replies that “I will go where you go,” perhaps it is in reply to being told that there are restrictions on how far she can walk freely on Shabbat; or when she says “your people will be my people,” it may be a response to being told about the mitzvot. However you view the story or its lessons, the point remains that in order to embrace Judaism as a chooser, you must be ready to accept all of Judaism, the good and the bad.

Israel has been seen as both a symbol of Jewish resilience and a symbol of controversy. As established above, the State of Israel is a result of centuries of antisemitism and the Jewish people not having a safe place to be Jewish. It is not only a homeland for the Jewish people but also a symbol of collective resilience. It is a country that was born out of the Jewish narrative of overcoming persecution, and from her very beginning, Israel has been a beacon of salvation for Jews looking for a safe space.

This rich history and symbolism make modern criticisms of Israel so troubling. Israel has a public relations issue, one that has been around for decades. For every counterstrike or preemptive strike, you can almost guarantee that there is a picture or video of a hospital in flames or a bombed-out schoolhouse. In Andy’s case, he had fallen in love with the traditions and customs of Judaism and could not, or would not, yet embrace the clear tie between Judaism and Israel.

Andy’s struggle is a common one and, in any other circumstance, may have been applauded as not just paying lip service to something he could not understand yet. Struggle and questioning are part of growth, and anyone seeking a relationship with Israel should have the opportunity to do so. Andy was asking the right questions, and I hope he finds his way to a connection with Israel. His concerns were rooted in morality and confusion, and, in my opinion, the values he was seeking have already been demonstrated time and time again.

Judaism has a long and rich history of caring for the “other.” We are repeatedly told not to forget that we were once “the other” in Egypt. The value of caring for those in need is also ingrained in the State of Israel.

The Israeli Declaration of Independence puts forth that the State of Israel “will foster the development of the country for the benefit of all its inhabitants; it will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel; it will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex.”

Whether through advancements in technology, humanitarian aid, disaster relief, or bringing people from underserved countries for life-saving medical treatment, Israel has valued the safety of others. Even performing life-saving brain surgery, in 2004, on a Hamas prisoner named Yahya Sinwar, who would go on to mastermind the October 7, 2023 attacks.

The suffering of the Gazan people under the rule of Hamas is horrifying and needs to be acknowledged. Nevertheless, the State of Israel has a right and a responsibility to keep its inhabitants, regardless of race or religion, safe.

Andy went through the remainder of the ceremony that day knowing he would be Jewish, and he was clearly very proud of it. Andy has committed himself to leading a Jewish life and is doing just that. The goal is not for Andy to love Israel the way that I do, but to understand that wrestling with Israel is in itself a deeply Jewish experience.

I am grateful to Andy for raising the question of whether one can embrace Judaism without including Israel as well. The answer is not simple; like the State of Israel itself, it is nuanced and messy, but the journey is as important as the destination.

One of the many problems Israel faces is the binary thinking of “Israel equals oppressor,” or the assumption that choosing Judaism means blind acceptance of Israel at every level. Neither thought is sufficient. The question becomes: how do we share the idea that sitting with this tension, and holding space for acceptance, is itself a Jewish act? It is through sitting with converts like Andy and navigating these tensions together that we accomplish this sacred work of helping new Jews find their own connection with Israel.