Beit Din || Faith in Flux

Imagine you’re the new kid at school, eating lunch alone for weeks, when suddenly the Populars™ invite you to sit with them. They want to talk and determine if you truly belong. If they say yes, congratulations—you’re in. If they say no, you’re stuck as an outsider forever. Dramatic? Yes. But this is kind of what the Beit Din feels like to many conversion candidates! When I began moving closer to my affirmation, I knew a Beit Din was coming. The thought alone made my palms sweat. How could I prepare for this pivotal moment while limiting the anxiety that often comes with it? Let’s start by understanding what a Beit Din actually is.

In its most basic form, a Beit Din is a council of three rabbis (or Jewish leaders) who meet with a conversion candidate to determine readiness for conversion. The phrase literally translates to “house of judgment,” which admittedly doesn’t do much to ease the nerves. Standing before three strangers to be “judged” on your spiritual identity can feel daunting, even terrifying. Yet, despite the intimidating name, many converts report positive, even affirming experiences. Traditionally, the Beit Din asks questions about the candidate’s spiritual history, Jewish practice, and commitment, using these insights to decide whether the individual is ready to formally join the Jewish people.

My first introduction to the concept of a Beit Din came from Anita Diamant’s Choosing a Jewish Life. Although the author’s intention was to educate and reassure, I found myself more intimidated than informed. The list of potential questions provided a glimpse into what to expect but also amplified my fear. What if the answer was no? What if I wasn’t “Jewish enough” to pass? Despite these fears, there was something deeply appealing about being affirmed by three respected Jewish leaders. Validation has always been a personal struggle of mine, so the idea of earning it through this ritual became both a source of anxiety and a motivating force.

For a long time, I assumed my Beit Din would follow the traditional format—three strangers seated behind a table, asking me questions about my Jewish journey. I pictured myself standing there, nervous and vulnerable, defending my identity. But this rigid vision shifted in late 2023 when I began meeting with a Reform rabbi.

“Who would you like to be there?” he asked casually during one of our meetings. The question floored me. I hadn’t realized I had any say in the matter! Up until then, I’d assumed the Beit Din would be chosen for me. This revelation gave me a new sense of agency. My mind immediately went to Rabbi Jess, the first rabbi I’d ever spoken to at Kehillah Synagogue. I also thought my current rabbi would naturally take one of the seats. But who would take the third seat? This question lingered unanswered for nearly a year.

Fast forward to my time in Judaism Unbound’s Here to Ger class, where this question came up again but in an even broader context. Not only could I choose who would sit on my Beit Din, but I could also shape the entire experience. The traditional format wasn’t a requirement—I could adapt it to fit my needs and preferences. This was a game-changer.

Many people cringe at the thought of a Beit Din because it feels akin to defending a dissertation. While traditional Beit Dins aren’t quite that formal, I decided to lean into the “defense” concept. I wanted the experience to be challenging, something that pushed me to articulate my beliefs and defend my identity. At the same time, I envisioned a conversational tone, one where the affirmation I sought would come not only in the final “yes” but also in the mutual understanding and connection built throughout the process. With this vision in mind, the ritual began to take shape—all except for one critical detail: the elusive third seat.

As my affirmation date approached, I had most of the pieces in place. My two sponsoring rabbis (one Reform, one Renewal) were confirmed. Unfortunately, Rabbi Jess was unavailable, so I had to let go of the idea of including her as a representative of my Jewish past. The third seat remained vacant. We had a backup plan, but I wanted this final seat to carry as much meaning as the others.

Inspiration struck as I was reading Judaism Disrupted by Rabbi Michael Strassfeld. His insights on the evolution and future of Judaism had profoundly influenced my journey. I had already sent him a fan letter thanking him for his work, so… why not ask him to join my Beit Din? It felt like a long shot, but I drafted an email anyway, nervously rereading it a dozen times before hitting send. To my amazement, he responded within a day, agreeing to participate. I was overjoyed.

The day of my Beit Din arrived amidst the chaos of preparing for my Bar-B-Q Mitzvah (my take on a bar mitzvah, held the following day). The Beit Din was scheduled on Zoom from 4 to 5 p.m., just before Shabbat. As I waited to be let into the virtual room, excitement and nerves bubbled within me. When the meeting began, I was greeted by three warm and welcoming faces. I had sent each of them a personal essay outlining my spiritual history (a condensed version of this blog series), which became the foundation for our discussion.

The questions were thoughtful and engaging, aligning with the themes of my essay. I spoke more than I expected to, sharing stories, values, and hopes for my future as a Jew. The hour flew by, and before I knew it, the Beit Din had reached its decision: I was affirmed as a Jew. The words they shared with me at the end were deeply validating. They told me I was enough—a statement that resonated on a level I hadn’t anticipated.

Looking back, what made the experience so meaningful wasn’t just the final “yes.” It was the process itself—the opportunity to reflect, articulate, and connect with three individuals I deeply respected. My Beit Din wasn’t the intimidating trial I had once imagined. Instead, it was a transformative moment of affirmation, one that marked the culmination of years of exploration, growth, and self-discovery.

But of course, this was only the beginning. The next day, I would host my Bar-B-Q Mitzvah (don’t worry, no pork!) and perform three additional rituals in front of my loved ones. As RuPaul says: “Don’t fuck it up.”

Stay tuned.