Seeds of Belonging || Faith in Flux

I’ve always loved learning. No subject was safe from my curiosity—except math, which we can all agree is bogus. So, when the COVID-19 pandemic hit just as I began exploring Judaism, it didn’t deter me. If anything, it intensified my drive to study. With the world on pause, I dove headfirst into educational rabbit holes, chasing answers to questions I hadn’t yet realized I was asking.

Independent Study

At first, I kept my Jewish studies private. I have a history of diving deeply into hobbies, but this felt different. I didn’t want my interest in Judaism to be dismissed as another passing fascination, so I chose to study quietly. I also didn’t want to burden rabbis, especially during a global pandemic, when communities were already stretched thin.

So, I turned to books. I started with Choosing a Jewish Life by Anita Diamant, which outlines foundational aspects of conversion while offering insight into what the process looks like across various denominations. The more I read, the more excited—and intimidated—I became. Big questions still loomed about my beliefs and whether they aligned with modern Judaism.

I revisited The Sabbath by Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, a book I had previously encountered during my youth pastor’s ill-fated “Pray the gay away” program (read more about that in a previous post). This time, the book spoke to me on a deeper level. Its poetic exploration of time, rest, and holiness resonated deeply and inspired me to begin practicing what I thought might become my Jewish life.

I started small. On Friday nights, I invited friends over for makeshift Shabbat dinners featuring frozen pizza and Sprite Zero instead of challah and wine. I ordered Shabbat candles from Amazon and found an old pair of candlesticks in storage. To my surprise, my friends were supportive—and even curious—about what I was learning.

The simple act of lighting candles became sacred. Each flame felt like a small declaration of hope and renewal. I didn’t know all the prayers, but I created my own moments of stillness, reflection, and intention. For the first time in a long while, I felt connected—to something ancient, something enduring.

Finding Guidance

In October 2021, a friend and I decided to read Here All Along by Sarah Hurwitz together. The book was exactly what I needed to push me toward seeking out a rabbi. It explored the core values of Judaism beyond theism, helping me visualize myself as part of the Jewish community. Hurwitz’s reflections on community, justice, and identity clarified what had felt abstract during my independent study.

The moment I finished the book, I reached out to the rabbi of a Reconstructionist synagogue I’d been following online. Though the synagogue was an hour away, I’d fallen in love with its approach to Judaism through dialogue, social action, and tradition. Rabbi Jess agreed to meet with me over the phone.

During our hour-long conversation, I shared what had led me to this point. "This seems to be something that’s important to you," she said thoughtfully.

"Yes," I replied. "Very much."

Rabbi Jess explained that I’d missed the start of their current conversion cohort but offered to stay in touch and answer any questions while I explored other options. She encouraged me to find a synagogue closer to home that could better fit my schedule as a teacher. She also recommended an “Intro to Judaism” course as part of the conversion process, which excited me.

After our call, Rabbi Jess emailed me the syllabus for her conversion class. I immediately began compiling notes and creating book lists, determined not to let this setback slow me down. Following her syllabus became my personal study guide as I searched for a nearby synagogue to sponsor my conversion.

The next few months were a whirlwind of learning. I studied Jewish history, ethics, and holiday observances with the same fervor I’d once reserved for college finals. Every new insight felt like unlocking a hidden door. I found comfort in Judaism’s embrace of questioning and debate—it felt like coming home to a way of thinking I hadn’t realized I’d been searching for.

Though I still had moments of doubt and imposter syndrome, I reminded myself that Judaism values the journey as much as the destination. It’s a tradition built on stories of wandering and becoming. And for the first time in my life, I felt like I was on the right path.