Halachic and Social Challenges in the Orthodox Community: The Case of Converts
A number of years ago, when I was studying at YU, my wife and I encountered a new face at a Shabbat kiddush, a frum young woman new to the community where we then lived. After a few weeks, we invited her to a Shabbat meal at our home to get to know her better.
As the meal progressed, she began to share some of her experiences as a gioret, a convert to Judaism. She understood how important it was for her not only to be knowledgeable about Torah and to observe the mitzvot precisely, but to integrate herself socially into the Jewish people, as well. In keeping with that idea, she had intentionally sought out a job at a business owned by observant Jews. Much to her surprise, however, she found herself harshly mistreated both personally and professionally, and she finally left. She also told us how difficult it had been for her to find frum friends in general, and to meet marriageable men for shidduchim in particular.
Summing it up, she said that in all honesty, it had been much easier for her to find respect and acceptance as an observant Jew at work, among her non-Jewish coworkers, than among her fellow Jews. She said that she did not regret her conversion; her love of Hashem and His Torah was as strong as ever. However, she just wished someone had warned her – before her conversion – of the difficulties she might face afterwards as a convert.
As she detailed all of this for us, her emotions were so strong that she sobbed at several points, only to regain her composure and continue the conversation. We all recited birkat hamazon, and she left. The unexpectedly intense Shabbat table conversation left a powerful impression on me.
Even though I knew that some converts encounter few or no difficulties integrating into the Jewish people, I also knew our new friend was not alone in her experience. In a subsequent conversation, a rabbi active in the area of conversion told me that he always informs prospective converts about the difficulties they may face after conversion, precisely to reduce the bruised feelings that may arise for that person later.
Today’s Orthodox world has many wonderful strengths. Its strong sense of community is one of those strengths. Our vibrant, communal style of living contrasts strongly and favorably with the prevailing loneliness and individualism of the broader American society in which live.
However, like all communities of people, ours is one with its troubles, as well. In some communities, for example, it can be difficult for newcomers to find their way socially. In others, it can be difficult for others to find their way spiritually.
One group which sometimes has unique challenges is converts.
In Shemot (23:9), Hashem commands us: ve’ger lo tilchatz, ve’atem ye’datem et nefesh ha’ger ki gerim heyitem be’eretz Mitzrayim – Do not oppress a ger; for you know the feelings of a ger, for you were gerim in the land of Egypt. The simple translation of ger in this context is ‘stranger’ or, perhaps, ‘resident alien.’ Mistreatment of strangers is a basic element of human nature throughout the entire world. (Anyone, for example, who has visited another shul and gotten an earful for sitting in “my seat” can easily attest to that!) Here, the Torah acknowledges that aspect of human nature but forbids us to succumb to it by oppressing others who are strangers.
In Vayikra (16:23-24) and elsewhere, the Torah goes even further, instructing us to proactively overcome basic human nature with the mitzvah of ahavat ha’ger, to love the stranger and alien: ve’ahavta lo kamocha, ki geirim he’yitem be’eretz Mitzrayim – You must love him [the ger] as yourself, for you were gerim in the land of Egypt. The language of that verse echoes a more familiar one that appears a few lines before it: ve’ahavta le’re’acha komocha – You must love your neighbor [your fellow Jew] as yourself.
Chazal, however, understood ger to refer specifically to converts to Judaism. Indeed, the Torah directs our people always to be willing to embrace qualified converts into our midst. Based upon the many repetitions of this command in the Chumash, the Talmud (Baba Metzia 59b) rules that when we mistreat a convert such people, we violate up to 36 or 46 separate injunctions of the Torah.
By linking these mitzvot to our nation’s formative experience in Egypt, the Torah is emphasizing that a central purpose of that suffering and enslavement was to make us sensitive to others who are different from us, as a nation and as individuals, particularly in the case of converts.
Why, then, the gap between the clarity and centrality of this repeated Divine command and the reality experienced by our Shabbat guest and others like her?
Tosafot provide a critical insight into this question. The Talmud quotes Rabbi Chelbo who states that converts are “difficult” for the Jewish people. The question before Tosafot is – why? One answer suggests that converts are sloppy in their fulfillment of the mitzvot and provide a poor model for other Jews. Another answer suggests just the opposite; namely, that their heightened zeal and punctiliousness in the fulfillment of the mitzvoth prompts Hashem to judge born Jews less favorably for their sins1.
However, yet another answer of Tosafot pertains to our puzzle. Converts, Tosafot writes, pose a difficulty for the Jewish people because “Hakadosh Baruch Hu has prohibited us from oppressing or hurting them” so many times and yet “ee-efshar she’lo yitza’arum” – it is impossible for Jews not to cause them anguish anyway.
Why is it impossible? Do Tosafot imagine that here, somehow, we have no free will? Surely not! This argument is neither theological nor halachic; it is a sociological truth. Why, then, is it true?
There are, no doubt, many reasons.
On the one hand, converts are individuals undergoing continuing personal transformation. Like other such individuals in transition, some are no doubt unusually sensitive to even mild mistreatment, particularly by Jews, people whose human acceptance and embrace they desire.
At the same time, it is probably true that some Jews succumb to their human nature and may express the xenophobic attitudes that come naturally to them. Other Jews may be unusually insensitive individuals, or may simply be unaware of the effect of their words or actions. Yet others may not think of the tremendous courage and conviction this person has shown by converting and then fail to show this person the respect and awe he or she deserves. Instead, they may see the convert as a reminder of all the non-Jews who have oppressed our people during our long history (or even them personally), projecting their anger about those non-Jews, historical or contemporary, on the innocent Jew standing before them. No doubt there are other reasons, as well.
Regardless of how one understands the matter, however, the Torah’s unambiguous, repeated command remains before us. As individuals and as a community, may we rise to the challenge of fulfilling it.
1 Gemara and Tosafot, Kiddushin 70b and elsewhere. The need to explain the “difficulty” of converts posited by Rabbi Chelbo precludes the possibility of Tosafot’s noting the opposite scenario: the heightened zeal of yet other converts may inspire other Jews to improve themselves. Regardless, however, each of these conflicting assessments of converts is no doubt true. Indeed, the observance level of yet other converts will no doubt correspond to that of the Jewish people as a whole. Converts are not a monolithic group and their degree of observance and influence on others will vary.
Rabbis are supposed to set an example for the entire community to follow. Perhaps if our community leaders showed more kindness and compassion in their treatment of converts, the rest of the Orthodox community would follow.
In reflecting on this, I think that a large part of my good fortune is that my preparation for gerut and the gerut itself occurred in Boston, a rather diverse community in itself, but perhaps an equally important one outside Metropolitan New York.
For the last 25 or so years, I have lived in Teaneck NJ, which also seems to be rather diverse and very accepting.
My background caused neither me nor my children problems with shidduchim and marriages.
I do know of 2 situations in which black converts were discouraged in terms of shidduchim by a prominent YU Rosh Yeshiva. In one case, the person made aliyah and married in Israel. In the second, and more recent, the person met the child of one of my old friends from Boston, and they are now engaged.
Most of my wife's extended family is Charedi (about half Sephardi and half Ashkenazi), and without question they have been warm, accepting, and supportive.
I don't think that the issue is one of Charedi or Modern per se, I think it's a question of whether and to what extent one follows the Torah or has been corrupted by American Gentile biases.
Ziporrah raises an interesting issue. Perhaps unlike many who have considered conversion, I always had direct relations only with Orthodox institutions and communities. Thus I was always in the midst of those who were quite observant themselves, and tended to see me as validating their struggles. (The fact that I was a philosophy major at a prestigious Ivy League school probably didn't hurt in that regard. But I repented for the Ivy League-my ordination is from a genuine Brooklyn Kollel.)
But I did meet some Conservative converts, and they told me at that time (early 1970's) stories very similar to Zipporah's.
Perhaps more to the point, I have always found people not committed to full observance to be uncomfortable with me and my level of observance, usually directly proportional to the extent of their departure from full observance.
Obviously, as I mentioned in my first message, there are Orthodox people who are distinctly "un-Orthodox" in terms of the American biases and prejudices that they have absorbed, but at least they tend to feel guilty about it, and to know that they are violating Torah principles and specific Halakhot (or temporarily accepting deviation from them).
Incidentally, although I am quite "Lithuanian" in temperament and personal practice, I should point out that there are several converts that I know (including "non-whites" of various types) who are members of different Chassidic communities (Chabad, Vishnitz, Belz) and are quite happy with their welcome there. So it's not necessarily true that those Orthodox communities who are more "folk-oriented" are more closed to converts.
We should realize that Torah and mitzvot liberate, whereas departures from Torah and mitzvot enslave oneself and others-a good point to bear in mind during this season when we start the journey from the physical liberation of Passover to the spiritual liberation of Shavuot.
As Zipporah found, it seems to me that many view me as too far to the "Orthodox" side of Torah. My shul is "Traditional," yet of the just under two hundred families, I would guess that less than ten are frum. As a single, middle-aged man, convincing people to adopt a kosher lifestyle has been implausible. Finding commitment in this seems to be my largest complaint.
On the social scale, I have always been treated with respect and invited to many private gatherings as well as to shul functions. It is not possible for me to recall any slight of the type presented in the essay.
As Rabbi Frazer spoke of above, I find more acceptance from the more Orthodox members of our shul. This, I suppose comes from an adherence to Torah values and a recognition that all Jews, born or converted, are precious to Hashem and that persecuting them in any way brings negative consequences.
In my period of study prior to conversion, I certainly was not encouraged to continue, yet many gave me the resources to do so. I received material from Moznaim Publishing, Agaduth Israel of America, and from members of the Shul. The Rabbi who mentored me through the process was very attentive to my needs. There are many who have suffered from indifference, or even hostility during their conversion process, but by Hashem's grace, I was not one.
May we all be blessed throughout the coming days with light and peace.
Additionally, I would caution against heavy criticism of Batei Din and their processes. The decisions we make about people's lives is a very heavy responsibility. And sometimes we feel, even at the end of the process, that something is just not right - this conversion is just not the right thing to do. We sometimes agonize, knowing information that others do not, knowing that if we reject this person we will be inundated with calls urging us to accept the person - and we cannot divulge confidential information - and so we take the criticism on the chin, but still confident that the decision to reject the person was the right thing to do. Criticism is justified if it is accurate and informed, but all too often it is not fully informed.
I will conclude with a positive - the experience of being involved with so many converts is one of the greatest joys of my Rabbinate. Seeing the people on committees, school leadership, their kids achieving in yeshivas, and knowing the profound impact that they are making on our Jewish world is very gratifying.
Please do not associate a person who is a thief and attends a shul with Torah. This refers specifically to people who are stealing from somebody else's honour.
And please forgive me for unsolicited advise: go orthodox conversion for this is the right place to go and will save you and your family from unpleasant surprises. Personally, I had better experiences with religious goim than with non-frum jews.