I am a Jew by choice. In the next few paragraphs I will describe how this came to be. I was raised in a faith shared by all ofmy known central European ancestors. But over the course of my childhood and adolescence, I developed serious doubts and questions about the beliefs and practices of my family’s religion. By the time I reached college, I could no longer practice this religion. It wasn’t easy letting go-- I had uncertainties, guilt and occasional relapses. But the distancing was eased by my interest in a scientific education. Reason and logic made sense, and beliefs based on faith alone became more and more untenable. By the time I finished my medical training, I had left organized religion behind. Given the difficulty I had shedding my childhood religion, I was not anxious to take up another one.
But questions of a spiritual nature remained. Logic and reason are powerful tools, but they cannot answer these questions, at least not satisfactorily. So while I was not practicing a religion, I still contemplated spiritual matters.
In 2006, my heretofore equally religion-free spouse Gina announced she was going to start attending services at Temple B’nai Israel. I was somewhat surprised, and my initial reaction was lukewarm. I do remember saying something to her like: “Well, that’s fine, but don’t expect me to be coming along”. She started attending Friday evening Shabbat services, and sometimes Saturday morning services. She took the basic Judaism course and read a lot. She and I would talk about what she had learned (well, she talked, and I listened politely). In this way, I was introduced to some basic precepts and beliefs in reform Judaism. When Gina decided to convert, I wasn’t surprised. By then, she had lured me on occasion to Friday evening Shabbat—usually when there was a dinner afterwards. I was utterly confused by the service at first, and did not appreciate its messages early on. Gina introduced me to her friends at Temple B’nai Israel, and I was struck by how warm and welcoming they were. At this point, my participation was largely based on spousal harmony—Judaism was important to Gina, so I was going to be supportive. I did not yet feel any real affinity for the faith. Over the following l years, I attended Shabbat services with Gina. I attended services during the high holidays. I went to my first Passover Seder. I participated in educational and social functions at the temple. I helped out when I could.
During this same time period, Gina and I had both started researching our respective ancestries. For my part, I was simply curious about my family’s origins. As part of this process, one can now do DNA testing. For men, this canreveal a limited amount of information about ones paternal heritage. In 2010, I decided to do this, expecting that my paternal ancestry would be central or eastern European. I was puzzled when I received the results—my ancestry was linked to individuals with names like Perlman, Cohn, and Goldstein. The report showed a symbol depicting two hands raised in blessing, with the fingers spread in an unfamiliar way. Below this, I saw the words “Cohen Match”. At first, I didn’t know what this meant. After reading the fine print, I learned that I possess a set of gene markers called the Cohen Modal haplotype. This set of genes is carried by a large proportion of Jewish men who self identify themselves as Kohanim, or descendants of Aaron.
I hasten to add here that, by themselves, these results are also found in individuals who are not Jewish. It does not make one a Cohen. It does not make one “genetically” Jewish. Initially, I was skeptical that these results indicated I had some Jewish ancestry. I had never been told of any Jewish heritage in my family. I did find it interesting that my family surname coincidentally started with the same ”KO” sound associated with many variants of “Cohen”. But within months, a few more surprises came up. I found the surname “Kokes” was listed in the congregation rolls of the Prague Synagogue in the 1600’s. I also learned that one of my father’s sisters had taken a trip back to the ancestral villages in Czechoslovakia some years ago, and returned home thinking, for undisclosed reasons, that the Kokes family had been Jewish. These villages happened to be close to Prague. On the basis of these findings, I came to believe my paternal lineage had been Jewish.
Although my logical mind understood this, I was not initially interested in conversion. But things change. I took the basic Judaism class. Slowly and gradually, I came to understand the structure and rhythms of Shabbat services. The prayers started to become more familiar. Most importantly, I started to actually process what I was hearing. I heard amessage that stressed positive aspects of human existence such as kindness and charity. I came to understand the key concept of TikkunOlam, and its role in reform Judaism. I found value in readings from the Torah. I came to appreciate Shabbat, and the peace it would bring to me after a particularly stressful week. I better understood the Jewish concept of God, and somewhat to my surprise, realized that it was a belief I could hold. I participated in Jewish holidays. Iwent to Israel, and said prayers at the western wall. I started learning Hebrew. I came to appreciate that Judaism could provide answers for spiritual questions which I had long considered.
But I still wasn’t quite ready to make a commitment. The decision moment finally came last fall, almost a year ago. For the preceding 18 months, I had watched Gina prepare for her Bat Mitzvah. Her dedication to the learning process was inspiring. On the day of her Bat Mitzvah, I was so proud of what she had accomplished in spite of the intellectual challenges and physical pain from a bad hip. Shortly afterwards, I decided if she was that committed to being Jewish, then she deserved a Jewish husband.
The rest is almost anticlimactic. I discussed conversion with Rabbi Block a few weeks later. He reviewed my Jewish education and experiences, and opined that I could join that year’s conversion class. This spring, I stood on the Bimah, recited the Shema, and officially became a Jew by choice. I consider my conversion was only a marker on life’s journey. Istill have so much to learn.
I used to think that things did not happen for a reason. That life is a series of random, unrelated events that simply play out by chance. I’m not so sure now. How coincidental that my wife would decide to live a Jewish life and pull me along, despite my misgivings about religion. How strange that after having been exposed to Judaism for only a few years, that I would get back test results suggesting Jewish ancestry. How weird, while attending an extended family reunion, that a cousin would make an offhand comment about Jewish ancestry stemming from my aunt’s Czechoslovakia trip.
I’ll conclude with one last interesting coincidence. My Hebrew name is Aaron ben Abraham. I chose Aaron to honor myunknown paternal Jewish ancestors. Some weeks ago, when studying Hebrew, my mind wandered. I had my cheat sheet which showed letters in block and script form. I hadn’t ever looked too much at the script letters; I wondered what “Aaron” would look like in Hebrew script. I stopped after the first letter. The script form of the Aleph combines the appearance of a “C” and a “K”. The script Aleph thus combines the initials of my given name, and the first initial of my Hebrew name.
I am Jewish by choice—but I do not think the choice was totally mine.