An American olah‘s long journey to state-recognized Jewish identity
Many people, throughout history, have converted to Judaism. Some have even converted twice, often to fulfill a more stringent set of Jewish legal requirements.
This year, Rebecca Strober may convert for the third time.
Strober lives in Jerusalem, working as a secretary for the Israeli Masorti movement–the Israeli equivalent of the United States’ Conservative movement. She made aliyah from Philadelphia three years ago and served in the Israeli army as a shooting instructor for new recruits until October of last year. She has considered herself Jewish for her entire life.
Born to a Jewish father and a non-Jewish mother, Strober faced no controversy over her Jewish identity at the Reform synagogue she attended growing up, as the Reform movement considers the child of a Jewish father to be Jewish. Strober felt Jewish as well.
“She didn’t come from an Orthodox household, but she certainly has identified as being Jewish since she was born,” said Martha Mowry, Strober’s mother.
When it comes to Israel, however, Jewish identity is not so simple. One need have only a single Jewish grandparent in order to gain automatic Israeli citizenship. Once inside the country, however, the Israeli government considers only children born of a Jewish mother to be Jewish. This is because the state arbiter of Jewish religious identity is the country’s Orthodox Chief Rabbinate—which oversees marriages, divorces, conversions and all other ritual ceremonies. Civil marriage and divorce do not exist in Israel. According to the state, Orthodox conversion is the only way for someone without a Jewish mother—like Strober—to become Jewish.
The First Conversion
Judaism has always been more of a cultural interest to Strober than a religious one. When she was younger, this manifested itself in large part through attendance at Jewish summer camp. At that time, Israel did not play a significant role in Strober’s Jewish life.
“I was kind of anti-Israel,” she said, noting that she was always quick to argue with supporters of the Jewish state.
But because she was bored, and because friends of hers had done similar, relatively affordable programs the year before (full disclosure: I am one of those friends), Strober decided to spend a semester in Israel during her junior year of high school on the Union for Reform Judaism’s Eisendrath International Exchange program.
While there, Strober immersed herself in the country’s history, especially enjoying classes where she and her friends would study an event and then travel to the site where it took place.
But when she returned, Strober began to worry about her religious identity. While she considered herself Jewish, she knew that some disagreed.
“To say, ‘My mom’s not Jewish, but I am Jewish’ is not a realistic solution,” Strober said. “Because at the same time, you want to be accepted. I had an identity crisis, you could say. So I looked for a solution.”
Her mother had always assumed that Strober would convert. “[Judaism] follows the mother’s line.” Mowry said. “And I’m not a line, if you know what I mean,”
During her senior year, Strober began to look into conversion options. After meeting with her local Orthodox rabbi, she decided that she felt most comfortable studying with Conservative rabbis, who initiated her into a nine-month conversion process of classes and one-on-one meetings. Because she had already acquired a significant base of Jewish knowledge, Strober’s conversion took less time than those of most other converts.
“Finally,” Strober said, “I converted in a halakhic way. Totally.
“And that was that for a while.”
The Second Conversion
After spending a year in Israel after high school on Young Judea’s Year Course, Strober decided to postpone college and made aliyah in 2008, joining the Israeli Defense Forces. But Strober realized that moving to Israel meant that she would have to convert again, this time under Orthodox auspices.
Because Israel permits religious marriages only, Strober would not have been able to have a Jewish wedding in the country without converting under the Rabbinate. And if she married outside of Israel, the state would not have considered her children Jewish.
While in the army, Strober found out about a military program called Nativ, originally created for immigrants from the Soviet Union, that would allow her to convert again—this time after only seven months.
But for Strober, enrolling in Nativ also meant, “admitting that my first conversion wasn’t good enough.” Even so, she entered the course and ended up enjoying it, making new friends, having interesting discussions with rabbis and learning more about her religion.
“And then,” she said, “I was Jewish again.”
The Third Conversion?
But Strober’s long journey toward state-recognized Jewish identity may not yet be over.
An Israeli court case, supported by Israel’s ultra-Orthodox parties, may render all Nativ conversions null because—according to some opinions—parts of the program are too lax in their adherence to halakha. If the court rules against Nativ, all of the program’s alumni will have to convert again in order for the state to consider them Jewish.
But regardless of what happens, Strober does not plan to become Jewish for a third time. She wants to move forward with her life—hoping to study anthropology at Hebrew University—and does not see how Nativ could be invalidated.
“My conversion was not only Orthodox, it was government-sponsored and looked over by three Orthodox rabbis,” she said. “Converting again would be telling an entire community that they’re bullshit.”
Judah Gross is a senior at the University of Maryland and the editor in chief of the Maryland Mitzpeh–the school’s Jewish newspaper. He is the New Voices contributing editor and owns a goldfish and a frog, which are named Jerry and Phil, respectively.
