Sure we have a minyan: ... 7, 8, 9 .. what? Oh....

There is a requirement to have 10 Jewish men who have attained maturity (ie, bar mitzvah) in order to be allowed to say certain prayers.  Everyone knows that, but too often we do not feel both the privilege and responsibility of that fact.

Our shul started in the home of  Rabbi Aryeh Rodin a bit more than 20 years ago; around September of 1987.  He started it by looking for at the zip code map and choosing the region that had the most Jews.  Then he moved into the neighborhood and starting knocking on doors with mezuzahs and asking them to attend an Orthodox minyan, maybe learn something more about Orthodox Judaism, etc.  The response was... well.... slow.  We moved into the neighborhood in the beginning of 1990.  By that time, Ohev Shalom ("Where Jews of All Backgrounds Feel At Home"), had taken up residence in a second floor storefront at the back of a small shopping center in the north part of Dallas (pretty much as far north as you could get and still be in Dallas).  We always had a minyan for Shabbos, but not always right at 9:00AM (the announced and all too often understood as "suggested" -- starting time).  Since I was (again, sigh...) not Jewish but was a potential (oh that hurt) proselyte, the smart thing to do would have been to wait till 9:30AM or so and then walk over.  That way, by the time I arrived there would already be a minyan and I could just slip unnoticed with the other late comers.

I, of course, am not smart about things like that that.  Instead, I would get there early so I could be dressed in my tallis, in my seat, and ready to pray.  That meant that the weekly schedule was:
8:50AM: Arrive at shul (sometimes first!)
9:00AM: Start davening
9:20AM -> 9:45AM or so: Wait and watch as minyan arrived one Jew at a time.

On good weeks we (well, they) would get a minyan before we needed to say the fist kaddish.  On other weeks we would have a parsha review/overview while waiting for a minyan to start krias haTorah.  Since the Jews were coming in one at at time, there would be some point there would be nine Jewish men and me.  (That's basically the mean value theorem for those of you like mathematical precision.  And for those of you who know what that means... yes, I know it is not quite right, but its close enough to be nerdy cute.)  Moreover, there were often guests, so at some point one of them would say, "We have a minyan."  And one of the regulars would say, "No, we don't."  "Sure we do: ...7, 8, 9... what?  Oh...."

There is statement in M'silas Y'sharim that has always struck me as particularly powerful:

kol inyanim ha'olam -- bein l'tov bein l'mutav -- nisyonos heim l'adam
  All matters of this world - whether good or for improvement - are trials for a person.

Being in the position of having to explain that I was not Jewish to everyone in the shul even once was certainly not comfortable; week after week was not pleasant at all.  (I should note that I "looked" very Jewish; full black beard and very comfortable in a shul.)  I would therefore put this in the "for improvement" category; especially when week after week turns into month after month.  When I see a pattern like this, I try to think what could be the particular lesson that I am supposed to take away from it.  (After I whine and sulk for an appropriate amount of time, of course.)  I would say there were two particular benefits.

The first benefit is that by being compelled to repeatedly to say (and think), "I am not Jewish", I was able to move that intellectual/philosophical fact into very real and strong belief.  The importance of having a strong resolve is beautifully expressed in Chovos haLevavos.  In the fifth chapter of the section on Avodas Elokim (service of G-d) is written as a dialog between the soul and the intellect.  The intellect asks the soul, "Are you firm in your understanding that you owe an unpayable debt to G-d; is it fixed in your mind that this is your aspiration?"  The soul responds, "Yes; but why do you ask?"  The intellect replies, "For without that resolve, you will not be able to endure the bitterness of the remedy."  In my case, the "remedy" was conversion.  It would have been all too easy to avoid the whole issue by driving over to the conservative (billed as "conservadox") synagogue just a little further from our house.  There were, after all, several families at the day school who attended that synagogue.  They would accept me as Jewish and we could have all enjoyed complaining about those dogmatic and backward orthodox.  But after the constant repetition  of my new mantra, "I am not Jewish", "I am not Jewish", "I am not Jewish"... I would never have been able to accept myself as Jewish.  I have many faults, but I strive to ensure that "fraud" is not among them.

The second benefit was experiencing first hand real loving kindness; a subtle kind that easily goes unnoticed, and causes the recipient no feelings of shame.  After a few months I noticed that occurrences of being one short of a minyan were getting fewer and further apart.  It took some time, but I finally noticed that when the eighth Jewish man walked in, either Rabbi Rodin or Ted Fishman (the shul president) would walk out.  As soon as the 10th Jew arrived, the two of them would walk in together.  It was all done very quietly and barely noticeable; but it saved me the constant embarrassment.  They never told me their plan and I suspect they didn't even talk it over with each other; they just did it.  Mi k'Amcha Yisrael.

Looking back on those few (seven, in total) months of my life, there was an interesting progression in how I viewed myself.  I started thinking of myself as Jewish with a conversion that was not acceptable to the Orthodox.  I originally went to the rabbi to convince him that I really only needed a "rubber stamp" to make my Jewishness acceptable.  In the ensuing months, I both delved into what it really meant to be Jewish and thoroughly eradicating any notion that I might actually be Jewish.  The net effect being that at the end of the day, once the conversion actually took place, I knew very well both what it meant to really be Jewish and that I really was Jewish.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it!

I have been talking a lot about the underlying outlook and philosophical changes that comes with moving toward an orthodox Jewish lifestyle, but actually "walking the talk" comes with its own challenges.  Moreover, there is a wide chasm between the path of a Jew who is moving toward more mitzvah observance and that of a (potential) convert.  A Jew who grew up in a non-religious home has plenty of good and real excuses for current his lack of observance.  Moving toward a more observant lifestyle should be executed with measured steps and is best done with rabbinic guidance.  Each new step is itself an accomplishment to be celebrated; there is no reason to move too quickly.  In fact, it is better to move slowly and steadily than to take on too much and back slide.

A goy who wants to convert, on the other hand, cannot take small steps.  It is all or nothing; if the aspiring convert "slips back", nothing is really lost since he had no obligation in the first place.  Of course the rabbi would have liked for me to convert because I am living with a Jewish woman and Jewish children, but there are a real issues with allowing a goy to convert if he is anything less that 100% committed..  First, a goy who eats a ham and cheese sandwich on Pesach or even Yom Kippur hasn't done anything wrong.  Once he is Jewish, however, those same actions are among the worst crimes he could commit against his own soul.  There is also a concern for the greater Jewish community.  Our Rabbis (yes... now that I am Jewish, they are my spiritual ancestors also) tell us that converts are very difficult on the Jewish people.  Rashi explains that since he did not grow up in a Jewish household he is likely to make mistakes and therefore other Jews will learn bad behavior from him.

[Aside: Yes; I know Jews who grew up in non-religious homes can also lead other Jews to make mistakes, but they are our family and need our help.  It is one thing to accept a wayward son back to your home and quite another to take a kid off the streets and bring him into your home.  I also know there are other explanations of that statement from our Rabbis.  The other explanations simply give more dimensions of the statement, they don't negate or even argue with Rashi.]

That means I (and my poor family) had to take very big steps.  Don't try this at home.

The first big three steps, as I mentioned before, were Shabbos, kashrus, and mikveh.  Kashrus was not so bad.  We told the rabbi that we'd like our house kosher enough that anyone would feel comfortable eating there.  He came over and explained about kashering the stove, counter tops, pots and pans, utensils, etc.  We also had to start only buying foods with a reliable hechsher; no more reading labels, no more non-kosher cheese and wine. Oh... and not eating out at restaurants.  We had been keeping kosher (conservative style) for some time, that that meant we could eat at nearly ay restaurant and simply order fish or vegetarian.  My vegetarian grandmother had more trouble eating out than we did because she wouldn't eat something that had been cooked on the same grill with meat.  Now, however, we couldn't eat out except at a kosher restaurant.  Dallas in those days had no kosher restaurants.  So we more or less "sucked it up" and accepted having these restrictions.  Not great, but not so bad.

Mikveh was a wee bit more sensitive.  My wife actually knew about this one from a Shabbaton that Chabad had conducted for her reform temple.  For whatever reason, the rebbitzin decided it would be great to tell these non-religious 12 year old girls about the beauty of taharas hamishpacha.  I have no clue what she was thinking, but they (my wife among them) were aghast.  My wife looked at the rabbi and said, "There will be times I can't hug my husband, right?"  "Well, yes."  "Then you may as well tell me to cut off my arm."  We Allens don't mince words.  The rabbi's wife (and other frum women) told my wife, "It will make that part of your relationship better."  Her reply to that was simply, "That part is just fine, thank you.  If it ain't broke, don't fix it!".  Honestly, I think the only really good argument, and the one that (eventually) carried the day was, "Its a mitzvah.  We don't understand it; it is one of those things we just have to do."  This was a major issue for months and months.  And months and months...

Shabbos was sort of midway between those.  We had been observing Shabbbos the way many people who observe the Conservative Jewish Religion.  We only drove to and from synagogue, we didn't go to work, and we lit candles and made kiddush.  What; there's more?  So we found out there is not driving at all, not using the telephone, not changing lights, not watching TV, not, not, not.  This did not make for a  happy household.  Plenty of grumbling (and worse),  but we did keep Shabbos; week after week of not, not, not.  After about three months, though, something truly amazing happened... we started looking forward to Shabbos!  It was not overnight (more precisely, overweek), but it was palpable.  We went from doing Shabbos because it was a Jewish thing to do, even though it is kind of boring at a bit of a pain, to... "Is it Shabbos yet??".  It was an amazing case of not realizing that things actually were broken and really needed fixing.  Had we not been forced, I don't know if we ever would have made that transition.

To be absolutely honest, I don't know if my relationship with my wife is better because of taharas hamishpacha.  I believe it is,  and I see lots of evidence that marriage is simply falling apart in the non-Orthodox world; but is that could be due to a lot of other factors (break down of the family, internet, general moral decay, etc).  I don't know that my life is better because of keeping strictly kosher.  It has, surprisingly, saved money on groceries.  The selection of ready made, frozen food is small and what is available is very expensive; so we buy mostly ingredients.  Even though the kosher ingredients are more expensive than the non-kosher counterparts, they are still cheaper by far than buying the non-kosher ready made.  As a bonus, our diet is lower in salt and fat; and much tastier!  So again, I can't say that keeping kosher has definitely improved my life; it certainly has not hurt and has been a contributing factor to a healthier lifestyle.

One thing I can I say with total confidence and conviction: Shabbos observance -- real, Orthodox, 100% Shabbos observance -- has absolutely improved my quality of life and the quality of life each each member of my family far beyond any possible expectation.  Every week we verbally express our longing for Shabbos; sometimes as early as Saturday night after havdala!  One of the 13 principles by which HaShem expects us to learn His Torah is that when the Torah teaches something about one item in a group, that concept is meant to be applied to the entire group.  Shabbos, kashrus, mikveh, and all the other mitzvos of the Torah were, so to speak, thrust upon me and my family; that's the group.  There is not a single one of us who can now imagine how anybody lives without Shabbos; that is what we have been taught about one item in the group.  I therefore must conclude that when all is said and done, all of the other mitzvos that we have had "thrust upon us" are just as vital and equally responsible for the amazing quality of life I and my entire family have merited and continue to merit to enjoy.

Sometimes even something that looks "ain't broke" really does need fixing, and we just need a little push.  For those of you who appreciate "inside" jokes, this is an example of "HaOseh doche lo sa'aseh"; hameivin yavin.

The Nuts and Bolts of Becoming Jewish

Just to recap: For years I had been living a much more "Jewish" lifestyle (kosher, Shabbos, and holidays, regular shul attendance) than any of my family or friends. I had embarrassed my dad at restaurants by asking to read the labels before eating the food. I had disrupted family outings because of Shabbos. I had modified vacation plans to work around the holidays. And now, after all that, I had just found out that I wasn't even Jewish. My friends and family, who had put up with my "idiosyncrasies" for years were dumbfounded. I was often the sole voice of Jewish observance, and now it turned out that I was also the sole goy. I think "irony" must be HaShem's middle name. While the irony was not lost on me, I wasn't really laughing at that point. And my friends and family just took it is (additional) proof that I was totally off my rocker on this subject. Their logic was simple (and oft repeated), "You act more Jewish than any of us, and your not Jewish?!?" My response was, "uh... well...". Obviously I needed a better response than that.

The next stage in my becoming Jewish, therefore, took the form of intense investigation into the philosophical underpinnings of orthodox Jewish thought and perspective. I do not mean to say that I gave no attention to observance -- after all, to successfully convert I needed to conduct myself in accordance with halachah (Jewish law). But it does not take much learning to know the basics of kashrus (keep dairy and meat separate, only buy kosher food, don't eat out) , Shabbos (don't turn lights on and off, don't drive, don't cook), and mikveh (basically, just don't). Our life was changing so much, that even those "few" things were almost (and sometimes more than almost) overwhelming enough. The rest of my "free" time was spent on very fundamental questions stemming from "why should I/we do this."

I actually was able to carve out a fair amount of time for that activity. I have two character traits that really helped me along in my endeavor. First, I have never needed a lot of sleep and have even had periods in my life when I struggled with insomnia. Whereas before I would have turned on the TV or picked up a novel, I now picked up a book on Jewish thought. It wasn't a big a transition as it sounds because in graduate school I had spent those hours doing homework and/or research. It actually felt good to again have my mind occupied again.

Another thing that freed up a lot of time was giving up TV. That happened about 10:40PM one night. I sat down to watch TV, but before I turned it on, I asked myself, "Why are you sitting down to watch this TV program?" I tried to answer myself, "Because it's interesting." That, of course, was met with derision; "What? More interesting than the gemara?" Well, I couldn't answer in the affirmative with a straight face, so I told myself, "But I am too tired to learn gemara right now." I should have known better, because I just answered myself, "So go to bed." Everyone knows I don't play nice when it comes to logical arguments, so anyone who knows me just doesn't start. For better or worse, I am stuck with myself; so basically I never again sat down to watch a television program.

Which leads nicely into the second character trait of mine that helped with learning; I am not socially adept. I find making small talk a burden; I can never think of what to say, so I generally avoid it. Seriously, who wants to have conversations like that one about TV all the time? I mean, I do, but conversations like that don't really make you popular at parties. Again, I was already used to that from graduate school. My conversations at parties during college were usually only a few sentences long:
Them: "Hi, what is your major?"
Me: "Physics"
Them: "Oh. You must be smart."
At which point (as I had no snappy come back), they were already frantically looking for a way out. They always found someone they needed to see right away.

Put those two things together: don't need much sleep and don't require a lot of visiting time and you find a fair amount of time every day to read and learn. I also had a one hour commute to work and Torah Tapes were just becoming very popular. The Kollel in Dallas was just starting and they opened a massive (for the time... 100s of tapes) tape library. I was able to listen to six to 10 tapes a week, mostly on Jewish philosophy, from Aish Hatorah and Ohr Somayach. The content was outstanding and really gave me the knowledge and facts that were missing from my background.  But just as importantly, I also learned (from listening to so many great speakers) how to give over the information. So besides getting the information I needed, listening to all those tapes also gave me the information and skills to discuss my life changes with my friends and family. (Yet another example that G-d runs the world!)

Now I was poised with all the information I needed. All I needed to do was to convince my friends, family, and wife. Oh... and me.