Weddingbee Blog

I chose this post because it reminded me when I was knee-deep in wedding details that (as I wrote in another post) a wedding is not a single “perfect day.” Instead, it’s a long process that begins with the moment you declare your commitment to marry, encompasses actions and decisions both significant and banal, and involves discussion, compromise, and community. It’s about the joining of two families, two cultures, two worldviews, not just about the joining of two people or the throwing of one awesome party. As I reread it now, this post still evokes the sense of adventure, love, commitment, and trepidation I felt—and still feel—about becoming a Chewish wife.

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I’ve mentioned before that I’m in the process of converting to Judaism, and I’ve promised to write a longer post about my decision to convert and what the conversion process entails. So here goes a loooong two-part post…

The popular assumption is that anyone who converts to Judaism for marriage does so only after being pressured into it (usually by a naggy future mother-in-law, whom I’ll call “Estelle,” after George Costanza’s mother). “My darling baby boy. You can’t marry a shiksa!” kvetches Estelle. “Did you eat? Are you eating? Vy are you so thin? Is that shiksa not feeding you?” But Mr. HC’s family has never expressed any concern about his marrying “outside of the tribe” or put any pressure on me to go Jew. To the contrary, they’re to this day incredulous that I’d want to do such a thing!

What led me to convert was this:

Judaism has played a very important role in Mr. HC’s life. His closest friends are those he made in Hebrew school, who bunked with him in the “dork tent” in Jewish summer camp, and who traveled with him to Israel. He wanted our future children to have these experiences as much as I wanted our children to celebrate their Chinese heritage. He hopes that our children will feel “at home” in both cultures. I, on the other hand, hope that our children will inhabit a corporate identity, such that they are not sometimes Jewish and sometimes Chinese, but rather always a union of both. But however our children choose to deal with the identity question, we know that we want them to be truly bicultural, to be Chinese and Jewish.

The Chinese part is easy: I’m as chinky as they come. FOP, yo (that’s “fresh off the plane” for those of you not hip to the immigrant child lingo). The Jewish part, however, is harder. Since Judaism is matrilineal, in order for our children to be Jewish, I’d have to be Jewish.

While that is my primary impetus for converting, I’ve always been drawn to Judaism. I grew up in a part of L.A. that had a sizeable Jewish population. I have probably sipped more Shirley Temples at bar and bat mitzvahs than many Jews-by-birth. In fact, here’s a picture of me leaving for my first bar mitzvah. No, young un’s, that is not a lamp shade around my ass; that was actually a trendy dress style back in the day. Also check out my sad attempt at teased bangs. And my super long faux pearl earrings from Claires. Clearly, I thought I was awesome.

[Hot Cocoa, circa 1990, all ready to slow dance to Belinda Carlisle.]

Anyway, this is all to say that Judaism has never really felt foreign to me. Since Mr. HC and I started dating when I was sixteen (and I dated two Jewish boys before him!), I was always surrounded by Jewish culture, and have been struck by how the values of Judaism—the respect for one’s ancestors, the love of family, the focus on education—were so similar to those of my Chinese family.

Then in college I took a class on the Parable in the Western Tradition, which looked at influence of Jewish writings on modern literature. And I figured out that the approach of Judaism toward texts—the whole culture is focused around interpretation and debate of texts—was completely suited to my worldview. I’m a lawyer and a literature scholar— could there be any religion more appropriate?!

[Image source.]

To say that I felt an affinity with Judaism, though, is not to say that I didn’t have some doubts. Quite often, the thing that is difficult for those who convert is the taking on of a minority consciousness and identity. Objectively speaking, it’s pretty weird to want to become a part of a group that has been marginalized, shunned, and persecuted since time immemorial.

That aspect of it was not so hard for me. As a Chinese-American and an immigrant, I have always had a minority, diasporic consciousness and identity. This is not to say that being Jewish is like being any other minority. Indeed, one of the tough questions I’ve been working out is what it means to be both Jewish and Chinese and American—how these identities interact, complicate, challenge, and enrich one another. But it is to say that I don’t expect to wake up the day after my conversion and be inhabiting a marginalized status that I never understood before.

What was— is—difficult for me, though, is the God thing. While my family is Buddhist, I’ve always been agnostic—not bold enough to be atheist, but too humble to insist that no higher entity exists. Mr. HC is agnostic, as are most of our Jewish friends and family. But it’s one thing to be agnostic when one is born into a religion, and quite another to embrace a monotheistic religion while struggling with the concept of one God.

I’m still struggling. Mightily. But here’s what makes me think Judaism is a right fit for me: the rabbis with whom I’m studying are not only okay with my struggling, they welcome it—encourage it. My sponsoring rabbi (*more about this tomorrow, when I write about the conversion process) encourages me to be open to the concept of holiness, is careful not to characterize God as “He” or to anthropomorphize God, and allows me to ask the big, difficult, head-hurting questions. I don’t think I would be converting if Judaism were a religion that insists on blind faith. It just wouldn’t make sense to me if a group of people who have suffered a Holocaust can have an unvexed relationship with God.

Do you and your fiance/e come from different religious or cultural backgrounds? Are you considering converting? How are you melding your respective religions or cultures into a family identity?