Finding My Voice at the Mikveh

On a clear October day in 2022, I sat in a room with my rabbi while two other rabbis joined us on Zoom. I was both confident and nervous. Here I was, after more than a year of preparation, sitting in front of a beit dinbeit dinבֵּית דִּיןHebrew for "house of judgment", a beit din is a rabbinical court that has jurisdiction in matters of Jewish law.   to discuss and (hopefully) complete my conversion to Judaism. Thankfully, I already knew all three rabbis fairly well, which meant I was able to go more in-depth when writing my personal statement and I was more comfortable discussing some of the factors that had led me to begin my conversion journey.  

My first surprise was when everyone agreed that my personal statement was so thorough that I had already inadvertently answered most of the questions they would have asked. I had been told to expect less of an interview and more of a conversation, but the thoroughness of my statement meant that we got to talk more in depth about my own questions about Judaism and how I related to God.  

One of the most memorable discussions we had was around the fact that some days I believe in God, and other days I don’t, especially after my grandfather passed away and I had a miscarriage in the same week. While the rabbis on my beit din were aware that I had had a miscarriage, I had never been explicit about how much that pain, combined with losing a close family member, had challenged my previously held notions of God.  

I had been raised to believe that abandoning faith in God due to one event (or even multiple events) indicated a faith that had never been strong in the first place. But when I explained all this, my beit din not only validated my feelings, but shared that my reaction was a “very Jewish” way to approach faith.

When the rabbis asked me to step outside for a moment, I felt much less nervous than when we had started. As I sat and waited, I realized that my beit din was unique in more ways than one. Not only had I been given the opportunity to choose the rabbis on my beit din, I had chosen two rabbis who were also women.  

Because all three rabbis were women, I felt more comfortable opening up in my personal statement about how my own experiences as a woman had impacted my understanding of God. I was also more comfortable sharing that I prefer to use the singular they/them when referring to God.  

I had grown up in an environment where God was unquestionably male and most spiritual authority figures were men. Because of this, when I asked questions, they were often met with answers rooted in male-centered experiences. When I began exploring Judaism, I realized that, if there was a God, it made far more sense for them to be a being that transcends gender.  

At my beit din, I was able to share my insights and questions with women who offered their insights, prompted me to think more deeply, and engaged with me as a spiritual equal. No one had to justify their authority. My questions were met with thoughtful replies that encouraged me to arrive at my own answer rather than accept someone else’s interpretation as my own. This entire exchange challenged the framework I had been raised in and empowered me to continue taking ownership of my insights.  

One of the things that drew me to Reform Judaism was that female rabbis are not only accepted, but celebrated. This attitude was one reason Reform Judaism became a safe space for me to take full ownership of my spirituality. I realized that identifying as a woman wasn’t a hindrance to my ability to interpret Torah, it was part of what made my interpretations valuable. By the time I had prepared my personal statement and was ready for my beit din, I was excited to continue studying Torah because I knew that my interpretations would be valued as much as anyone else’s, regardless of gender identity.

After a few moments (which simultaneously felt like one of the longest and one of the shortest waits of my life), my rabbi brought me back into the room where my beit din welcomed me into the Jewish people. In that moment, I felt accepted and trusted to continue engaging with my Judaism, ask questions, and interpret how thousands of years of Jewish teachings fit into my own life. That day, I did more than join the Jewish people, I claimed my voice as a Jewish woman.