To Immerse or Not to Immerse?

My boyfriend was sitting with me at my Reform temple, listening as the rabbi recounted our predicament to make sure he understood the situation.

“Joe, by asking Brianna to convert into Conservative Judaism, it is denying the fact that she is Jewish to begin with,” my rabbi said.

Not only was Joe questioning my Jewish identity, but we were debating whether or not it would be necessary for me to visit the mikveh.

My boyfriend, whom I met online, comes from a very traditional Sephardic Conservadox background. He feels that my family heritage has a “questionable” past, and to his mind a conversion was necessary before we could continue with our relationship.

A small pool of water stood between me and my future with Joe.

The family history in question is on my mother’s side. My maternal grandmother converted as a Conservative Jew three years after my mother was born. Under Conservative and Orthodox law, children must be born to a Jewish mother or choose to convert later in life to be considered Jewish. Either way, my mom was raised Jewish and only found out decades later, after her mother passed away, that she wasn’t born Jewish. 

This didn’t stop my family from reinforcing Judaism in our home or keep my parents from ensuring that we received a religious school education for 12 years. Becoming a bat mitzvah was one of the defining moments of my life, and I have continued to embrace my Jewish heritage with dedication and love.

“Bri, it’s not that big a deal. Why can’t you do this for me?” Joe asked.

In my mind, if the mikveh is not that big a deal, then why has the choice not to do it become such an ordeal? 

This all started two years ago with an online flirt, and it evolved into a strong, faithful and loving relationship. We spent hours on the phone each night for weeks before meeting in person for the first time. We got to know each other and started falling in love. Joe is an otherwise supportive guy, who backs me in my professional and personal endeavors with love and adoration, and has helped me in my quest for self-discovery and self-improvement. Although we have taken many steps forward in our relationship, the discussion of religion always seems to set us back. 

During an event my boyfriend’s family held, Joe’s rabbi approached me and started asking if we were considering marriage. That conversation progressed into an e-mail correspondence about my authenticity as a Jew.

“With your background and love of Judaism, a conversion would require a few meetings with me followed by immersion in a mikveh,” Joe’s rabbi wrote. “This is my recommendation. If you are not amenable to this, I respect your decision and, while I couldn’t help you with a wedding ceremony, still offer myself as a rabbi and a friend when needed.”

My Judaism has never been up for debate at any Reform synagogue, and the idea of going to the mikveh started to plague me. Would immersing myself in the mikveh magically make me any more Jewish than I was already? Washing away years of religious education and tradition to ensure an acceptable Jewish identity?

And then it’s not as if he’s actually proposed. He’s just my boyfriend.

But there’s potential.

Joe vacillated between what his family and rabbi want me to do and what he wants me to do. As he tells me, “I would marry you in a heartbeat, but I can’t, because I would not have my family’s blessing. None of my rabbis would marry us —  not one. In addition to that, any children that we have would also have their faith in question. You are Jewish at heart, but you need this to solidify your Judaism.”

So, here we are: torn and conflicted as we try to make peace in this controversial situation. Joe is my other, perhaps my beshert. Family traditions are important to both of us as we try to find the best way to unify our home.

Joe is proud of his thousands-year-old family heritage; his family was expelled from Spain in 1492 and then moved to Morocco for several hundred years before coming to the United States. His traditions can be traced along the millennia and have not diminished in strength.

The mikveh would put Joe and his family at ease, but it would do nothing to ease the fear that my traditions would be brushed aside. My Judaism is just as valid. My father’s side carries strong Ashkenazi Jewish traditions, and my mother was raised Jewish her whole life. We always celebrated Passover, Rosh Hashanah and broke fast at my paternal grandmother’s home together. Those traditions are important to me and will be passed on to my children, mikveh or no mikveh.

Brianna Moss, a San Fernando Valley native, is a UC Santa Barbara and University of Kentucky graduate. She is currently a French professor in the Bay Area, and can be reached at mossbrianna@yahoo.com.