Aaron C. Kinder
Last Updated:
September 06, 2003
Conversion to Judaism:
Spiritual Autobiography
Also Titled: Willy Wonka and the Matzah Factory
By: Aaron C. Kinder
In preparation for his conversion.
Deciding where to begin is such a difficult task. While this is to be an autobiography of my life, I think it would be appropriate to first give a bit of information about my parents. My mother, Donna Kinder was raised in a Christian home, however they didn’t really have a home church, so to speak. They had no loyalties to any particular denomination either. My mother spent time in Baptist, Church of Christ and Pentecostal Holiness churches. Given my grandmothers background the most significant of these was the Pentecostal Holiness faith.Looking back, I don’t believe my mother found a home in any of the churches she went to at that point. While she believed in God, she was mostly just going through the motions. Like most kids her age, she was much more interested in riding her bike and then later on boys.
When she was around sixteen she meet one older boy named Daniel Henkel. They fell in love and like many teens, now and then, she became pregnant. She gave birth to her first son, myself, just one month shy of her eighteenth birthday. While my Grandfather insisted on marriage it was nearly three years later when that event actually took place. In the mean time my mother lived with her mother (my grandparents were divorced) and my father lived with his.
My father had a spiritual backing, with most of his experiences being of a mystical nature. However, he had little to no experience in organized religion. If he was involved in any particular church, while growing up, he never spoke of it. His mother and father had divorced when he was only two years old and, at the time when my father was growing up, his mother was emotionally distant. His father was always around and gave him the love he needed but considering that the divorce had not been mutual and his father still loved his mother greatly, his fathers mental stability was questionable.
My father had a strong belief in God as well, however he did become involved in drugs and alcohol. Depression also took its toll on him. The depression, drugs and alcohol would become a struggle which he has had up to this point. However, my mother and religion had convinced him to give it up for many years.
As I said before, my parents married when I was approximately three years old. I had the unique experience of actually being a part of my own parents wedding. In a gesture symbolizing the joining of all three of us into a family we walked up the isle together. My mother will never forget (nor will I ever live down) when I swung open the doors to the sanctuary and yelled loudly “Were getting married!” Even then, I was as comfortable in religious buildings as I was at home. That truly must have been an odd moment for my parents and the minister.
The church which my parents were married at classified itself Non-Denominational. I would consider it Pentecostal. The church was a small building on a rather large piece of property, nestled in a little valley. The property was dozed out and had been the project of the Minister for many years. It was his goal to build, not just a church, but something that could truly be a spiritual home. That little valley was named Miracle Valley because as the Minister went to one of the mountains to pray he said he saw an angel of God. Seeing the angel changed his life and, frankly, I believe him.
We had been introduced to the church through my step-Grandfather, (my fathers step-dad) who had made it his home church. The minister, Rev. Bernard Shrader was a wonderfully Godly man with a passionate and benevolent personality. We attended that church for perhaps two years after my parents were married. Later, for reasons that I’m not truly sure of, we left that church and decided we would go to another.
My father has said, in retrospect, that he simply did not feel that we were getting the spiritual fulfillment that we needed at that church. He never really saw it as quitting. He merely viewed the church as if it were on an elementary level and we had graduated to another level. My memories of that first church are few but pleasant. We made friends their that would last throughout my childhood. Rev. Shrader was a continual part of our lives because, even though we had left that church, my Grandfather continued there until his death.
Now that we had graduated it was time to find that “next level” church which we required. The decision seemed easy. A local pastor, Grady McGlothlin, had recently started a church and we decided to give it a try. We had seen him at other churches and we were impressed. On our first visit my parents were sure of there decision. Looking back, I would run for the hills now if I were in such an assembly.
Rev. McGlothlin was an active, vibrant pastor. His services were filled with “shouting“, being “slain in the spirit,” and “speaking in tongues.” It was just the type of church-on-the-move that my parents had hoped for. I approached all the noise and movement rather calmly. The first night was somewhat frightening. I was still a very young child at the time, maybe five years old, and I had no clue what was going on around me. With all the jumping and yelling and I was totally disoriented.
The members could be somewhat pushy and on the first night one lady tried to get me to go downstairs to the “children’s church” service. I was having none of that. It turned out that the “children’s church,” which I had originally had no interest in would become my home away from home. In the younger “classes” it was merely play time. However, once you got older and joined the large class, it was serious bible, theological study and conversation.
When we first started that church we went to Rev. McGlothlin’s on Thursday and Rev. Shrader’s on Sundays. This arrangement didn’t last long. In a short period of time we stopped Rev. Shrader’s altogether and begin going to Grady’s (Rev. McGlothlin) full time.
At Grady’s we were almost always at church. We would spend weeks and weeks going to church every night. Very seldom did we miss services. The church truly was our life. Home was a spiritual center for me as well. At home it was much more spiritual, than just religious.
Prayer and bible was a major component in my home life. Even at a very young age I went to bed each night listening to the Bible on tape. My fathers mystical influence also played an important role in my upbringing. We were a family that believed spirits were always around and that ghost were more than just stories used to scare children.
When I was two years old, my great uncle passed away. This greatly affected my mother. A few years after his death my mother and father would come into my room at night and describe a thickness in the air and his distinct odor in the air. My mother and father had no doubt that it was my uncle checking on the family.
The Childrens Church meetings were a high point for me each week. My teacher was a sweet little lady named Loretta and we would go downstairs after the singing session upstairs was over. Once downstairs we would all gather around Loretta’s desk, take out our bibles and start on a story. Often we would be side tracked by questions the kids would ask and we would spend the rest of the night trying to answer them.
This was often how I would really come into the conversation. Not to brag, but there was never any doubt that when it came to the bible, I knew my scripture. Many times it would just be turned over to me and I would teach about the bible stories, faith and, of course God.
My Sunday school classes weren’t quite as interesting. The teacher really had no interest in what she was doing and eventually quit. When she quit my mother took over. There was no more goofing around after that. My mother came into that class with one goal, to teach. And she took her teaching very serious.
Mom would go over Bible stories and she had a knack for making it interesting. Most bible stories where taught over a two or three class session. When she decided to do Moses it turned into a year long expedition. We explored every aspect of Moses life. My mother bought every book, video or teaching aid about Moses she could get her hands on.
This peeked my interest into these mysterious Hebrews. I was totally fascinated with Moses and the Hebrews. I would even day dream about what it must have been like to be with them when they directly experienced the wonders of God. At this point, Exodus was undoubtedly my favorite book of the bible.
My Dads interest was peeked and he and my mother became a power Husband-Wife teaching team. They would study together at home and I would watch, enthusiastically as they taught each other in our living room floor. They also had a third member of the team that came about. My Moms best friend, Lisa began teaching and many times they would join together for one big class.
Everything seemed to be going great until one Sunday in December. My father was sick and stayed home, which was rare in itself. However my Mother and I went on to services like always. I could tell something was different that day. There was no teaching that day. My mother got all the kids into a room and put in a video. She and the other teachers went into another room to discuss what would be a major change in my life.
That would be the last day my life would be what I had grown to view as normal. I was forced to spend most of that day in my room while my parents had serious discussion in the living room. Later my mother took me to the side to tell me that we would no longer be going to church. I would like to say I was shocked, but for some reason it came as no surprise to me.
I asked only one question, “Why? Is it an Edna thing?” Edna was a lady who used to go to our church several years prior but had quit because she claimed Grady had made a sexual advance. My mothers answered rang in my ears. “Yes.” My reality was broken. I knew that would change things for us immensely. I was right. It wasn’t only my world that had crumbled. My mom’s faith in organized religion had been crushed.
Less than a year later my parents separated and then divorced. With all that had happened over the year, I felt the freedom to search for where I fit spiritually. I toyed with the New Age movement. That was a great distress to my family. I believe it was the only time after the divorce that my parents actually joined together. Unfortunately they had joined together to lecture me.
I checked out several books from the school library on world religions but almost ever time I found myself going straight to the Judaism section. It seemed impossible for me to become a Jew even though that was what I wanted. There were no synagogues near me and I just gave up. One day I took out the phone book and flipped through the church listings. Only one seemed to stick out in my mind: St. Mary’s Catholic Church.
I paid my first visit one Sunday morning for mass and I loved it. All the people came over to speak to me and seemed genuinely interested in who I was. The Priest at St. Mary’s, Fr. Tom Collins, was a wonderful man. He was compassionate, funny and quick witted. At his nudging, I started the Catholic conversion class.
I really liked Fr. Tom but it just didn’t seem right. My mind kept going back to Judaism. At the same time I was going to the RCC class I made my first attempt to contact a synagogue. I searched on the internet for synagogues in Virginia. All the synagogues were to far away but while on one of the synagogues websites I saw the link for the UAHC.
I was thrilled when I found that there was a synagogue in Bristol. I knew that I had to go but I didn’t feel comfortable telling my mother at this point. By this time I had toyed with the idea of conversion but I had no idea how to tell my mother. The solution to my problem came in the form of my best friend Charise. I was only fifteen but she was a year older than me and had her driver license and a car.
We developed an elaborate plan for what to tell our parents. We would tell them a little half truth. We told them we were going to Bristol for a special church event. It worked and we headed off to Bristol with there blessing.
We arrived at the synagogue early however the doors were unlocked so we headed on inside and sat on the couch in the living room. Soon people began to arrive. One of the first people we meet was Josh Grossman. He gave us a tour of the facility and then looked at the two of us and asked why we had come. Charise quickly announced, “I’m just driving him.” Great, the balls in my court now. When my turn came I proudly announced that I planned to convert. I was now sure that conversion I what I wanted. Josh Grossman looked at me and said nothing. My response didn’t seem to impress him.
We sat through the service and my friend couldn’t keep up at all. I flew through the prayer book pretty well. The melodies seemed to stir my soul. I didn’t think it could get any better than this. Then it did! The curtains of the ark were opened and I would be lying if I said I didn’t say that I got so moved that I actually wiped away a tear. This was defiantly what I wanted in my life. My decision was set.
I headed on out after services and I don’t believe I shut up for one second on the way home. I couldn’t stop talking about the entire thing. The service, the torah, the talliot on the hangers…I was determined.
Next dilemma: telling my parish Priest that I wanted to quit his conversion because I had decided to convert to Judaism. I had an appointment that Wednesday to meet with Fr. Tom. I just came right out and told him in one long sentence, “Father Tom I’ve decided not to convert to Catholicism because I’m considering conversion to Judaism.” Silence. I was waiting for some big lecture about how I was going to hell or something but that’s not what I got.
Fr. Tom simply said that he only wanted what was right for me and that he had only one thing to ask from me.
“Would you mind if I went with you to the synagogue sometime.”
My Parish Priest wants to go with me to a synagogue? “Sure!”
I eventually told my mother about my decision and she was very supportive. She read books about the conversion process and said that she would give her permission if I could find a Rabbi that would do a conversion for someone underage. Of course I couldn’t but at least I had her support. My Grandmother even got involved and actually worked as my driver for a couple of years, back and forth from synagogue.
It wasn’t all great. Some relatives weren’t so supportive. My uncle saw often confused it with Buddhism and really wasn’t that impressed when he found out that it was actually Judaism - as in “Jew.” I cant even begin to number the times that I’ve heard, “But you were raised to believe…….” I cant tell you how much I hate that phrase.
It didnt go over much better at school. My decision was very public. I often wore my Star of David necklace and it did cause problems. Swastikas were drawn on my desk, I received several death threats and “All Jews Must Die” was written on the bathroom stall at school. This wasn’t even the worst of it. In my history class my teacher allowed one student to stand before me and the class and praise Adolf Hitler for his “great work.” He did have one complaint about Hitler. He said Hitler simply didn’t “kill enough.”
My mother saw what is was like for me in school when she came to pick me up one day and a guy yelled out his truck window as I walked out of school, “Come on over here Jew and we’ll hang ya!” She chased him down and gave him a little lesson in tolerance.
I continued to attend B’nai Sholom until after my graduation, when I moved to Columbus Ohio. After making my moved to Ohio Judaism wasn’t center in my mind. I was too concerned with trying to make ends meet and pay my bills. I did, however, continue to observe the holidays. Very seldom did I go to synagogue however I did light my shabbos candles on Friday nights.
While working at Target I meet an older Orthodox Jewish lady. She came for an interview and told me about the problems she had getting a job at Target because she wasn’t able to work on Friday evening or Saturday. I asked why and she said because she was Jewish. I considered my self Jewish so I told her that I was as well. That was how I sincerely felt so that is that I told her.
We struck up a friendship and when I was having problems with my roommates she invited me to live with her. I was somewhat reluctant but I said yes. She did however make me study before moving in. I had to learn about the laws of Kashrut because she kept a kosher home. I was thrilled. I was interested in living in a home where being Jewish was just a normal part of life.
It wasn’t easy. We had three sets of dishes and silverware; one for meat, one for dairy and one for parve. We also had two dishwashers. One was for meat dishes and the other for dairy. She didn’t mind that I worked on Shabbat but it didn’t change the way we ran our home. No electricity was used on Shabbat and Julia didn’t accept phone calls.
I started attending a local reform temple and I wasn’t happy. The synagogue was large and beautiful but they didn’t require head coverings for men and used organ music in there services. This wasn’t the brand of Judaism I was interested in. I visited an orthodox shul. I enjoyed it but I really didn’t care for the separate seating for men and women.
I quit the synagogue I was going to there and home was were Judaism really came into play for me. When I was home on Shabbat we would light the shabbos candles together. When I had to work I would come in to the warm light of only the shabbos candles glowing in the corner. It was as if you could feel God in the room.
Things weren’t all roses. Julia and I had serious personality conflicts and I eventually moved out and back to Virginia. In spite of all the negative things that happened with Julia, I will always be grateful to her for giving me my first taste of a traditional Shabbat.
After I moved back I, naturally decided to go back to B’nai Sholom. Home again! Believe it or not, I had lived as a Jew so long that I had forgotten about conversion until a congregant asked me if I had converted yet. I said no and they told me about Rabbi. Brian’s conversion class and that has all brought me to this point today.
I’ve been living a Jewish life for so long that at this point it no longer feels like a conversion. Its more like I’m just now officially confirming my Jewishness in a formal way. I look forward, not to starting my Jewish life, but to continue with it.
Copyright ©2003 Aaron C. Kinder, All Rights Reserved.