Everybody sees the world through rose colored glasses.

We look in the mirror and

we see who and what we want to see. We look at the world and cannot understand why
the clarity that is so obvious to us is obscured for others.
Why this is so is easy to understand. For example, the child of parental abuse often
equates the abuse with love. Even as the child is being abused he or she believes that
abuse occurs because the parent really does loves the child. 'I must be deserving of
punishment', or 'It is my fault' are all the child needs to believe he or she is worthy of
punishment- and that means the parent 'cares'. What is obvious abuse to us can be an
expression of love to the abused.
When it comes to geirim (converts) the orthodox community have one set of rose
colored glasses and the geirim have another pair. Neither group really understands each
other and for the most part they can't, no matter how well meaning. Each come from a
different world. The orthodox community may see itself (or want to be seen) as an
example of 'heaven on earth.' After a bit of time and when the ether wears off, the ger
may not exactly share that point of view. Further, orthodox Jews often view the ger with
much suspicion- and that's the nice way of putting it. They often believe that the entire
life of the ger prior to their conversion is of no value. Many see that life as pollutant.
They discount the ger's family and relationships, education and incredibly, even their
morality. The amount of pain that causes a ger can hardly be measured- and that pain can
last a lifetime and can even roll into pain for a ger's children. The thought is sobering.
For now, each group has lowered expectations. They want to accommodate and
acclimate to each other in the most cordial way possible. Anything beyond that is a
bonus.

For the ger, most often the community's initial warm welcome wears thin as reality
sets in. The (prospective) geirim are not descended from heaven to validate and bestow
sacred praise upon the community simply because they exist. Further, not every Jew can
answer the most profound or not so profound questions. In fact, a lot Jews don't really
care. Day to day life is enough to deal with. It's 'nice to have you aboard' is often the
message, followed by 'have a nice life'. That isn't exactly an overwhelming and
meaningful reception. The ger learns quickly that we are a pedestrian lot with saints and
sinners and paupers and princes.
For many orthodox Jews, geirim are a complete mystery. Who in right mind would
give up Peter Luger's, burritos or a Whopper, forever? Who would trade away real music
to listen to a lifetime of male prepubescent screeching? You have to be out of your mind
to give all that up! Jews who are born into it, well, that's one thing, but to do it willingly?
Besides, aren't we trying mightily to find kosher ways to copy 'them'? What the ger finds
most hurtful is that most people don't care, even when they say they do. Everyone is an
expert and everyone has advice- all from a distance.
Something is very wrong.
In reading the comments to Michal Tastik's posts on this blog, it is clear she and
other geirim unloaded and touched more than a few nerves. Still waters run deep, as they

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say. There is much beneath the surface and not all of it is pretty or placid for either the
geirim or orthodox Jews. I for one am glad to see it all unfold.
In his or her journey, does a ger choose to find the truth or does a ger seek
happiness? Some geirim will say 'both' and that may or may not be true. Usually though,
life changes come about as the result of a treasure hunt, a search for something- not two
somethings.
In understanding where a ger is coming from, that singular question and answer can
provide real insight into the real person and not their geirus- and there is a profound
difference. In the process, we can and ought to ask ourselves the very same questions (if
our newly minted Jewish shabbos guests are too polite to probe) and reflect on what
Yiddishkeit really means to us. Many people will say that Yiddishkeit is about learning
Torah and being careful with every mitzvah and getting it just right with all the chumras
and Mussar and so one. Others will say that Yiddishkeit is about finding internal peace
and meaning.
G-d does not divine our kavanas from the ever increasing and silly chumras we take
upon ourselves so that our neighbors might be impressed with our devotions. All those
things are extraneous expressions- they say nothing as to who we really are and as to
what we really believe.
Consider this: Why do so many athletes dress like CEO's of Fortune 100 companies?
Some can barely read and others have barely graduated high school! Why dress in
thousand dollar designer suits? The answer is simple. They believe that if we see them all
dressed up we will respect them more and respect what they have to say.They believe that
wearing a thousand dollar suit will camouflage the reality that their entire worth is
predicated on how well they can run with a ball, hit a ball or shoot free throws. They
believe that wearing a thousand dollar suit transforms them into who they want to be and
how they want others to perceive them.
It is the same with many in the orthodox community. Wearing designer suits, two
dishwashers, two kitchens and insisting on 'glatt' chickens are visible and extraneous
expressions of empty frumkeit. 'Empty!', you say in outrage? Yes, empty. Your 'heilege
bubba' had only one kitchen and your 'helige' zaide had a lot fewer chumras than you do-
and they were probably better and more honest people. They lived more honest lives,
though no doubt they would hardly fit in today. A local pulpit rabbi was asked by a
Brooklyn guest how he could possibly eat in the house of a frum baal habayis whose wife
did not wear a sheitel. His response was simple: What is in her head is a lot more
important that what goes on her head. In some communities, that is still true.
Chumras do not a frum person make. It is not what a person wears but rather what a
person believes and how those beliefs influence what that person doe that will define that
individual. That truth is common sense. It applies equally to frum people and geiring
alike.
Orthodox Jews are not inherently better than geirim or anyone else. Frum people
may be privileged, but no more than that. If that privilege is squandered, waster or abused
the birthright means nothing. Esav is the best example of that truth. As we listen to the
account in Bereishis, we instinctively understand that he was undeserving of the sacred

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inheritance by way of his actions. He and Yakov grew up in the same house, with the
same father and mother and in the end his actions and behavior determined his destiny.
He was deprived of his birthright long before the deal was sealed with a bowl of lentils.
Geirim are privileged too, but in a different way. Like tzaddikim, they are the piece
of art that takes our breath away or the poem that reduces us to tears. They don't ever
fully fit in or know just how pedestrian we really are. How could they? They live in this
world yet perceive kedusha in a way that is mystical. They, more than us, don't just
subconsciously recall Sinai, they live it.
It is true we demand from the ger or giyores fidelity to mitzvos, but in truth that
demand is asking for a commitment to the mechanical. What we are really asking of the
ger or giyores is fidelity to our potential as sacred human beings, to be worthy of
B'tzelem Elokim
If we diminish the ger, we diminish ourselves. We should ask mechilah- and we
should also hope that the ger recognizes our shortcomings and is forgiving. On the flip
side, a ger who cannot or will not forgive is not adding to the community or to his or her
potential.
Then we all lose.