I can't remember if I've posted about this before, but tonight I was reminded by a class of a thing that I think may be helpful for some folks.
Because converting is *so* permanent and irreversible, and one should take it at least as seriously as entering a marriage (with the understanding that there is no divorce, only alienation), I think it's honestly a good idea to wait until you've had a major fight with your Judaism before you complete your conversion.
It's the same principle as wanting to wait until you've been sick with the flu together or had a major life setback or are lost at 2 a.m. on a road trip with your fiance before you actually get married. In that case, you want to know (1) what does this scenario bring out in them? (2) what does this scenario bring out in you? (3) how do those things interact with each other? and, most importantly: (4) how do you resolve it together?
With Judaism, it's easy to fall in love with Torah. It's easy to fall in love with an idealized version of your community. With the rituals and the liturgy and the music and the ruach.
It's harder to learn a point of halacha that hurts deeply and to be forced to reconcile what you know in your bones is right with the reality of the words of Torah and its interpretation by the rabbis. It's harder to meet your congregation in love and tochecha when they have fallen short of their vision and failed you in important ways. It's harder to force yourself to engage in mitzvot that you don't see the point in or that are boring or repetitious or do not spark joy.
And until you know how you will react when (not if) that happens, until you know how you will resolve it - or if you will even want to - you aren't ready to commit to something you can't just take off.
Sometimes it sucks to be a Jew. Sometimes Torah is more yoke than honey. Sometimes you're just not feeling it. And that's okay! That doesn't make you an imposter or a bad Jew; it makes you human. But you still need to address it, because that day will come.
I love being Jewish with all my heart, but there are parts of Torah that are like a knife in my soul. For me, the way I resolve it, is that those things in particular are the shards my neshama was sent to liberate the sparks from. We live in a broken, unredeemed world, and sometimes you should feel that, acutely. That is part of being a Jew, that you are sensitized to the world and its suffering. But it should still, in the end, lift you up. It should not break you, and you should not have to cut off major pieces of yourself to fit the role. Hitting that wall and feeling that pain before you immerse in the mikvah can really open your eyes to what kind of Jew you want to be - or if you actually want to carry this burden as well as taste its sweetness.
