Should Jews rethink conversion strategy?

Whenever I see Jehovah's Witnesses coming down the street, Christian Bibles in hand and dressed in their Sunday best, I hightail it to the back of my house in Albany, turn up the music and wait for the doorbell to stop ringing.

Not that they aren't pleasant people. The few times I did engage in conversation with them, I found the missionaries polite and respectful. But when I told them I was Jewish, I could practically hear the Pavlovian bells a-ringing.

Apparently reeling in a Jew is the Holy Grail for missionaries.

I don't like that and I'll bet most other Jews don't either. Since we've had a few unpleasant encounters with forced conversion (the Crusades and the Inquisition come to mind), we tend to avoid opening the door when the smiley faces come calling.

But I have to give them their due: Evangelizing is one hell of a marketing scheme. It's always a full-court press. Whether door-to-door soliciting, 24-hour television networks or the ubiquitous "Jesus Fish" on the back of a car, Christians have made the quest for converts central to their faith.

Successful as they have been at marketing their brand, I often wondered: Why aren't we doing the same?

Think of it. With our inventive Jewish spirit, we could come up with great ways to swell our numbers and counteract the slow leak of intermarriage and secularization.

To lure converts, we could open mall outlets like the Sunglass Hut or Hickory Farms. Let's call our franchise "A Whole New Jew!" Sign up today and win a free knish from Saul's Deli in Berkeley.

Or maybe we can send recruiters into the schools, just like the U.S. military does. Handsome rabbinical students dressed in crisply pressed High Holy Day robes could address assemblies: "Are you tough enough for this man's Judaism, or are you gonna mix milk and meat for the rest of your life, girlie man?"

The reason we don't do retail is simple. It just isn't Jewish to persuade someone else to join the tribe. It is, however, very Jewish for someone to chose conversion on his or her own.

"When it comes to accepting the Jewish faith, a person has to accept it very subjectively," Rabbi Yosef Langer from Chabad of SF told me. "We're looking for quality, not quantity. There is no quota to expand the Jewish people. The decision to convert has to come from the inside out."

Recent events in Israel may shake things up. Earlier this year, Israel's High Court of Justice approved Reform and Conservative conversions abroad. This could open the door to a brave new world of targeted conversion.

Some, particularly in the Orthodox world, decried the court's decisions, but I see nothing wrong with making the tent a little wider.

Not only is there strength in numbers (at 14 million worldwide, we're just a skosh behind the 2 billion Christians and billion-plus Muslims) but I know we can compete with the Christian missionary machine. We've got cooler holidays, hotter women and a Torah you just can't put down once you start.

Not that it should be so easy to become Jewish. Apparently, all you need to do to become a follower of Jesus is utter the words, "I am a follower of Jesus." A life of observing Jewish mitzvot should require a more rigorous boot camp.

I understand Langer's point of view. We don't want people converting just because their boyfriend or girlfriend asked them to. Becoming Jewish shouldn't be an impulse buy, like an ankle tattoo or a potted plant.

But in the marketplace of religious ideas, I like our chances.

Some of the most enthusiastic and knowledgeable Jews I have known were converts. They were the ones who never missed Torah study or minyan. They were the ones who served on synagogue boards and committees. They were the ones who learned Passover songs above and beyond "Dayenu," including an actual melody to "Chad Gadya" (I kid you not).

I wouldn't mind having a few more members of the tribe like that.

Conversion may be off the Jewish radar, but we certainly have plenty to offer as a faith, as a culture, as a people. What's not to like? Maybe we should consider attempting a little reeling in of our own.




Dan Pine lives and kvetches in Albany. He can be reached at .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)">.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).