Stories of Hope: I Tried To Be a Jew. They Wouldn’t Let Me
A would-be convert’s Jerusalem journey collides with the practical and personal limits of faith, marriage, and identity
Editor’s Note: At a time when headlines are dominated by war, loss, and division, The Media Line has launched a new series, Stories of Hope, to make room for something often missing from the news cycle: stories that illuminate resilience, meaning, and the human capacity to endure and build, even in difficult circumstances. These pieces do not deny hardship or pain. Rather, they explore moments of purpose, courage, creativity, and connection—sometimes quiet, sometimes bold—that remind us what is still possible. “I Tried To Be a Jew. They Wouldn’t Let Me” is the second installment in the series.
Abu Omar served me his Jerusalem coffee at the Al Mufti Café on the Via Dolorosa in the Old City almost every day last winter. Outside, a few yards away on the same path Christians believe Jesus took to his crucifixion, Christian pilgrims sang hymns after praying at the Sixth Station of the Cross. Muslims passed by on their way to Al-Aqsa Mosque for the afternoon prayer. Inside, I kept thinking about how to film my podcast in the café and wondering why every news article and interview I’d tried to produce in Jerusalem lately had failed.
Al Mufti Café on Via Dolorosa in the Old City of Jerusalem. (Jack Baxter)
By Christmas, I’d thought I was on my way to changing the Middle East. I’d hired my friend Alon Farago to film the podcast I titled Jack Baxter’s My Jerusalem Syndrome with Adi Hitchcock. On the first of our two shows, Haim Poko gave me my first tattoo at 72 years old—a COEXIST logo inked on my chest above my heart.
COEXIST by Combo Culture Kidnapper, 2017. (Courtesy Jack Baxter)
I didn’t know how to change course, and I was a long way from home. Then the answer came from Joshua Faudem, my friend and director of our documentary, Blues by the Beach. It wasn’t a lark, not another phase. What Joshua said felt natural, like fate: “You should convert to Judaism and become a Jew.”
Jack Baxter and Joshua Faudem in London, 2017. (Avi Levi)
Last January, after waking to sirens warning of another incoming ballistic missile from Yemen, I published my rants online at 4 a.m. People back in the States who read my social media posts said I’d flipped out. Maybe I did. Everyone has PTSD in Israel, and I’m no exception. Outside the Old City walls, I got into loud arguments in public, on social media, and over texts with Israelis, Palestinians, friends, and guys I grew up with in the Bronx.
Meanwhile, my wife, Franny, had had enough of me. I’d left her alone in New York through the winter holidays and beyond. I was in the Middle East tilting at windmills, losing my temper, and spending our money. I told her I was coming home in April—and not before.
Fran Strauss Baxter and Jack Baxter, 2023. (Courtesy Jack Baxter)
That’s when Joshua Faudem offered what he framed as the fix. “You should become an Israeli, Jack, by converting to Judaism. You’re more Jewish than a lot of Jews. So become an official Jew already! I know people you can meet who will break it down for you.”
So that was it: I’d convert and become a Jew. This was the “something” I’d wanted to happen in Jerusalem—becoming Jewish.
Joshua introduced me to Modern Orthodox Rabbi Shai Finkelstein and Marcus James, a 67-year-old convert from California making aliyah and awaiting approval of his religious conversion for Israeli citizenship.
Joshua Faudem and Marcus James, Hataklit Bar in Jerusalem. (Courtesy Jack Baxter)
I told Rabbi Finkelstein the PG-13-rated version of my life: Irish Catholic, St. Patrick’s Cathedral choirboy, long-haired Jesus freak, and now a semi-retired provocateur with a messianic complex.
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The writer was a Saint Patrick’s Cathedral choirboy, 1963. (Merv Gold)
“Joshua does not keep kosher,” Rabbi Finkelstein said. “He’s secular as are many Jews and Israelis. But when you convert to Judaism and join us, you must keep kosher. But not right away. It’s not required. For now, read the Torah, pray, come to temple Friday nights. In time, we see.”
Rabbi Shai Finkelstein, Kehillat Nitzanim synagogue in Jerusalem. (Courtesy)
It looked like about two years before I’d be Jewish. The plan was to find another Modern Orthodox rabbi to continue the process when I got back to New York. Still, I decided to speed things up. I had 10 weeks left in Jerusalem to see if I could hack it.
Keeping kosher in Jerusalem is no big deal, but Shabbat was tougher. I stay in shape, but I’ve used a cane since 2003. On my first kosher Friday night, I got caught outside my Airbnb after the Shabbat siren. I set an example for myself, kept kosher, and climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator.
Once inside my room, I broke the 39 Shabbat melakhot rules nonstop—turning electricity on and off, lighting matches, bathroom etiquette, and, especially, the no-writing rule, which tripped me up fast. I also had no choice but to break the no-driving, no-riding-in-cars rule because I lived across town from Kehillat Nitzanim Synagogue.
Marcus James, the California convert, lent me his copy of Abraham Joshua Heschel’s The Sabbath after I told him the Shabbat melakhot rules were impossible for me to keep. “Just cool out and relax,” Marcus said. “That’s how we do Shabbat.”
Next, I bought Reference Guide to the Talmud by Rabbi Adin Even-Israel Steinsaltz. I made notes, recorded myself reading aloud for hours each morning, and fell asleep listening to it. Joshua saw the Steinsaltz book on my desk and said he knew Steinsaltz’s son, Meni. “I’m going to get you a meeting with Meni and you guys can talk Talmud.”
The writer’s conversion books. (Courtesy Jack Baxter)
Meni Even-Israel met us at the Steinsaltz Center off King George Street. He looked at me and said, “Let me get this straight. You want to convert so you can make aliyah and become an Israeli?”
“Yes, that’s it in a nutshell,” I said. “I love Jerusalem. I eventually want to live here fulltime. I’m trying to convince my wife, but it’s a tough sell.”
Meni stroked his beard, then asked whether my wife was going to keep kosher with me.
“No.”
“Then forget it! You’re going to keep kosher and your Jewish wife isn’t? Is that what you’re telling me? She’ll divorce you for being too Jewish! Be a good man, Jack. That’s what you can be. You support Israelis and Jews? Baruch Hashem. We need all the support we can get. You becoming a Jew is not going to happen. Trust me.”
Meni Even-Israel, executive director, Steinsaltz Center, Jerusalem. (Courtesy)
After that, I called my wife and told her I wasn’t going to try to be Jewish anymore. Franny said she’d just told her brothers about me converting, and Bernie said Welcome to The Tribe! Arthur and Manny said I was the most Jewish non-Jew they know. “Why don’t you want to convert to Judaism anymore? What happened?”
I told Franny what the rabbi said about her not keeping kosher.
“So now it’s my fault you’re not becoming Jewish?”
After the call, I took a taxi to the Isrotel in Tel Aviv for the weekend. Friday night, I went down to the beach to Mike’s Place, ate a bacon cheeseburger deluxe, and watched SOBO Blues Band perform on Shabbat.
SOBO Blues Band at Mike’s Place, Tel Aviv, 2025. (Jack Baxter)
On my last Friday in Jerusalem, Joshua and I had lunch at Arafat Hummus in the Old City. Thousands of Jews, Muslims, and Christians crowded the ancient alleyways after praying at the Western Wall, the Dome of the Rock, and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.
After lunch, we headed up the Via Dolorosa, past the Sixth Station of the Cross, to the Al Mufti Cafe. I said my goodbyes and introduced Joshua Faudem to Abu Omar. The Jerusalemites spoke to each other in English, Hebrew, and Arabic. I heard them say my name and figured their laughter had something to do with me.
Via Dolorosa, Old City of Jerusalem. (Jack Baxter)
Before I left, I told Abu Omar I’d see him next year in Jerusalem and wished him “Have a good Friday” in Arabic: “Jumma Mubarak.”
He smiled at me and said, “Shabbat Shalom to you, my friend.”
