Parashat Hashavua · Thinking of Converting · Standard
Numbers 25:10-30:1
Hook
Standing on the threshold of a Jewish life is a profound, dizzying experience. If you are currently exploring gerut (conversion), you likely find yourself caught in a delicate dance between two worlds. On some days, the draw toward the Jewish people feels like an ancient, magnetic pull—a homecoming to a family you didn’t know you had. On other days, the sheer weight of Jewish history, the complexity of the laws, and the realization that you are asking to join a global, historical covenant can feel utterly overwhelming. You might ask yourself: Do I have the right to stand here? Will there ever be a place that is truly mine within this story?
This tension—between the yearning to belong and the fear of stepping forward—is not a modern invention. It is woven into the very fabric of our sacred texts.
Parashat Pinchas Numbers 25:10-30:1 is a masterclass in what it means to claim your place in the covenant. It is a text about transitions, boundaries, and the courage it takes to declare your presence before God and the community. At its core, this Torah portion asks us: How do we count ourselves among the Jewish people? How do we establish our inheritance when the path before us seems unwritten?
For someone on the path of conversion, this parashah is not merely an ancient historical record. It is a mirror. It reflects your vulnerability, your agency, and the profound truth that the Jewish covenant is not a static museum piece to be admired from afar, but a living, breathing landscape that is reshaped by those who have the courage to step forward and claim their portion within it.
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Context
To understand why this text is so vital for your discernment process, we must look at where it falls in the larger narrative of the Torah and how it speaks directly to the modern path of gerut:
- The Transition of Generations: This parashah takes place on the steppes of Moab, at the very edge of the Promised Land. The generation that escaped Egypt has died in the wilderness, and a new census is taken Numbers 26:1-2. This is a moment of profound identity shift. The old is falling away, and a new collective identity is being forged. For a converting student, this mirrors your own transition. You are stepping out of your own "wilderness" of spiritual searching and preparing to be counted as a legal, spiritual member of a new generation of Israel.
- The Balance of Zealotry and Peace: The portion begins in the shadow of a crisis. Israel has faltered, slipping into idolatry and boundary-crossing at Baal-peor Numbers 25:1-3. Pinchas acts with terrifying, zealous violence to halt the plague ravaging the community, and in return, God awards him a brit shalom—a covenant of peace Numbers 25:12. This complex narrative forces us to wrestle with the boundaries of Jewish identity. It reminds us that entering the covenant is not a casual lifestyle choice; it requires a fierce, passionate commitment to the integrity of the Jewish path, yet its ultimate goal must always be peace, wholeness, and life.
- Relevance to the Beit Din and Mikveh: In this parashah, we see the legal and spiritual mechanisms of belonging. We see land being apportioned, censuses being taken, and individuals presenting their legal cases before the leadership. When you eventually stand before a beit din (rabbinic court) and immerse in the mikveh (ritual bath), you will be participating in the modern equivalent of these biblical proceedings. You will not just be adopting a set of beliefs; you will be legally and spiritually registering your soul in the ongoing "census" of the Jewish people. Like the figures in our parashah, you will stand before the representatives of the community to declare your commitment to the shared destiny of Israel.
Text Snapshot
"The daughters of Zelophehad, of Manassite family—son of Hepher son of Gilead son of Machir son of Manasseh son of Joseph—came forward. The names of the daughters were Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah. They stood before Moses, Eleazar the priest, the chieftains, and the whole assembly, at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, and they said, 'Our father died in the wilderness... and he has left no sons. Let not our father’s name be lost to his clan just because he had no son! Give us a holding among our father’s kinsmen!' Moses brought their case before G-d." Numbers 27:1-5
Close Reading
Insight 1: Boldness in the Pursuit of Belonging: The Daughters of Zelophehad as a Model for Gerut
For many people exploring conversion, the greatest hurdle is not learning how to bake challah or memorizing the Hebrew alphabet; it is the persistent, quiet voice of imposter syndrome. You may feel like a guest in someone else’s home, hesitant to take up space, terrified of making a mistake during a service, or worried that because you do not have Jewish ancestors, you will always be a second-class citizen in the Jewish world.
If you carry this anxiety, I want you to look closely at the daughters of Zelophehad: Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah Numbers 27:1.
In the ancient Near East, land inheritance was strictly patrilineal. Because their father had died without leaving a son, these five women were, according to the standard operating procedures of the time, completely disenfranchised. They had no legal claim to land, no structural way to keep their father's name alive, and no recognized "portion" in the Promised Land. They were on the margins, facing a future of invisibility and displacement.
But they did not accept this invisibility. The text tells us that they "came forward" (va-tikravnah) Numbers 27:1.
The Hebrew root of this word, karav, is incredibly rich. It does not just mean to walk closer; it is the very same root used for bringing a sacrifice (korban) to God. It means to draw near to the center of holiness, to bridge a gap that previously existed.
And where did they stand? They did not whisper their grievances in the tents. They stood "before Moses, Eleazar the priest, the chieftains, and the whole assembly, at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting" Numbers 27:2. They marched right to the epicentre of political and spiritual power—the place where the divine presence rested—and they made their case.
The medieval commentator Ralbag (Rabbi Levi ben Gershon) draws a magnificent lesson from this moment. In his commentary, he writes that we learn from this episode:
"that a person should not be prevented by shame from bringing their case before the great, but should instead strive with diligence and alacrity so that they may obtain what is rightfully theirs." Ralbag on Torah, Numbers 25:10-11:1
The Ralbag is pointing to a profound psychological truth: shame is the enemy of belonging. If these five women had succumbed to the shame of their marginalized status, if they had let the "rules of the day" dictate their worth, their father’s name would have been erased, and their own lives would have been diminished. Instead, they acted with alacrity—with a holy boldness.
When you are undergoing gerut, you are in a very similar position. You were not born into a Jewish family. You do not have a standard "patrilineal" or "matrilineal" claim to the inheritance of Israel. The standard legal structures of the past did not automatically account for you.
Yet, the message of this text is that sincerity and justice override precedent.
When Moses brings the daughters' case before God, God’s response is immediate and absolute: "The plea of Zelophehad’s daughters is just: you should give them a hereditary holding among their father’s kinsmen; transfer their father’s share to them" Numbers 27:7. God does not merely grant them a favor; God rewrites the law to accommodate their justice. God validates their agency.
As a converting student, your journey is an act of va-tikravnah—of drawing near. When you stand before a beit din, you are not begging for charity. You are standing before the leadership of the Jewish people and declaring, with the same dignity as Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah: “My soul belongs to this people. I want my portion in this land, in this Torah, in this destiny. Do not let my place be lost.”
The Torah: A Women's Commentary highlights this shift in agency beautifully. It notes that while the parashah begins with a disturbing scene of vulnerability, temptation, and violence at Baal-peor, it shifts to these five women who show how to transform the communal boundary from one of exclusion and fear to one of inclusion and justice The Torah: A Women's Commentary on Numbers 25:10:4. They prove that the boundaries of Israel are elastic enough to expand for those who seek to dwell within them in truth.
Your desire to convert is not an intrusion. If your heart is sincere, your pursuit of a Jewish life is a holy act of justice. You are claiming the portion that your soul was promised at Mount Sinai.
Insight 2: The Covenant of Peace and the Weight of Commitment: Vows, Boundaries, and Communal Rhythms
To convert to Judaism is to enter into a covenant (brit). But what, exactly, does that mean?
In the Western world, we tend to view religion as a matter of personal belief—a private, intellectual assent to certain dogmas. But in Judaism, the covenant is a legal, communal, and relational reality. It is about boundaries and commitments.
This parashah begins with the story of Pinchas, who receives God's brit shalom—His covenant of friendship or peace Numbers 25:12. The background to this is painful. The Israelites had let their boundaries dissolve. They "profaned themselves by whoring with the Moabite women" and "attached themselves to Baal-peor," a pagan deity Numbers 25:1-3.
In the biblical idiom, "whoring" is not just about physical intimacy; it is about spiritual faithlessness. It is the blurring of boundaries. It is trying to have it both ways—to be part of the covenant with the One God while simultaneously playing with the idolatrous practices of the surrounding cultures.
Pinchas' response was extreme and violent. He executed a high-ranking Israelite man, Zimri, and a Midianite princess, Cozbi, who were publicly flouting the moral and spiritual boundaries of the community Numbers 25:6-8.
While the violence of Pinchas is deeply disturbing to modern sensibilities—and indeed, Jewish tradition itself has wrestled with his vigilante actions for millennia—the Torah's ultimate focus is on the restoration of peace and the preservation of the community.
The Or HaChaim (Rabbi Chaim ibn Attar), a 18th-century Moroccan kabbalist and commentator, asks a fascinating question about Numbers 25:10: Why does the text say "G-d spoke to Moses, saying (lemor)"? To whom was Moses supposed to say this? Pinchas already knew what he had done.
The Or HaChaim explains:
"I suppose that G'd wanted Moses to tell the entire people that not only had Pinchas not acted highhandedly and they had no cause to hate him for having killed one of their princes, but that thanks to Pinchas' deed the whole nation had benefited immediately." Or HaChaim on Numbers 25:10:2
The Or HaChaim is pointing out that the community was in danger of fracturing. There was likely immense resentment toward Pinchas for his extreme act. But God wanted the community to understand that Pinchas acted out of a desperate, passionate love for the covenant, saving the nation from a spiritual and physical plague.
For you, as someone exploring conversion, this narrative holds a vital lesson about the nature of Jewish commitment: Judaism requires clear boundaries, and those boundaries are kept through our choices.
When you choose to become Jewish, you are not just adding a new interest to your life; you are making a radical, singular commitment. You are deciding to "attach" yourself to the God of Israel and the destiny of the Jewish people. This means consciously choosing to leave other spiritual frameworks behind. You cannot be "half-Jewish" and "half-something-else." Just as the Israelites at Baal-peor learned that they could not merge the worship of God with the worship of Baal, a convert learns that the beauty of the Jewish covenant requires exclusivity.
This exclusivity is not about superiority; it is about relationship. A marriage covenant only works if the partners agree to establish boundaries that protect their intimacy. Your conversion is a marriage to the Jewish people and the Divine.
This theme of commitment is reinforced at the very end of our parashah, which discusses the laws of vows (nedarim) and oaths (shevuot):
"If anyone makes a vow to G-d or takes an oath imposing an obligation on themselves, they shall not break their pledge; they must carry out all that has crossed their lips." Numbers 30:2
In Judaism, words create reality. Your verbal commitments are sacred bonds. When a candidate stands before the beit din, they make a formal declaration of kabbalat mitzvot—the acceptance of the commandments. This is, in essence, a sacred vow. It is a promise to live a life structured by Jewish law, ethical responsibility, and communal solidarity.
The Torah warns us that we must be "punctilious" Numbers 28:2 in our commitments. This is why the parashah spends so much time detailing the communal rhythms of offerings: the daily morning and evening lambs, the extra offerings for Shabbat, the celebrations of Rosh Chodesh (the new moon), and the annual festivals of Pesach, Shavuot, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot Numbers 28:1-29:40.
Why are these dry, repetitive lists of flour, oil, wine, and animal sacrifices included here?
Because love is expressed through consistency.
A relationship is not built on occasional, dramatic bursts of emotion; it is built on the daily, weekly, and seasonal rhythms of showing up. The "regular burnt offering" (olat tamid) was brought every single day, morning and evening, without fail Numbers 28:3. It was the baseline heartbeat of the nation's relationship with God.
Your conversion process is about building this heartbeat. It is about moving past the initial "romance" of discovering Judaism and stepping into the quiet, disciplined beauty of its daily and weekly rhythms. It is about waking up and saying the Modeh/Modah Ani (morning prayer of gratitude). It is about stopping your week every Friday evening to light Shabbat candles. It is about aligning your internal clock with the ancient, lunar cycles of the Jewish calendar.
When you make these commitments, they cease to be "rules" that restrict you. Instead, they become the very structures that hold you, providing a sacred scaffolding upon which you can build a life of meaning, depth, and connection.
Lived Rhythm
Now, let us translate these lofty theological concepts into the concrete reality of your daily life. You are in the beginner-to-intermediate phase of your journey. This is the sweet spot of exploration, but it is also the time when you must begin establishing your own olat tamid—your regular, daily practice.
Your next concrete step is to design a "Covenantal Rhythm Plan" for the next month.
Do not try to take on all 613 mitzvot at once. That is a recipe for spiritual burnout, and no responsible rabbi would expect it of you. Instead, look at the rhythms outlined in Parashat Pinchas—the daily, the weekly, and the monthly—and choose one anchor in each category to practice with absolute consistency.
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[ THE DAILY ] [ THE WEEKLY ] [ THE MONTHLY ]
Morning/Evening Shabbat Sanctuary Rosh Chodesh Study
Connect with prayer Unplug and rest Align with the moon
1. The Daily Anchor (The Olat Tamid)
In Numbers 28:4, God commands: "You shall offer one lamb in the morning, and the other lamb you shall offer at twilight."
- Your Practice: Choose a morning and evening practice that takes no more than five minutes but is non-negotiable.
- In the morning: As soon as you wake up, sit on the edge of your bed and say the Modeh Ani (for men) or Modah Ani (for women), thanking God for restoring your soul to you. Follow this by washing your hands ritually (netilat yadayim).
- In the evening: Before you go to sleep, say the first paragraph of the Shema Deuteronomy 6:4-9. This simple act of declaring God's unity anchors your day in Jewish consciousness.
- The Goal: Consistency. Do this every day, regardless of whether you "feel" spiritual. You are training your soul to live in Jewish time.
2. The Weekly Peak (The Shabbat Offering)
In Numbers 28:9, the Torah introduces the additional offerings for the Sabbath. Shabbat is the crown of Jewish life; it is the ultimate boundary-making practice.
- Your Practice: Create a "Shabbat Sanctuary." If you have not yet begun keeping Shabbat fully, start by choosing a specific window of time—for example, from Friday candle lighting (18 minutes before sunset) until after dinner—where you completely unplug.
- Turn off your phone, your computer, and your television.
- Light two candles and recite the blessing.
- Pour a glass of kosher wine or grape juice, make the Kiddush (sanctification of the day), wash your hands, and say the Hamotzi blessing over two loaves of challah.
- Spend that evening reading Jewish books, talking with loved ones, or simply resting.
- The Goal: To experience Shabbat not as a list of restrictions (what you cannot do), but as a palace in time—a tangible taste of the World to Come.
3. The Monthly Marker (Rosh Chodesh)
Our parashah details the offerings for the "new moons" (Roshei Chodashim) Numbers 28:11. Rosh Chodesh is a minor holiday in the Jewish calendar, historically associated with women's renewal and the moon's cycle of waxing and waning.
- Your Practice: Mark the beginning of the new Hebrew month.
- Find a Jewish calendar (or download an app like CalJ or Hebcal) and note when the next Hebrew month begins.
- On the night of Rosh Chodesh, step outside, look up at the sliver of the new moon, and read the Hallel (psalms of praise, specifically Psalms 113-118) or spend 15 minutes studying the spiritual themes of that specific Hebrew month.
- The Goal: To break free from the linear, hyper-productive Gregorian calendar and start living in the cyclical, organic time of the Jewish people.
By practicing these three anchors, you are not just learning about Judaism; you are weaving its fibers into your nervous system. You are showing the beit din—and more importantly, yourself—that you are ready to carry out "all that has crossed your lips" Numbers 30:2.
Community
One of the most beautiful and challenging aspects of Judaism is that it cannot be practiced in isolation. There is no such thing as a "hermit Jew." Our covenant is communal.
In Numbers 27:16-17, as Moses prepares for his death, he pleads with God:
"Let G-d, Source of the breath of all flesh, appoint someone over the community who shall go out before them and come in before them... so that G-d’s community may not be like sheep that have no shepherd."
Moses understood that a community needs leadership, structure, and connection to survive. We cannot wander through the wilderness alone. We need guides, teachers, and companions.
If you are exploring conversion, you must find your "shepherd" and your "flock." You cannot complete this journey through books or internet forums alone. You need to feel the warmth—and sometimes the friction—of a real, living Jewish community.
Your Next Step: Find a Sponsoring Rabbi and a Chaver (Study Partner)
To move from the beginner stage to the intermediate stage of conversion, you must establish a relationship with a rabbi who can guide your learning and eventually sponsor you for the beit din.
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[ 1. RESEARCH ] [ 2. APPROACH ] [ 3. PARTNER ]
Find local synagogues Attend services and Find a study partner
and learn about their introduce yourself to learn and share
specific movements. to the rabbi. your journey with.
- Research Communities: Look at the synagogues in your area. Are they Reform, Conservative, Orthodox, or Reconstructionist? Read about these different movements. Each has its own approach to Jewish law, tradition, and the conversion process itself.
- Approach a Rabbi: Do not be afraid to reach out. Many people worry that the rabbi will reject them—indeed, there is an old myth that a rabbi must turn a prospective convert away three times (this is largely a historical custom, not a binding law, and most modern rabbis do not practice it). Send a polite, sincere email. Tell them who you are, how long you have been studying, and ask if you can schedule a brief meeting to discuss your interest in learning more about Judaism.
- Find a Chaver (Partner): Ask the rabbi if there is a "conversion class," an introductory Judaism course, or if they can pair you with a mentor or another student who is also on the path. Having a chaver—a friend with whom you can study, share your doubts, and celebrate your milestones—is incredibly valuable.
Remember, a good rabbi is not a gatekeeper trying to trip you up; they are a shepherd whose job is to guide you safely into the fold. Be honest with them about your doubts, your background, and your pace. Sincerity is the key that opens the door.
Takeaway
The path of gerut is not a path of passive assimilation. It is a path of active, courageous claiming.
When you read Parashat Pinchas, do not see yourself as an outsider looking through a window at an ancient, exclusive club. Instead, see yourself in the daughters of Zelophehad, standing tall before the assembly, refusing to let your spiritual portion be lost. See yourself in the daily lamb offered at twilight, showing up for God in the quiet consistency of your life. See yourself in the new census, waiting for the moment when your name is read aloud, and you are officially counted among the people of Israel.
The journey is long, and the commitments are real. The Torah does not hide the difficulties of the wilderness, nor does it promise that the transition will be seamless. But it does promise this: for those who step forward in sincerity, the covenant is a place of peace, life, and eternal inheritance.
May your steps be firm, your heart be bold, and your path be filled with the blessing of peace. Chazak chazak v'nitchazek—be strong, be strong, and let us strengthen one another.
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