Photo Credit: Jewish Press

After graduating high school, Hanna left her native country, Lithuania, and went to England, where she worked and saved money to travel the world. Coming from the Soviet Union, where she had been brought up on a purely atheistic ideology, she was ready to discover what was out there that would fill the gaping hole that her childhood education had left.

Her first destination was India, where she volunteered for the Mother Theresa Charity organization in Calcutta, in a program that provided aid to the poor of the city. Hanna wasn’t sure what was true and what was false, but she felt that if you do something good for another person, that would bring a positive change in the world that was surely a path to truth. Yet, after a few months of aid work, she decided to break away from the Christian organization sensing that another path would be closer to the truth.




She decided to move on to a Buddhist town. She went to Dharamsala, in the south, a major destination for spiritual seekers set in the shadow of towering mountains. Loosely translated, the name means “spiritual dwelling” or “sanctuary.” Will I find sanctuary among this city’s winding roads and tall cedars? She wondered. Will this be the place to guide me in my search?

She was entering her fourth month in India. She had collected various teachings and embraced the cultural trends she was experiencing, but nothing had yet resonated with her. The only religion that had ever spoken to her was Judaism. She had dabbled a bit in Judaism online and liked what she had learned. For some reason, though she had no direct connection to Jews or Judaism, tucked away somewhere in her consciousness was the story of the Jews and their recent establishment of the Jewish State in Israel. She was also aware of the longtime Jewish historical presence in Lithuania – and the now glaring lack thereof – and this cast a curious specter over her spiritual search. There was logic to Judaism, she sensed. But Hanna thought of Jews as a closed club. Either you were born a Jew or you weren’t. If you weren’t, well, that was the end of the story. When she explored Judaism online, she liked what she was learning, but thought, Oh, well, what can I do about it? It’s not meant to be.

One day Hanna was walking through the center of a village near Dharamsala called Bagshu, and her mind kept returning to the Jewish teachings she had learned from her online research. One G-d, the Sinai experience – it all seemed so sound and rational. Besides, even if she wanted to forget about it, being surrounded by so many Jews was a constant reminder (Dharamsala is such a popular destination for Israeli travelers that most signs in town are written in English, Hindi, and Hebrew!).

Still, she was more than a little surprised when a man stopped her and asked, “Are you Jewish?” Her knee-jerk answer was “Yes, I am” – likely prompted by a combination of wishful thinking and curiosity. “Tonight is the first night of Chanukah,” he said. “Would you like to join us at our center for the lighting of the menorah?” Hanna knew what Chanukah was from her research and eagerly agreed. “Yeah, that would be interesting, sure. How do I get there?” He gave her the address, and later that night she showed up at the Chabad House.

“There’s a nice size crowd here,” she said to Lisa, whom she had been introduced to in the kitchen. They’d been chatting while they waited for the program to begin. “Oh, it gets much busier than this,” she said. “Now, in the winter, it’s quieter than usual.” Hanna followed the small group that filed into the lounge to hear the rabbi’s class. He began with a fascinating true story of a spy from Lebanon. The story rattled her.

The spy was a Muslim named Yassin, and his town was caught in the midst of terrible political strife. Hezbollah, backed by Iran, was slowly taking control and strangling the life of the town’s residents. After witnessing the torture and murder of members of his family, he did the unexpected and joined the terror group with the sole intention of attacking back from within. He collected information on Hezbollah and other enemy groups and furtively thwarted their plans. He was motivated at first by revenge and disgust with Hezbollah, but later, when his missions brought him in contact with Israel, his attitudes changed toward this people that he had been brought up to think of as the enemy. When his cover was broken, he was imprisoned, tortured, and sentenced to death. He decided then that he could not be part of a nation that was characterized by violence and intolerance.

During those dark days, Yassin thought about the lessons he had received as a child. His father, who was educated and peace loving, had taught Yassin several languages, including Hebrew – which he would eventually put to excellent use – and a religious uncle exposed him to stories from the Bible. One point stood out from those stories: in contrast to the Koran, the great figures of the Torah were not beyond reproach. There was always room to be better. More than that, more was expected from a leader than anyone else. Yassin had many questions, but one idea spurred him on, which was that “I don’t know” exists in Judaism. He concluded that this position could come only from a source of truth – that its leaders were strong enough and secure enough to admit that they didn’t know everything. He decided that if he ever came out of this alive, he would become a Jew. After a heart-stopping escape, he continued to sabotage the Hezbollah’s planned attacks and army positions in coordination with the Shin Bet. He made it through the border to Israel and ultimately fulfilled his dream to convert to Judaism.

Hanna was transfixed, not only because the tale was gripping, but because this was the first time she had heard about anyone converting to Judaism. She’d been unaware this was an option. Suddenly she was overcome with a wave of guilt. I’m also a spy. She’d come to the Chabad House under the pretense of being Jewish. What would happen when they found out the truth? Eventually, I won’t have to hide the fact that I’m not really Jewish, she thought. Maybe there’s a chance for me.

It was with this hope that Hanna began showing up at the Chabad House every day to attend classes given by the rabbi and his wife. She also started helping them out at the center. What she learned was the most interesting and real of anything she had ever learned before. Every day she said to herself, Maybe I should tell them I’m not Jewish, quickly followed by Maybe I’ll tell them tomorrow – fearing she wouldn’t be able to come anymore if they knew. Finally, after several weeks, she couldn’t hold it back anymore. She told them her whole story, and it was a relief to unburden herself from the secret she had been holding inside.

Any look of disappointment in the rav’s face turned to sympathy as he acknowledged the difficult situation she had been in. Determined to help her, the rav went into action. He helped her plan her next steps toward her goal of converting to Judaism with a kosher beis din. Her best option, he explained, was back in England. Hanna returned to England and after two and a half years, became part of the Jewish nation. Now, working and volunteering in Israel she continues pursuing what is true and knows ever more clearly that if you do good for another person, that’s a path of truth that would bring a positive change in the world.