Reposted with permission from the comments section of Emes Ve-Emunah
I too fell in love with Judaism over a decade ago now. I spent three years learning and growing before I was finally converted. About six months after my conversion I was introduced to my husband, who is Israeli. We got married in the States and moved back to Israel together. We were married by a diyan from the RCA, who also provided me with extra paperwork for the rabbinical authorities in Israel. After we arrived in Israel, we went to have my conversion and our marriage “recognized” in the eyes of the Rabbanute. This was the single most humiliating experience of my life.
I was standing there, long skirt, long sleeves, hair wrapped up in a scarf, with my new, kippa sruga- wearing husband, in front of three heredi rabbis. We also had two of my husband’s kippa sruga- wearing friends who were there to “testify” that we are married and that they were aware of my conversion.
The rabbiam didn’t make eye contact with me. They spoke to my husband as if I wasn’t even in the room and basically compared me to a whore (and for the record, I was a virgin when I got married) and asked him why he’d bother marrying a convert. I looked at my husband, his mouth open, not sure how to answer them. Were these even serious questions?
I broke down into tears. The rabbiam were shocked. Maybe they didn’t think I understood, I don’t know. Maybe they thought I wouldn’t question them. I looked all three of them in the eyes and asked them, “Do you really think you represent anything having to do with God?” And I walked out.
A few weeks later we received two letters in the mail. My conversion and our marriage were officially recognized on their “holy” eyes. To this day we both regret going to them for their recognition. To ask for their recognition was to give them authority.