Of the different denominations of Judaism, such as Reform, Conservative and Orthodox, a single synagogue in town serves everybody.

“Our synagogue, as our rabbi likes to say, is ‘reconformodox,’” Dennis Miller said, while chuckling.

With an infectious laugh and warm voice, Miller, the manager of internal controls for the MU system, considers himself to follow a mixture of Reform and Conservative Judaism. However, this was not always the case.

Reared in a Lutheran home, Miller, 60, had plans to become a minister to appease his mother. Pushed toward the seminary, he earned a degree in accounting instead. Although he stayed with fundamentalist Christian religions, a turning point occurred in the car coming home from church one Sunday. His wife, whose parents were not very religious, mentioned that according to their beliefs, if her father, who was a good business and family man, died that day, he would go to hell. Although he believed in the core underpinnings of Christianity, Miller did not believe in this idea of the afterlife.

Mary Hartigan, another member of Miller’s synagogue, Congregation Beth Shalom, had similar ideas about ethics and the afterlife.

“In Judaism, you do the right thing because it was the right thing to do, not because you’ll be rewarded in heaven,” she said. “It’s the here and now, and you’re not promised a hereafter.”

Hartigan, 56, decided to convert to Judaism from Roman Catholicism at age 32 after a bad marriage left her wanting to do something for herself. “I had no friends left,” she said. “It was basically starting over.”

After seeing in a local paper that a new rabbi was in town, she called Hillel, the center for Jewish programming on campus, where the synagogue used to be located. She asked if there were any classes for people who wanted to learn more about Judaism, and the previous rabbi, Harvey Rosenfeld, answered the phone and told her to come and talk to him.

“We started studying together and taking part in different social activities,” Hartigan said. “But I always had a problem, since I was a little kid, being convinced that there was a God.”

Although she continued to question the presence of God, the new rabbi, Yossi Feintuch, helped her finally believe in God, but in an indirect way.

“His own spirituality is very impressive,” Hartigan said. “It’s sort of the way he appreciates God at work in small things in the universe, like the way he sees pets as a gift to make our lives meaningful by caring for another creature.”

Although Hartigan considered not having religious feelings for a period of time, she never looked for any religion aside from Judaism, particularly other types of Christianity.

“I knew I didn’t have the right kind of faith for any kind of Christianity,” she said. “I have never been able to believe that Jesus was God. I remember thinking in third grade, ‘That’s a nice story. Now how are you going to prove it?’”

Miller, unlike Hartigan, had always continued to believe there was a God. However, he also found faults in his religious background that caused him to question the Christian faith.

“I don’t believe in the concept of original sin,” he said. “What you do here on earth is what matters.”

Outside, the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile bumbled down the street, and Miller let out a loud guffaw, momentarily distracted from the issue of the Bible. After apologizing and recomposing himself, he remembered why he chose Judaism rather than other religions.

“It was like a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle, and all the pieces fell into place for me,” he said of his conversion in 1990. “It wasn’t one of these lights flashing, earth shaking all of that. I just knew I was where I should’ve been.”

Like Miller, Hartigan knew Judaism was right for her. “I think that it’s because Judaism has never said it was the only way, the exclusive way to approach God,” she said.

One reason why the religion was so attractive to her was because most of the practice is in the home. However, she understands that Judaism might not appeal to everyone. “Some people really need to think there’s an afterlife, but it’s not a fundamental part of the religion,” said Hartigan. The faith is appealing, she said, because it does not say that there is only one way to be ethical.

Both Hartigan’s and Miller’s families have reacted differently to their conversions. Although Hartigan’s parents were furious upon learning of her choice, Miller’s were simply disappointed. In addition, Miller’s wife and children are still Christian, which provides some obstacles in their relationship.

“My daughter is tolerant of it,” he said. “My son understands more and is somewhat supportive. Friday nights, my son and his boys come over and do Shabbat.”

Miller has also had to make compromises with his faith. He does not keep strict Kosher, though he would like to. He does not eat pork or shellfish, but if his wife is grilling pork chops, for example, he will grill a chicken breast right beside it, instead of using a completely different grill.

Hartigan, who met her husband, Rick, through Hillel, has an easier time managing the household because they both practice Judaism. The lack of affection she received from her own parents was made better by the welcoming nature of Rick’s parents.

Rick’s mother, who became one of her best friends, offered her support when her own family could not fully embrace her choice. “I found out after I converted that my parents were very anti-Semitic,” she said. “There were some very hurtful and destructive things that were said or done.”

Despite their different backgrounds, both Hartigan and Miller found comfort and reinforcement in their faith from far-away places.

Recalling his time as a banker in the Virgin Islands, Miller remembered talking to his boss, who was Hindu, about religion, and both came to the same conclusion about their faith. “The more observant I am, the more I adhere to the ritual, life seems to go so much better for me,” he said. “It could be that I just feel better about myself.”

Hartigan, on the other hand, recalled her visit to Auschwitz in March 2007. “I was walking where the generation before me had walked,” she said. “I was walking in the same place where they made selections where the cattle cars unloaded people.” She motioned with two hands going in opposite directions about the fate of people who came to the concentration camp. “This way is life, and this way is death.”

Her visit to Auschwitz reinforced her faith in God because the camps in World War II were the work of humans, not the work of God.

For Miller, it took about 20 years to find the right religion. “I would’ve liked to come to the ultimate decision quicker,” he said. “I feel like I’ve wasted a lot of time.”

Despite a period of searching, both Hartigan and Miller eventually found Judaism to be the best religion for them.

Hartigan stared out the window, her brown eyes looking solemn behind her gold-rimmed glasses, as if she were connecting her memories.

“It’s the best thing I could’ve done,” she said.