BANGOR – Time was, many Jews considered dietary restrictions, skullcaps and other Jewish traditions outmoded.

That weariness gave birth to Reform Judaism at the end of the 19th century.

“Judaism had become stuck – unable to deal with modernity,” Lawrence Milder, Reform rabbi at Bangor’s Congregation Beth El, said. “But that’s not where we’re at now.”

Over the past 20 years, Reform Jews – members of America’s largest, most liberal branch of Judaism – have returned in soaring numbers to traditions they once abandoned.

This reclamation of ritual heritage, Milder said, is the result of Reform Jews recognizing that “we have not been exploring the full richness of our own tradition.”

One byproduct of this exploration is that Reform Judaism is attracting more converts – non-Jews drawn to Judaism for its traditions.

Noah Nesin, a Mattawamkeag resident, converted to Judaism in 1992.

“Tradition,” he said, “is something that I had wanted all my life, and from a very young age I had read a lot and been attracted to things that are Jewish.”

Nesin’s father was Jewish, but his childhood was entirely secular, he said. Officially, he said, that did not make him Jewish by Reform standards, which require at least one Jewish parent and a Jewish upbringing.

“There was no conversion policy,” Nesin said, but he derived personal satisfaction from undergoing the formal conversion process.

Shoshana Perry, then-rabbi at Congregation Beth El in Bangor, introduced Nesin to a wide scope of Jewish observances. The process was an “ongoing, evolving discussion,” recalled Nesin, and under Perry’s direction he increasingly incorporated Jewish practices into his life.

Nesin found he “displayed a strong affinity for the traditions,” which he attributed, at least in part, to a desire “to make sure that part of our heritage wasn’t lost.”

Nesin’s conversion ceremony in October 1992 at Beth El reflected his affinity for ritual. The ceremony began with immersion in a mikveh, a ritual bath. He then sat before a bet din, a panel of learned Jews convened to question converts. The bet din, comprising Perry and two congregants, engaged Nesin in philosophical discussions and talked with him about his path to Judaism.

The rituals, he said, deepened his spiritual experience. “There is a value to those kind of formal processes,” said Nesin, suggesting that rituals help lend expression to emotions.

Nesin’s experience is familiar to Rabbi Ruth Smith, who presides over Beth Israel synagogue in Bath, which is unaffiliated with any particular Jewish movement.

“Converts really appreciate a traditional approach to conversion itself,” she said. “They are taking a big step, and it is important for them to mark it in a big way.”

That was Marisa Weinstein’s feeling when she converted at Congregation Beth El three years ago, under the guidance of Milder. Now a Hartland resident, Weinstein was raised in Florida by her Russian Jewish father and Catholic Cuban mother. Her upbringing was, unsurprisingly, an amalgamated affair.

“I was baptized Catholic, but grew up with matzo ball soup and knishes,” she said, referring to typical Jewish dishes.

“When you have a Jewish last name, people consider you a Jew,” Weinstein said. But it was important to her not just to be nominally Jewish, but to affirm her faith. After her sister underwent the process, Weinstein began to consider conversion.

She approached Milder, who proposed a “conversion curriculum,” she said. He suggested she begin with small steps, such as lighting candles on Shabbat, the Jewish sabbath. Gradually Milder introduced her to more rituals, and Weinstein enrolled in his adult study courses.

When both Milder and Weinstein felt she was ready, in April 1998, Weinstein bathed in the mikveh. Then, with her whole family present, she confirmed her faith during a Shabbat service at the synagogue. The ceremony, she said, was “affirming,” the culmination of a lifelong process of spiritual investigation.

“Going through the process [of conversion],” Weinstein said, “I’ve learned to really enjoy the beauty of Judaism,” something she looks forward to sharing with her new daughter, Michaela.

Jewish parentage influenced both Nesin and Weinstein’s decisions to convert. Judaism, however, attracts people for a variety of reasons, said Susan Carvuto, the Reform rabbi at Augusta’s Temple Beth El.

“Many times, of course, it is marriage to a Jew,” she said, “and very often not just future marriage to a Jew but people already married to a Jew. People say, ‘I’ve been a de facto Jew – now I want to be official.'”

Other times, Carvuto said, “there are people who are just spiritual seekers, and the Jewish community and the Jewish traditions feel very warm and inviting to them.”

Whatever the motivations, the Reform movement’s inclusivity makes it “the door of choice for the largest amount of [Jewish] converts,” Milder said.

Milder and Carvuto each said several individuals a year come to them to open that door. Smith estimated that each year she assists in several reform conversions at South Portland’s Congregation Bet Ha’am.

Together, Maine’s three Reform congregations convert approximately 10 people annually. Given Maine’s small Jewish population, such numbers support Milder’s claim that “conversion to Judaism is at an all-time high.”The nationwide surge in conversions prompted the Reform movement’s rabbinical leadership, the Central Conference of American Rabbis, to formulate conversion guidelines at its annual meeting in June in Monterrey, Calif.

Those guidelines encourage rabbis to emphasize tradition as a key component of converts’ religious education and their conversion ceremonies.

The recommendations are a marked departure from the Reform movement’s origins. The emphasis on tradition, however, is “descriptive of what’s already going on” at reform synagogues such as those in Maine, said Rabbi Paul Menitoff, executive vice president of the Central Conference and former visiting rabbi at Congregation Beth El in Bangor.

In addition to suggesting new components to conversion, the Central Conference also agreed to make conversion more accessible. It voted to abandon an ancient tradition calling rabbis to refuse potential converts three times to test their sincerity.

Still, rabbis will not be pounding the pavement for proselytes anytime soon.

“We are simply proud of who we are, and we would love for others to explore our religion if they want to,” Milder said.

“It does not make you a better person to be a Jew, we do not believe we are saving souls,” Milder said. “The Mishnah [an ancient Jewish commentary] states that there will be a place in the world to come for the righteous of all people. There is no existential reason for Jews to try and gain converts.”

And because Jews do not court converts, said Milder, it makes conversion even more meaningful for converts and their communities.

“It is an honor in Judaism to choose to be a Jew,” Milder said. And for congregants, he said, “It is inspiring to see someone choosing to be like them, to be a Jew.”