Published by Targum, distributed by Feldheim
There is an anecdote, probably apocryphal, about a Rosh
Mesivta who was teaching the gemora that states that
Jewish identity depends on the female line. Hearing this, one
of his students, so the story goes, fell onto the floor in a
dead faint. On regaining consciousness, this student went
straight to the Rov who took immediate steps to arrange for
his conversion.
Whenever someone tells this story, one of the listeners
inevitably asks, "Was it really like that? Didn't the yeshiva
student say he wanted a day or two to think it over, to come
to terms with the fact that all of a sudden he might eat what
he wanted, do what he wanted to on Shabbos and so forth?"
Many observant and semi-observant Jews are fascinated by
geirim. Those who fascinate them are not the ones who
converted for reasons of marriage, or because they were
Russian immigrants who want to feel part of Israeli society.
The ones who captivate their interest are those who converted
totally lesheim shomayim, so as to become part of the
Chosen People, in order to be close to their Maker, to serve
Him in the best possible way. These, by definition, are
people who appreciate that the privileges that are the Jewish
lot far outweight the duties.
For born Jews, geirim bring to the fore many questions
about their own selves. Are they serving as they should? Are
they fully grateful for what they received as part of their
birthright, for their Jewish identity, when others have to
fight hard and long to be granted this privilege? How would
they react if they found themselves in the position of this
yeshiva student?
Ahuvah/Dolores Gray is a person who fought hard and long to
be granted the privilege to be a Jew. And when we meet her in
the pages of her book, it is clear that for her, the truth is
obvious. And the corollary is: Why should it be less obvious
to anyone else?
A modern expression sometimes used for geirim is "Jews
by choice." Most Jews are people who were born Jewish; some
are people who opted to become Jewish. But Ahuvah does not
seem to be just a Jewess by choice. She is a Jewess by
conviction, a Jewess for whom there was no other option, a
Jewess by virtue of her own internal dynamics.
Dolores had a full life before she became Ahuvah. Her
background was African-American. Her grandparents were
sincerely G-d-fearing sharecroppers. As an adult, she lived a
comfortable middle class existence, worked as an airline
stewardess, ran her own business, and was ordained as a
minister of the Church.
But she was willing -- eager -- to give this all up. She now
lives in a modest top floor apartment in Jerusalem's Bayit
Vegan neighborhood. Her financial situation is nothing like
what it was. But for her, it was obviously worth it.
My Sister, the Jew is the story of Ahuvah/Dolores'
journey through life, or at least through most of the first
half of it. (As she is now in her fifties, hopefully, she is
still not yet halfway there.) It is the story of grandparents
and parents who care for her, of loving siblings, of a
supportive background, of a person who "walked with G-d"
throughout her life, and it is the story of what it is that
makes a person realize she must have stood at Mount Sinai. It
is the story of the forming of a Jewess.
Ahuvah's color does not make her stand out in a country where
there is a sizable Ethiopian immigrant community. People with
black skin are, nevertheless, fairly few and far between
among residents of chareidi areas. "How come you're
still black?" the small son of a friend asked her when he
heard she had immersed in a mikve in order to
convert.
Ahuvah brings a very refreshing look at Jewish practices. For
example, "The next morning, I was awakened by a lot of noise.
Hammers were banging all over the place. I looked out the
window and saw little huts sprung up everywhere. So that's
a succah! I marveled. They're gorgeous!"
And further down the same page:
"The culmination of the holidays was Simchas Torah. It was in
some way the most exhilirating day of the holiday period. The
singing and dancing around the Torah reminded me of a
favorite Bible story of King David dancing around the Ark of
the Covenant after it had been retaken from the
Philistines."
This zest for all things Jewish is apparent throughout the
later pages of the book, the pages where Ahuvah decides on
conversion, attempts conversion, studies for it, has her
application regarded as very suspect -- and finally achieves
conversion. For her, everything is new and novel, not only
the first time she experiences it, but again and again, year
after year -- the way it should be for us all -- for all her
brother and sister Jews.
