An LGBTQ+ advocate and parent argues that years of growing acceptance for LGBTQ Orthodox Jews are being challenged by shifting political and cultural attitudes, and urges communities to prioritize compassion and inclusion.
For the past decade, I have been working with my colleagues at Eshel to increase acceptance of LGBTQ+ individuals in the Orthodox Jewish world. This is our organization’s mission: to achieve more embracing and validation of those in the queer world who are also religiously observant and just want to be accepted, to be able to observe and to have community.
For years, we were moving the needle steadily and finding more and more synagogues, rabbis, and communities ranging from those completely happy to have our LGBTQ+ Orthodox Jews in their community to those who were guarded and a bit reluctant, willing to learn and join in our work.
We were making progress, with 318 shuls, rabbis, and communities in our growing list of resources and places for those seeking community.
My colleagues and I knew from the beginning there would be challenges, setbacks, and places we still could not go. But after years of engaging in this important work and seeing progress, I am observing a reverse trend. Our world has become increasingly divided, politically polarized, socially conservative, and, sad to say, in some cases, less accepting.
A reversal after years of progress
Sadly, a political and cultural cloud has spread in recent years. I have had to help individuals and families move to different states in the United States due to legislation that would harm them and to Jewish communities that no longer were able to include them. This is especially true for our gender-diverse population.
I am being contacted more often to help heal those who are profoundly hurt by communities and rabbis who newly reject them. Simultaneously, I am often explaining to our rabbis, educators, and community leaders that it is even more important to find spaces that embrace and validate these individuals and families.
While meeting with varying degrees of success, I find myself sometimes interacting with shuls and rabbis who were previously very welcoming and are now suggesting that their congregation may not be the best place for an LGBTQ+ person. They cite the altered nature of their community within the context of these political and cultural changes.
As an educator, advocate, ally, and, yes, parent to four children, three of whom are LGBTQ+, I find this alarming. I am grateful that our children are healthy and doing well, with amazing Jewish communities around them, but every day I am painfully reminded that this is not always the case.
Many studies have documented that rejection of our LGBTQ+ community members by family and faith communities results in increased depression, anxiety, isolation, and so much else, including suicidal ideation and death by suicide. I know too many cases where suicide attempts or death by suicide have scarred and traumatized families and communities, or entire families have left shuls and communities they were part of for many years.
The human cost of rejection
How do we respond? Those of us who hold to the basic teaching that “every human being is created in the image of God” must remember and practice that dictum. This is a matter of saving lives, or pikuach nefesh in Hebrew. Medical science tells us that diverse genders and sexualities are part of the fabric of human beings. We have known this for decades, in spite of politicians and lawmakers who assert otherwise.
Our most basic religious teachings advise us to not judge each other, to respect differences, and not cause harm to others. Yet that is precisely what is happening in our world now. We must continue to speak respectfully to rabbis, leaders, and our communities while explaining the reality of our children, siblings, loved ones, and friends who are being harmed by exclusion and placed at increased risk. Our texts remind us that to save a life, one may set aside any commandment that proscribes an action. The sanctity of life surpasses virtually all other tenets in Judaism.
Consider that 10% to 15% of our general population is diverse in terms of sexuality, and 2%-3% with regard to gender diversity. We all have people in our families, communities, and congregations who are born this way. This is not a choice; it is how we are hard-wired.
Pikuach nefesh and communal responsibility
In situations where rabbis have told me that our LGBTQ+ observant Jews would do better belonging elsewhere, I ask that the rabbi be kind and caring and refer these people back to me or to other communities in their area, preferably with a direct connection to another rabbi.
I remember some time ago when a young man came out to his rabbi and was told to get his things and leave. Needless to say, this was devastating on many levels. I use this as a cautionary tale and remind our rabbis and community leaders that no matter what pressures are prevalent in their community, each and every person is a human being. No one wants to feel responsible for the death of another person.
Preserving openness and humanity
While I realize that some communities now feel less able to accept LGBTQ+ people, I am looking for kindness, for compassion and for us to remember as a collective that “all of Israel is tied to and responsible for one another.” The challenge is to match this idea with actions, such as ensuring that our synagogues are as welcoming as we say, including and speaking with our LGBTQ+ members and being willing to learn from them.
If we can hold onto this openness and humanity despite the political and cultural tides, perhaps we can preserve the progress that has been a hallmark of our work together.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media.