I was involved in many community
organizations, spent a year in Israel learning in yeshiva at B.M.T. I am not
sure why the nickname was “Best Meal in Town”, because it certainly was not. I
then went to Yeshiva University for a semester and was in therapy dealing with
some personal issues. I had a chance to work through some with Joseph Beyda may
he rest in peace. Unfortunately, he was diagnosed with brain cancer and passed
away before we could talk about dealing with being gay.
I dated a wonderful young woman from my
community and felt like my life was on the right track. I felt like she was the
one. But, I was having issues with the fact that I was constantly being
bombarded by thoughts of homosexuality. I knew she was attractive, but wasn’t
really sure if I was attracted to her. If I wasn’t attracted to her, then I
wouldn’t be attracted to anyone else of the female population. So I decided to
break it off with her and decided to find a therapist that would help me get
rid of my attraction to men. The process went on for two years and gave me
hope. Prior to that I was very depressed and somewhat suicidal.
At the end of this process I realized
that I wasn’t going to change and $24,000 later I was in the same position. I
am sure he meant well, but it gave me false hope. This false hope didn’t pan
out the way he said and only made me more depressed and more suicidal. I had to
figure something out.
I decided to seek the guidance of
rabbis that I looked up to. I went to Rabbi Norman Lamm, who was the president
and Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshiva University. I figured he might have an answer that
would give me hope. His answer was “just
pray.” I told him, “Rabbi, I have prayed deeply, got involved in many acts
of kindness, helped organize classes and minyans
(10 men+ pray together 3x a day) and did the best I could to be the best
Jew I could be.” His answer was “just
pray and it will all work out.” One can only imagine how disappointed,
angry and sad I was. I felt like I had been let down and didn’t know what to
do.
I went to a few other rabbis, in hopes
of finding an answer. Some might ask what answer was I looking for? Honestly, I
can tell you that I have no idea. I just wanted to know that God still loved me
and that I was not just damaged goods. I had deep “internalized homophobia” and hated who I was.
After that, I decided to find a
therapist that would help me accept who I was. I was down to the bare bones and
felt this was the only way I could stay alive. Some people cannot relate to my
experience. Some people simply feel that it is like any sin and that we have to
control ourselves dealing with these demons. To me, this was not about sex but
rather survival. I was able to start a long and painful process of
self-acceptance.
I moved to New York City and started to
live my life. I still felt very damaged and truly believed that God gave up on
me. God didn’t answer my prayers and I felt God hated me. I am not exaggerating
when I say that I felt this way. God had always been my ally and source of
comfort and now he became the enemy. If God hated me, then I hated him. I became
extremely anti-religious.
I started drinking and doing drugs over
the next 3-4 years. I felt that if I was such a damaged soul, that I didn’t
deserve to live. So these years were not suicidal in the traditional sense,
rather were “years of slow suicide.”
I was in a place in my life that I figured I was gay, so I am not going to get
married, not going to have children and had no reason not to party till I die.
I thought I would be dead by 30 and this is what I deserved.
These years were a very dark period for
me. I wish I could say that I was capable of better, but the way I felt about
who I was just made this self-fulfilling prophecy come to fruition. I was going
down hill faster than I could have ever imagined. It eventually got so bad that
it caught the attention of some people that were in contact with me. An
intervention was done and I found myself in rehab. I was lost and confused. I
didn’t really understand how I got to that point.
I will skip the in between, because
they were not the most impactful. They were however survival years that helped
me build up my self-esteem and allowed me to reconnect with a higher power. I
was able to truly fully embrace who I was. It was a struggle, but eventually I
recovered from a state of hopelessness and began to believe I was put on this
earth for a reason and that God loved and cared about me. This wasn’t the God I
was brought up with, but rather just God that wasn’t there to judge me or hurt
me. Judaism was still not in the picture. I
still felt that Judaism only made me feel worse about whom I was. Why would I
want to be a part of a system that rejects who I am?
It is important to mention an
experience I had after “coming out” 14 years ago. I was visiting for one of the
holidays and went to synagogue. According to tradition I went up with the rest
of the cohanim (priests) to bless the
congregation as was customary during one of the prayers. In the audience were a
few people that yelled out in rejection of my going up for this honor. They
were extremely rude, hurtful and made me feel like I was the scum of the earth.
This was the synagogue that I grew up and where my religious life began. People
need to think of the consequences of their words. The rabbi certainly didn’t
feel like they did, but they were the loud voices and that's what my takeaway
was.
This experience filled me with such resentment
and hurt. I never went back to this or any other community synagogues again.
This was the straw that broke the camels back. All of my thoughts were becoming
reality. I was convinced that people were talking about me in disparaging ways
and now I knew it. The rabbi didn’t really see what was going on, but just
asked for quiet. I was embarrassed and shamed publicly. Why would I ever want
to walk into a synagogue again?
Fast forward to a year and a half ago.
I had come to a prestigious university in Washington, D.C. to attain my
bachelors’ degree in Psychology. It wasn’t easy to come to back to school in my
mid 30’s and attend classes with 18-21 year olds.
A friend I had made at school invited
me to the George Washington University Hillel building for Shabbat dinner (Jewish ritual dinner
on a Friday night). I apprehensively went and was surprised. They had three
different minyans (prayer groups) for
the Reform, Conservative and Orthodox sects of Judaism. I never saw this
before. Usually a synagogue is one denomination. I met Rabbi Yoni Kaiser-Bleuth, who studied
at the Jewish Theological Seminary for his smicha
(rabbinical ordination). He was traditional Conservative and such a welcoming
rabbi.
I shared with him my sexual orientation
and it didn’t faze him at all. He cared about me as an individual and accepted
me for who I was. This rabbi showed me love, compassion and acceptance. He saw
something there and knew how to bring it out. We had many conversations about life;
Judaism, homosexuality and he understood where I was coming from. I felt at
home is the best way to put it, although the food definitely wasn’t my moms.
This year I moved off campus and have
been trying different places within the Jewish community to see where I felt
most comfortable. I tried a Modern Orthodox synagogue, though not the most
modern I have seen. I tried an independent minyan
group and went to the Moishe house in DC. I just wasn’t getting the
experience I craved.
Each experience builds on the next. Because of my Hillel experience, I decided to take classes on campus in Judaism with **Dr. Robert Eisen. Because these classes deepened my appreciation for Judaism, that opened me up to exploring Judaism even further. Because of my exploring Judaism, I was able to find a synagogue that I really like. I have found the quote "Life is a journey, not a destination" is a living truth.
A few months ago, ***Rabbi Steve Greenberg
(the first openly gay Orthodox rabbi) had come to D.C. I have known him for
years, but haven’t seen him in about 12 +years. He went to a congregation at
the edge of D.C./Silver Spring, MD. The congregation is called “Ohev Shalom-
The National Synagogue.” It is a modern orthodox synagogue with a very
progressive, yet orthodox rabbi. I didn’t think much of it, except that it was
nice to know that there was a congregation that was inclusive and hosted him.
A few weeks later,*Rabbi Shmuel Herzfeld
(http://rabbishmuel.com) delivered a
sermon on a Shabbat morning after prayers to his congregation about “Same Sex Marriage in America: What Does Orthodox
Judaism Say?” (http://www.ostns.org/Recent_Dvar_Torah.php).
I heard that he had spoken at the pulpit about it and decided to read the
transcript of his sermon. I was shocked that an orthodox rabbi spoke about the
topic and even more shocked about what he said. The link is posted above and I
highly encourage you to read it in its entirety. It is an amazing outlook on
the topic and he explains why Jews need to accept our gay brothers and sisters.
After
feeling overwhelmed with emotion and happiness, I decided to go to his shul on
a Shabbat morning. To my surprise they serve a free delicious meal every
Shabbat at the synagogue to help encourage and build community. I had a chance
to meet the rabbi and enjoyed my experience. So, I decided to come back the
next week and the next. The rabbi addresses me by name and has a smile and
greeting every time I come. He knows I am gay and he has some of the Rabbi Yoni
love, compassion and
acceptance that I felt when I first walked back into Judaism at Hillel. It’s interesting
that this is also the synagogue that Rabbi Yoni attends. They also have a few
congregants that are openly gay and accepted as part of the Jewish tribe. The way people in a congregation treat someone is very important. It is not only the rabbi that keeps someone coming back, but the community.
This value of inclusion and acceptance
is what keeps me coming back. If the rabbi kept quiet and didn’t take the
opportunity to speak about this, I would not be attending his synagogue. I have
come to some of shiurim (torah
classes),daily minyans and weekly
Shabbat services and lunch. I can’t predict what I will feel in the future, but
for now I have been able to return to my roots. Today, I feel a part of and not
discarded. Today, I feel I have a place in Judaism.
*Rabbi Shmuel Herzfeld is also the author of: Fifty-Four Pick Up: Fifteen Minute Inspirational Torah Lessons
**Dr. Robert Eisen is the author of: The Peace and Violence of Judaism: From the Bible to Modern Zionism
***Rabbi Steve Greenberg is the author of: Wrestling with God and Men: Homosexuality in the Jewish Tradition
*Rabbi Shmuel Herzfeld is also the author of: Fifty-Four Pick Up: Fifteen Minute Inspirational Torah Lessons
**Dr. Robert Eisen is the author of: The Peace and Violence of Judaism: From the Bible to Modern Zionism
***Rabbi Steve Greenberg is the author of: Wrestling with God and Men: Homosexuality in the Jewish Tradition
This is truly inspiring. It seems we all have a place in spirituality and religion, that is wonderful!
ReplyDeleteA community will pay a high price, measured in human suffering, when it forces people to repress their innate sexality and stifle their desires and passions.
ReplyDeleteA healthy community is one that encourages people to be honest with themselves and celebrates, includes and accepts the full diversity of every single person, unconditionally.
There can be no compromise.
Thanks for sharing your experience and most importantly of all, stay true to yourself.
Michael.