.gif)
Israel's religious
gays battle for acceptance
From the Web, May 15,
2011
JERUSALEM (AP) — A once
unimaginable movement is emerging from within Israel's insular Orthodox Jewish
community: homosexuals demanding to be accepted and embraced, no matter
what the Bible says.
Living alongside a secular majority that has largely embraced the Western gay
rights movement, Israel's religious gays are increasingly rejecting age-old
dictates to ignore their attraction, abstain from sex or undergo therapy that
supposedly will make them straight.
A decade ago, says Yuval Cherlow, a heterosexual Orthodox rabbi, he would have
dismissed the phenomenon as "two or four crazy people that are assimilating into
Western world culture."
Then he was invited to a meeting of Orthodox homosexuals. More than 50
people turned up, nearly all graduates of Orthodox religious seminaries.
Cherlow said he began to realize the issue had to be addressed, and he now
advises religious gay groups.
In Orthodox Judaism, as with traditional streams of Islam and Christianity,
homosexuality is generally frowned upon. Gay observant Jews may be
ostracized by their families, while in the Muslim world, gays can face violence.
In Iran, for instance, homosexuality is punishable by death.
Yet in Israel, homosexuals openly serve in the army, same-sex couples get some
benefits, the country markets itself as a gay-friendly tourist destination, and
Jerusalem has an annual gay parade. More liberal streams of Judaism
embrace gay couples and even gay rabbis.
Now, the idea that one can be both gay and religious is catching on even at the
fringes of Orthodoxy, a socially conservative, entrenched culture that prides
itself on its differences from the modern secular world. Today, there are
gay Orthodox prayer groups, support services and a large web presence.
In March, a religious gay group called Havruta celebrated Purim at a
gay-friendly nightclub in central Jerusalem with a reading of the Megillah, the
traditional scroll read on this Jewish religious holiday, drawing implicit
parallels between the persecution of Jews in ancient Persia and the struggle of
Jewish gays against intolerance today.
The event attracted about 40 yarmulke-clad men, mostly in their 20s and early
30s, and a handful of women. Like secular Israelis who celebrate Purim by
dressing up, they donned elaborate costumes and sipped beer.
But religious gays know that to be taken seriously by rabbinical authorities,
they must carefully frame their demands within the boundaries of Halacha, or
traditional Jewish law. Most steer clear of asking for religious
recognition for their relationships.
As a result, the movement is fractured and bogged down by internal clashes over
where to draw the line between respecting tradition and appeasing intolerance.
Most conservative is decade-old Atzat Nefesh, "soul counseling," the first
Israeli group to openly address same-sex attraction within the religious world.
The group operates a hotline and website, and believes same-sex attraction can
be overcome by so-called conversion therapy.
Its CEO, Rabbi Shlomo Goldreich, claims it works for more than 80 percent of
those the group refers to therapists. But critics note that not all of its
providers are licensed or trained, and that all major medical and psychological
associations reject conversion therapy.
"We know of three people who tried, and eventually took their lives," said Ron
Yosef, an openly gay Orthodox rabbi from the coastal city of Netanya.
In 2008 Yosef created Hod, a Hebrew acronym meaning "religious homosexuals," and
compiled a referral list of therapists who are religious, licensed and compliant
with modern mental health guidelines. The group's principles say gays
shouldn't be blamed, ostracized, forced to marry women, or discouraged from
observing other Jewish laws.
Yosef said Hod has received 3,700 phone and email inquiries — the vast majority
from people 25 or younger. He added that no one left his congregation when
he declared his sexuality in April 2009.
Although Yosef fervently rejects the notion that gays should be "cured" or
ostracized, he also insists that Jewish laws be respected and that gays abstain
from biblically forbidden sex acts and same-sex marriage.
That approach has gained praise from some conservatives who previously avoided
addressing homosexuality, and support from of Aharon Feldman, a prominent
ultra-Orthodox rabbi. But it also stirs criticism from liberals that Yosef
is caving in to homophobic rabbis.
A third group is Havruta ("fellowship"), which is trying to create a more
pluralistic sense of community by holding social, cultural and religious events
for Orthodox gays such as the Purim event.
"We stay religious because that's who we are, the way we were raised and want to
raise our children," said Daniel Jonas, a 29-year-old board member. "But
we won't stay in the closet, because we want to live."
Havruta considers itself a religious organization, but accepts all who respect
Orthodoxy. It says more than 400 people subscribe to its email list.
Some, however, think Havruta goes too far. One of its founders recently
broke away and founded a group called Kamoha ("like you").
The man, requesting anonymity, said that although Havruta was his home for
years, he felt estranged once it started pushing Orthodox Judaism's boundaries
by participating in a mixed-gender prayer group and Jerusalem's gay parade.
"I don't say that you need to stay in the closet and hide it all your life, but
there is nothing to be proud of," he said.
Kamoha has about 100 members on its email list and is averaging 25 attendees at
events.
In March it launched a therapy fund to help young Jews identify if they can
become straight — and if not, to help them cope with their homosexuality.
It also hopes to offer a matchmaking service for gay men and lesbians seeking a
normative family.
Havruta and other groups consider those types of services to be potentially
harmful to the cause and bordering on self-hating.
One factor common to all the groups navigating the intersection between
homosexuality and Orthodox Judaism in Israel is a robust Internet presence, with
web forums, email lists and online libraries. The rise of the Internet has
offered an inexpensive, uncensored and anonymous tool to organize a population
that knows that being publicly outed could lead to rejection by their families
or communities.
"These are people in our society who are really in trouble," Cherlow said.
"This is a new question. We didn't face it before, and as rabbis, we are
searching for the real thing to say."
|
