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Gay people are everywhere. Everywhere. - promoted by Rosi
It had been rumored that more than 250 Hasidim were coming yesterday to oppose our rally and lobby day for marriage equality. In the end, about 20 of them showed up, while we got more than 700 people on our side, as you know, including so many of you.
By the way, most of the Hasidim there, ie the people who wear black hats and coats, are not rabbis as some may have thought - that's merely their customary dress. Our side, in fact, had way more rabbis in support, including rabbis from the Reform and Conservative movements and from my own Reconstructionist movement.
I'm going to say something that may seem hard to understand and I hope you're all not disappointed in me - please try to understand. When I see the Hasidim protest who I am, I am not filled with hate or even resentment.
I don't agree with where the Hasidim stand on marriage equality - of course I don't, and the life I live and the organization I lead show how strongly I disagree. But filled with hate or resentment toward the Hasidim? No way.
I see people with whom I have something in common. They and I, we're all members of Klal Yisrael, the Jewish community. I see my brothers and sisters. Well, yesterday I saw only my brothers because there were no Hasidic women there, best as I could tell.
Most of you know that I'm studying to be a rabbi in my other life. But it is almost impossible to describe to you the depth of my Jewish identity. There are three things in life I cherish above all else: My partner Daniel, my brother Richard and my Judaism.
In fact, every day of my life I believe I live in exile from where I should be living, but personal circumstances would never allow me to leave my family in the United States - and I am grateful to them, or one person in particular, for how much I love them and for giving me that bond. I certainly never would have met Daniel otherwise.
Do I love the Hasidim, my fellow members of Klal Yisrael, though they disdain who I am as a gay person? I do. It is an unbreakable bond.
And so I went up to each of them yesterday, and spoke to them in depth. I listened. I listened to things that were painful, including how I commit toevah -- that my being gay is an abomination.
I cried inside. But there was one moment I cried above all others.
One young man -- he, like many of the other Hasidim, was much younger than he looked because of his beard and payes, ie the sidelocks -- came up to me and asked to talk in private. So we did.
He questioned me on how it felt to be a Jew attracted to someone of the same sex and to be in a "gay marriage." I started by replying, it's been a long day, I'll listen, but please, can we make this just a few minutes?
He said, "You don't understand. I don't know how I feel about 'gay marriage.'"
I was surprised. More than surprised. I had just seen him protesting.
He continued. "I have attractions to people of the same sex. I think it's wrong but I don't think it's wrong. I know it will never go away no matter how much I try. It's who I am and I can never say that in my community. Yeshayahu (this young man called me Yeshayahu because it's my Hebrew name embroidered on the yarmulke I wore yesterday), how did you get to the point in life where you could be who you are, a Jew, a gay person and in a relationship you don't have to lie about?"
I stopped crying inside. It all came out, tears down my face. Here I was with one of my brothers who bared his soul. I put my hand on his arm, in a butch way as a substitute for the embrace I wanted to give him but couldn't, because there were other Hasidim glaring at us from a distance.
And then as the rest came up to us, he read to me Vayikra 18 from the Torah, in Hebrew, how my life was an abomination. I simply listened, and as he finished, I wished him good luck.
And he got up, joined the others, and as he walked away, he looked behind. He smiled. I smiled back.
Then I walked to the Garden State Equality office across the street from the State House. I wiped away my tears, and once again stepped into the caricature of my public persona: Tough activist who eats nails for food and thrives.
On my ride home an hour later, I could not stop crying.
I will always remember my fellow brother in Klal Yisrael not with resentment, but with love. |
