Creating/Finding Community, Pt. 2

In August 2014, we moved to Denver where Emet got a job in the Jewish community. We debated whether to live within the eruv or not and decided that it was better to live closer to Emet's school for practical reasons of sharing a car.

We began going to a conservative synagogue. While we weren't exactly excited about the davening, we had become accustomed to services without much ruach (spirit) and thought that it was not bad. We were prompted welcomed by the rabbi and community members. I remember on the first time that we went to this shul, there were a few other adults in our age range (some with young kids), and they were thrilled to chat with us and get us involved.

We became involved with an independent minyan (Minyan Na'aleh), and the first time we went for services, it was in someone's home without a mechitzah; kids were running around or involved in the service, but not bored, and the davening was absolutely beautiful. We met other young adults without kids and some with, and it felt amazing to connect with people who loved and enjoyed davening and accepted us, as a queer couple, wholeheartedly. The minyan met only once a month on Friday nights and a handful of times on Saturday mornings. We loved the community members and the davening, but were sad that it wasn't more consistent.

With the High Holidays approaching, we decided to go to Rosh Hashanah at this conservative synagogue, Kol Nidre with the independent minyan, and Yom Kippur at a conservative synagogue that had alternative services. We had heard about Shir Hadash from a friend of ours who studied with us at Pardes, and we gave it a try. Not only was I blown away by the beauty of the singing, I also enjoyed the rabbi's sermon on inner reflection and change and there were many young people in attendance.

We found out that Shir Hadash met weekly on Saturday mornings, and going to services there became our default Shabbat morning. The rabbis invited us for holidays and Shabbat, and I felt that we had found something similar to a community that we wanted. We also tried the Reconstructionist shul, which had different prayers but was run by a lesbian rabbi and made us feel at home.

At the same time, we started the Community Bet Midrash, which was about six of us young adults in our 20s and 30s who got together once a month to learn texts. It fulfilled a need of learning for us, and we met consistently until summer rolled around. By that time, we also knew that we were moving to Atlanta, and it was harder and harder to stay involved.

Being involved in Denver gave me a taste of what community could be like, but it still wasn't exact. Having Shabbat in our own way was great, and it was interesting to see how different everyone in our friend group celebrated Shabbat. Would we ever find a community that emphasized Shabbat and davening and also embraced us as a couple? I think we were pretty darn close in Denver.

Now in Atlanta, we are still learning, still exploring, and still trying to meeting friends. As it is much bigger of a city than Denver, the advantage is that there are many more synagogues to try, but the disadvantage is that there are many more synagogues to try along with the uncertainty of finding a community of queer Jews in our age range and life place. Even so, we're doing our best. Perhaps in a few more months, I will have a better understanding of where to find what we are looking for.

Creating/Finding Community, Pt 1

I realized my posting scheduled has slowed. Things are fairly busy once again. We recently celebrated our first anniversary (ok like nearly 3 months ago now). I can't believe it's already been a year. Where has the time gone?

For a throwback to our engagement and wedding videos, click the links!

We also moved to Atlanta at the end of the sumer. We were incredibly lucky to meet with our teacher Yaffa Epstein over Labor Day weekend when she was in town for Limmud SE+Atlanta, where we discussed many of the points I'm going to touch on here.

One thing we've struggled with is finding a supportive, understanding, and welcoming community. We really took Pardes for granted. We didn't know that when we returned to the "real" world that we would struggle to find the community where we fit - where we passionately enjoyed the davening and found young Jews as engaged as we were.

We tried out at least three synagogues when living in LA last year for three months. Two reform, one conservative. The rabbi who married us worked at a large non-denominational but Reform-leaning synagogue. She was/is amazing and when we met, she understood the place we hold religiously. She listened attentively as we talked about how difficult it is to keep Shabbat in the US and really empathized with us. The synagogue was more than an hour away from my mother-in-law's home, so we only went to services once or twice, and even though the singing was lovely, the davening was not exactly what we like.

We also tried a conservative synagogue and attempted another reform synagogue. It was an eye-opening experience, seeing how different services can be, both between denominations and even at different synagogues of the same denomination. When we went to the conservative synagogue, people were very friendly, but the age of the congregation was much older.  While we generally enjoyed this service, we wanted to try out another synagogue for the sake of it, and the following week, we went to the reform synagogue nearby to home. Because we had enjoyed the reform services we had been to (in Israel and at our synagogue downtown), we thought it would be a good option to try. I cannot tell you how terrible the service was for us. There was a lot of English, which wouldn't have been so bad if the service flowed better.  Every two lines, it seemed, we went to the next page. While there was a cantor with a guitar, no one else was singing, either because they didn't know the prayers or didn't care. After 30 minutes, we couldn't take it anymore and walked out.

I felt so terrible about leaving a service because it had no value for me. This is Shabbat. Shabbat services have become a joyous event for me, and I look forward to them, but I could not understand how anyone could have felt connected to Shabbat and Judaism for that matter at this service. I understand why the Pew report indicates that fewer and fewer people go to synagogue or feel connected to Judaism religiously. If I went to a synagogue like this, I wouldn't feel connected either. And this makes me so sad because religious Judaism is so beautiful. It's not even about going to to services. It's about learning our heritage and discussing texts and recognizing that our ancestors had intense conversations, some of which have never ended. This service was such a contrast to the other services we went to - our own shul in downtown LA and the conservative shul.

What I find is that as we move forward after leaving a place of study like Pardes is that these other aspects of Judaism are frequently not present when we go to some synagogues for services. I admit, I didn't grow up knowing about Rashi or Rambam or why any of these people and their thoughts are important, but I am glad I had the opportunity to learn now. I'm glad I can recognize how our history has contributed to the religious services we recite today and how they change with time, but also how many of them stay the same.

Emet and I fully acknowledge that we were so incredibly spoiled at Pardes. There was an instant community of people who are interested in Judaism, in learning, in religious thought, and yet are open to different modes of practice and beliefs. Our modern orthodox teachers asked Emet and I so many questions and embraced us for exactly who we are, a religious queer couple. Our identities may not fit with everything that religious Judaism says, but we are so blessed that we had the opportunity to learn, especially at an institution that really doesn't care where you came from or where you're going, only that you are willing to learn.

In my next post, I'll talk about the community we found in Denver and what we're looking for now that we live in Atlanta.

Back to the Beginning

I've started to become aware of the changing of the seasons, the cycle of Jewish life. Here we are again close to the beginning, when we start the Torah over again. 

I love the beginning of the Torah. There are so many interesting stories that you can get immersed in. The passions, the fights, the sorrow. There are so many engaging commentaries and discussions to have in the beginning.

Rabbi Sack's most recent parsha of the week email asked, why do we begin the Torah with stories and not law? He goes on to answer that Rashi says it is to illustrate the Jewish people’s right to their land. However, the Netziv (R. Naftali Zvi Yehudah Berlin) says it is to teach us about how the patriarchs were ethical, even with people who were strangers, which is why Genesis is named “the book of the upright.” We gain valuable insights into human behavior and ethical behavior from reading the colorful stories at the beginning. In my opinion, it's the old "show, don't tell" that is much more interesting. We see what happens with certain characters, which influences our view of morality. Even if we are told later specific rules on behavior, it's more interesting, and I'm more likely to remember, the stories about a specific people than the dryness of the law.

In the last few weeks, maybe months, we haven't read the weekly parsha as much as we did at the beginning of the year. The latter books are filled with dry laws. While there can be some interesting discussions, most of the time, frankly, I'm bored. It's not that interesting to read the details about what the High Priest should wear or how to build the mishkan. 

But then we come back to the beginning, and all of a sudden, I want relearn how HaShem made the earth, what kinds of obstacles the first Israelites encountered and how they dealt with them. I want to hear about moral dilemmas, ethics, and human mistakes. We learn a lot from the beginning of the Torah, and each year I want to come back to it and relearn what I've forgotten.

Perhaps this is why we are supposed to continue learning year after year. There are bits and pieces we forget and then remember. Something speaks to you one year that you didn't realize before. It's a constant journey. I remember going to a family for Shabbat one week, and the father was quizzing the sons on the parsha of the week. At each age, they had a different understanding of the same story. As we grow older, the stories become more complex as we recognize our world around us in new ways, as we interact with others in increasingly unique ways that color our experience and personality.

Each year, there are always new lessons to learn, and it rekindles my love of Torah.

Happy Tu b'Av!

Tu b'Av, the 15th day of Av, is the Day of Love, similar to Valentine's Day. In honor of the day, we want to share that our story has been featured on Huffington Post's Gay Voices blog!

Thanks to MASA for the connection and opportunity. Enjoy!

The Next Generation

Emet and I had the chance to speak with a group of students at a local high school a few weeks ago about our experience being Jewish and queer. The group was comprised of the Jewish group on campus, as well as the queer group on campus, so while many of the students were Jewish, there were a handful that weren't, and while many of the students were queer, there were just as many that weren't.

One thing that kept coming up was our struggle to be comfortable in our own skin. Is it possible to be both Jewish and queer? Is it possible to feel like we belong in both communities?

As we've written before, this is a constant source of discussion for us. On the one hand, we love Jewish ritual and culture. It's not only something we love. It's deep in our blood and soul. We couldn't be us without being Jewish. On the other hand, we don't always feel connected to the people we meet in the Jewish community. There's something missing sometimes. Even though the community is filled with authentic allies who truly care about the issues, sometimes there is a disconnect between our experience and a true understanding. Sometimes we just want to hang out with another queer couple who 'gets it.'

Back in February, we went to the Creating Change conference here in Denver, and of course it wasn't perfect. The diversity of people in the Jewish caucus groups I went to was varied, and I didn't relate to everyone's experience. At the same time, when speaking with some of the queer Jews, they understood, even if we approached Judaism differently.

Back at the high school, we touched on many aspects of how it's actually harder for us in certain Jewish circles and some queer circles, but we're trying our best to find out where we fit or to make the community that works for us.

At the end of our discussion, we spent some time chatting with the director of the Jewish groups, and it really surprised me that he said he's struggling with many of the same things in the Jewish community. Where does he fit in? Some people in his community observe one way and many others a different way. He has struggled finding allies and people who have commonalities with him. I would categorize him as Modern Orthodox, but I actually don't know, and it was interesting to hear that he struggled a lot, too.

A few weeks ago, we hosted a few friends for Shabbat, and the same topic came up. How do we as Jewish young adults engage in the community? Is the community right for us? What could make it better? I thought I was alone in these doubts, but actually, it seems we are all struggling with it. How do we become comfortable in the Jewish community, when it appears many people observe one way or believe one thing about Israel or aren't open-minded about certain topics? I don't have the answers now.

Leaving the high school, I kept thinking how different life is for these youth who are coming out earlier and earlier. In 10 years, will the Jewish community be better equipped to engage them on a level that works for them? Can I be a part of that change? Time will only tell.