Rabbi, What about Leviticus 18:22? Rabbi Eli Yoggev

Around twice a month in my high school class at Beth Tfiloh, we hold an “Ask the Rabbi” session. Questions include: “Why is prayer important?” “Can you be religious without believing in God?” “What are the kosher laws about?” And, of course, the ever popular, “Rabbi, as a vegan, what in the world do you eat?” (Yes, that still is the number one question I receive here as a pulpit rabbi at Beth Tfiloh). And in every session, without fail, the same student opens up his Bible, points to a certain location, and asks in a loud voice, “Rabbi, what about Leviticus 18:22?!” To be sure, this is the verse from our portion that prohibits sexual activity between two men: “You shall not lie with a man as one lies with a woman, it is an abomination.” This topic seems to be on the minds of most of my students. And it’s not just them. Not too long ago, Rabbi Ari Segal, the head of a well-known Modern Orthodox High School, published an article titled: “The biggest challenge to ’emunah’ [Jewish faith] of our time.” In it he writes, “This may surprise many adults, but the reconciliation of the Torah’s discussion of represents the single most formidable religious challenge for our young people today.” And if I can be honest here, almost weekly I receive a question on this topic or at least find people talking to me about it. Even as I prepared this sermon, I received a call from an old friend of mine in New York: “Rabbi, would you convert someone who abides by all of Jewish law, but is in a relationship with another man?” Over the past decade, our society has greatly shifted on this issue. A 2017 Pew research study found that now two in three people support same sex marriage. And it’s no longer taboo or off-limits for commercials, sitcoms, and music collaborations to feature same sex couples and gay people. Our society’s open and celebratory message poses a challenge for many Torah observant Jews, especially our youth. What is one to do with Jewish texts, and more importantly apparently black-and-white laws, that relay the opposing message? But I believe my student’s question runs even deeper than this. Let me tell you a story about a friend of mine from yeshiva that will illustrate. When I first arrived in yeshiva in in the late ‘90s, I met a nice guy, David, who turned out to be very instrumental in my becoming Orthodox. He took me around Jerusalem, showed me all of the used bookstores (yes, I am obsessed with used bookstores), and fielded many of my pressing questions about God, Torah, and Judaism. Three years into my yeshiva experience, David told me he was gay. “Not like there’s anything wrong with that!” “No, no, of course not!” Jerry Seinfeld would say. But this wasn’t so clear to David. Rabbi Eli Yoggev • Beth Tfiloh Congregation • Baltimore, MD • April 28, 2018

He struggled reconciling his Orthodoxy with his newly embraced identity and faced a life- changing decision. Should he remain Orthodox, abiding by all of its laws, including Leviticus 18:22, in turn abstaining from intimacy and love—or remain authentic to who he felt he truly was: a gay man. This question tormented him. As the days passed, the inner conflict became too much to bear. He fled Jerusalem and his Orthodox lifestyle for Tel Aviv—thus spearheading a decade full of drugs, sex, and partying. After his move to Tel Aviv, we lost contact and I didn’t hear from him for over a decade. I believe it was David’s question which was being asked of me by my high school student. To put it in more simple terms: How could a kind and benevolent God forbid a gay person’s identity? In recent years, psychologists and experts in the field have distanced themselves from reparative therapy for gay people, believing that homosexuality isn’t something one can “pray away” or undo through different techniques. And many Orthodox rabbis adopt this approach.1 If this is the case, how could God prohibit David, or any other gay person for that matter, from being who they are? I waited a few sessions before answering my student’s question. The Orthodox responses are complex, each with their arguments. I had to think about how to properly address it. One mainstream approach encourages acknowledging the inclination, but in no shape or form does it condone acting on it. As one esteemed rabbi writes: “[A] Jewish homosexual has to make a commitment to embark on a course where he will ultimately rid himself of homosexual activity. It is not necessary that he change his sexual orientation (if this is at all possible), but that he cease this activity. It is obvious that for many people this will be difficult, and will have to be accomplished over a period of time. Challenges are what life is all about, and homosexuality is one of these challenges.” According to this, one must remain celibate. If God is the author of Leviticus 18:22, then God knows what God is doing. This may pose an immense challenge, but it shouldn’t lead to altering the Torah. Other Orthodox rabbis have found ways to work with, or around, the Leviticus text. For instance, Rabbi Shlomo Riskin of Efrat, a leading Modern Orthodox rabbi, wrote the following back in 1993: “How can we deny a human being the expression of his physical and psychic being? If there’s a problem with the kettle, blame the manufacturer. Is it not cruel to condemn an individual from doing that which his biological and genetic makeup demand that he do? The traditional Jewish response would be that if indeed the individual is acting out of compulsion, he would not be held culpable for his act.”2 Jewish law does not hold one liable If someone held a gun to another’s .אונס for sins performed under duress. This is called oness head and said, “Eat this McDonalds cheeseburger right now or else!”, the one who bit into the burger did not willfully do so and, in turn, is not held accountable. Similarly, Rabbi Riskin and others would say, one’s homosexual reality is not one which was chosen. It has been

1 See, for instance: Rabbi Chaim Rapaport. Judaism and Homosexuality: An Authentic Orthodox View. Vallentine Mitchell, 2004, pp. 31-33 (hereon, Rapaport, Judaism and Homosexuality). 2 In a recent interview (Hebrew), Rabbi Riskin doubled-down on this same approach.

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Rabbi Eli Yoggev • Beth Tfiloh Congregation • Baltimore, MD • April 28, 2018

“forced upon” the individual, so to speak, removing culpability, to some extent, for this life choice. There are other ways of dealing with the text that fall in between these two views. And I even have heard that some rabbis will say one thing in public and another in private… Any way you cut it, the halachic reality is a big challenge for a gay Orthodox Jew. If they follow the first approach, their celibate lifestyle deprives them of intimacy, connection, and love. That’s sad. If they align with other more lenient views, they run the risk of feeling inauthentic due to their reliance upon minority approaches, and, more importantly, they feel like an outlier in the Orthodox community. Many Orthodox Jews do not believe in reinterpreting the Torah to adapt to this reality and are unaccepting of those who do—either explicitly or implicitly. Fast forward to 15 years after my yeshiva days in Jerusalem. I am comfortably resting on my couch in Pikesville and scrolling through pictures of my high school friend’s Chihuahua on Facebook, when all of a sudden I receive a friend request from none other than my old buddy David! Baruch Hashem! He’s alive! I seriously feared for his life over the years… And not just that – he’s off drugs, holding a stable job, and aiding people in their recovery from drug and alcohol addictions! He’s still into Yiddeshkeit. And yes, he’s still gay. David now lives a celibate lifestyle, following the first approach which we mentioned. This is an immense struggle for him, but one, at this point, he is willing to fight. Religious communities like ours pride themselves on being open and welcoming. Those who drive on Shabbat and eat non-kosher food are not judged. As the popular adage goes in our circles: “Everyone at Beth Tfiloh walks to shul. Some from their homes and others from the parking lot…” And the same goes for Chabad. I used to attend a minyan in Philadelphia where I was the only one, aside from the rabbi, who walked to shul. And they kept inviting people to come back, Shabbat after Shabbat. But when it comes to this prohibition, we often draw lines. An important Orthodox rabbinic voice laments this fact: “For a synagogue to welcome open-handedly Sabbath-breakers, non- believers, eaters of forbidden foods, and violators of other aspects of the religious code in Leviticus, while at the same time treating a person who is known to be a practicing gay or lesbian as an unwelcome intruder smacks of sheer hypocrisy.”3 Harsh words; but there is something to that. One in every twenty people in the city of Baltimore is gay. And I have heard some quote, albeit unscientifically, a one-in-ten ratio. Think about it. That’s one man per every minyan; one person per every five-on-five basketball pick-up game! Or one man per every two minyans… Many of these individuals are going through exactly what my friend David experienced: inner torment, self-hate,

3 Rapaport, Judaism and Homosexuality, p. 85.

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Rabbi Eli Yoggev • Beth Tfiloh Congregation • Baltimore, MD • April 28, 2018 alienation, and fear. David has found his way, after fifteen tough years, but it’s still extremely difficult. And not everyone can follow David’s lead down the celibate road. This, of course, presents a whole new set of tough challenges for them. With these struggles in mind, I finally addressed my student – answering his question in an ever-so-Jewish manner – with another question! “You put the emphasis on Leviticus 18:22,” I said. “But what about :18?” This is the famous verse, which appears only one chapter later in our Torah portion, commanding us to “love our neighbor as ourselves!” Most people don’t know this, but this is only a segment of the full verse. The full version reads, “Love your neighbor as yourself, for I am God.” “Why the extra ending?” asked the renowned Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz? “To teach us that we have to perform this commandment of loving others, for God’s sake – not based on our own feelings, biases, or prejudices.” The full verse teaches us to not pick and choose whom to love and welcome into our community. “For I am God” tells us that loving others is a commandment from Hashem – and it’s not upon us to qualify or limit it. Leviticus 18:22 is a big challenge. It challenges the faith of our youth; poses a day-to-day struggle for gay people in the Orthodox community, like David and so many others; and tests our faith and courage as a community. Sadly, there are no easy answers to these questions – for my student, our youth, and for David. Our communities must recognize these struggles and extend an open hand. Will we love our neighbor as ourselves? It’s up to us to rise to this challenge.

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