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Why do so many Jews support gay marriage?

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The law enacted last week, allowing same-gender couples to legally marry in the District of Columbia, is a governmental matter. Yet, as a member of the clergy, I’ve been asked over and over again about my religious opinion on the matter.

Of course, the spheres of spiritual and civil life often overlap. The Hebrew Bible includes many laws, such as those governing commerce or damages, which would be considered civil law in today’s society. Further, the text demands its adherents step into the public sphere when the rights of historically oppressed groups are threatened. Members of the Jewish community have a long history of supporting – and working toward – civil rights for many who were once considered voiceless in society.

The rabbinic body of Reform Movement in Judaism, the denomination through which I was ordained, voted, in 1977, to oppose any legislation that would limit the civil rights of gay men and lesbians, quite a bold move at the time. In 1996, a smaller body of the same group, while denying religious marriage as it was traditionally understood, encouraged its members to welcome homosexual individuals and couples into their congregations and work toward inclusiveness at a time when parity seemed impossible. During this same year, the movement’s leaders affirmed the rights of gay men and lesbians to have access to the institution of civil marriage.

Four years later, in 2000, the Reform Movement’s rabbis voted overwhelmingly in favor of allowing the movement’s clergy to officiate at same-sex commitment ceremonies. It’s important to note that the Reform movement is not the only Jewish denomination that is supportive of either civil or religious marriage (or both) for same-gender couples. Members of the Reconstructionist Movement in Judaism as well as some Conservative Jewish leaders have also affirmed and worked toward civil and religious rights in this area.

Even if you’ve never read the Bible, you’re likely aware of the verse from Leviticus (18:22) widely understood as banning male homosexuality. The verse is often translated: “You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a female; it is an abomination.” Though the word abomination is an imperfect, and perhaps somewhat harsh, translation of the Hebrew original, the verse is correctly understood in its sociological context as placing homosexuality on the category of things that ought not be done.

With Jewish law so firmly in the “no” column, why have I and many of my colleagues said “yes” so loudly and clearly? I can only answer for myself, though I know that at least some of my views are shared by colleagues.

In the stage version of “Fiddler on the Roof,” the main character, Tevye, in lamenting the encroachment of modern life on his small, yet comfortable existence, laments to his wife, “It’s a new world, Golda.” Judaism, though steeped in tradition, is an evolving religion. It is impossible for me, as a 21st century American Jew, to live by a strict interpretation of laws that were first introduced in a societal context completely foreign to modern experience not to mention current knowledge of gender and sexual identity formation.

I support civil and religious marriage not despite my understanding of Jewish tradition but because of it.

In the biblical story of creation, human beings are said to be made btzelem elohim, in the image of God. If we are all created to reflect God’s goodness, then I believe we should all have equal access to God’s bounty. Loving relationships are part of that bounty. In the second telling of the creation story, a partner is formed for Adam, the first man, because “It is not good for a human being to be alone.” Though not all in our society have found partners, it seems like unspeakable cruelty to deny some who have the right to live and affirm that partnership.

Judaism is a religion based on a covenantal relationship – one between God and a people – and highly values covenants and oaths. In Judaism, marriage is known as kiddushin, or holiness. If two people, regardless of gender identity or sexual orientation, choose to sanctify their relationship and publicly and legally affirm their commitment to one another, it not only strengthens their individual bond, it serves to make our community stronger as well.

Rabbi Toby Manewith is with Bet Mishpachah. Reach her via betmish.org.

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Commentary

Returning to the kibbutz: A journey of heartbreak and hope

Hamas militants attacked Kfar Aza on Oct. 7

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Kfar Aza, Israel, after Oct. 7, 2023. (Photo courtesy of K.T. Colin)

Editor’s note: WDG, the Washington Blade’s media partner in Israel, originally published this commentary.

BY K.T. COLIN | In 2019, my first encounter with Israel was through the lens of a sponsored Birthright trip. I embarked on a three-week journey, traversing the diverse landscapes from the northern regions to the eastern territories and finally to the arid southern desert. I had the opportunity to visit different communities within Israel and Palestine. Amidst this exploration, I spent an unforgettable three days and two nights in a kibbutz situated near the Gaza border. The memories etched in my heart were ones of unbridled joy, resilience and the harmonious coexistence of the desert dwellers — an emotional tapestry that forever imprinted itself on my soul. Coming from an Iraqi heritage, I viewed these expressions of coexistence through a lens shaped by my own region’s history of conflict and diversity.

As I recall the Shabbat dinner at the kibbutz, the air resonated with the sacred call to prayers (Adhan) from a nearby Bedouin Arab-Muslim town. The juxtaposition of cultures and faiths was a poignant reminder of the shared humanity that bound the Jewish and Arab Israelis in this region. It was a journey that transcended the ordinary, leaving an indelible mark on my consciousness. Filled with memories of peace and unity, I returned, only to confront a reality far removed from my cherished memories.

Fast forward to last month, when I returned to the Negev Desert, specifically to Kfar Aza — one of the 22 kibbutzim targeted by Hamas on that fateful day, Oct. 7, 2023. The once vibrant oasis, brimming with the light of life, now stood shrouded in the darkness of war-induced death and destruction. The very bench where camaraderie blossomed in 2019, while sharing a moment of connection with an Israeli companion, lay reduced to ashes. The thriving pathways, once bustling with life, had metamorphosed into haunting reminders of blood and rubble. The faces that animated Shabbat gatherings, weaving tales of peace advocacy between Palestinians and Israelis, were now conspicuously absent. In the wake of Hamas’s brutality, no entity — be it human, animal or plant — escaped unscathed. The aftermath resembled scenes from an apocalyptic movie, a tableau of sensory deprivation dominated by the stench of death and the echoes of destruction. This destruction, while uniquely harrowing, echoed the all-too-familiar scenes of conflict from my childhood in Iraq, underscoring the universal tragedy of war.

Kfar Aza, Israel (Photo courtesy of K.T. Colin)

While my roots trace back to Iraq, a land marred by wars and the brutality of conflict, the devastation witnessed in Kfar Aza struck a chord that reverberated with the echoes of my past. My personal journey, from witnessing Saddam’s reign of terror to observing the aftermath in Kfar Aza, underscores a broader narrative of resilience and the enduring hope for peace. Born during the Iraqi-Iranian war, my father’s absence for the first six months of my life spoke volumes about the toll of conflict. The invasion of Kuwait and subsequent wars entrenched the narrative of war as an unwelcome companion in our daily lives. Memories of the U.S. invasion in 2003, the ensuing civil war, and the subsequent loss of rights for women, secular individuals and LGBTQ+ members further underscored the harsh reality of conflict.

Yet, Kfar Aza was a unique chapter in my journey, revealing a form of malevolence that transcended my prior experiences. In their assault, Hamas meticulously targeted specifically peace activists who wanted nothing but peace and prosperity between Israelis and Palestinians, sparing no atrocity in their pursuit. This was not just about taking lives; it was a heinous assault on the very prospect of peace. The evil that unfolded reminded me of the forces mentioned in the Quran — Yaajooj and Maajooj — entities of pure malevolence against whom even Alexander the Great erected a wall, according to Muslim prophecy.

My upbringing in Iraq, under the shadow of Saddam Hussein’s dictatorship, fanned the flames of anti-Semitism. A once diverse Iraq, home to 165,000 Iraqi Jews, witnessed their forced exodus through decades of genocide. Subsequently, Christians, Yazidis and Sabbea Mandaeen fell victim to ethnic cleansing orchestrated by dictatorial regimes, Nazi pogroms, Iranian militias and ISIS. The slow erosion of tolerance and coexistence occurred methodically, propelled by hate campaigns championed by Arab nationalists and later fueled by Islamist movements, plunging Iraq into its darkest era.

My school days were marked by compulsory flag-greeting ceremonies, ostensibly patriotic but laden with hate. The chants of “Death to America; Death to the Zionists; Death to the Jews” echoed through the air, fostering a culture of animosity. Arabization and Nationalism classes further fueled this bigotry, leaving an indelible mark on impressionable minds.

The recent horrors in Kfar Aza echoed memories of a similar brand of terror perpetrated by Saddam’s regime — the Fedaeen of Saddam, a precursor to Hamas’s brutality. The parallels were chilling — beheadings, brutal punishments and a reign of terror continued even after the fall of Saddam, as they joined Al-Qaeda, leaving a trail of atrocities in cities like Fallujah and Ramadi.

As I witnessed the devastation in Kfar Aza, the echoes of war in nearby Beit Hanoun, Gaza, resonated hauntingly. The pain echoed from both sides — the Israeli people enduring Hamas rockets since 2015 and the Palestinians suffering daily under the same regime. My heart shattered for the children left orphaned, the LGBTQ+ Gazans now without shelter or life-saving medications and the vulnerable girls and boys exposed to the horrors of Human trafficking and rape. The theft of humanitarian aid by Hamas left many without food and water, and the lip services to Palestinians by Arab and Muslim majority nations, painting a grim picture of a future hanging in uncertainty for those who survived.

Despite the deep scars of conflict, both in my homeland and here, I see glimmers of hope that guide us toward a shared future. I have endured the darkest chapters of conflict in my past, and I hold onto the belief that one day this war will end. I dream of a future where Israelis and Palestinians coexist in shared spaces, attending the same schools, dining at the same restaurants and dancing in the same nightclubs. Having witnessed such unity among Jews, Druze, Muslims and Christians in Israel, I pray for a day when this reality extends to Gazans and Israelis in the Negev Desert. The journey towards peace is arduous, but the human spirit, resilient and compassionate, holds the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

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Commentary

Why come to Washington Plaza Baptist Church?

It’s about the preaching, the people, and the purpose

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Washington Plaza Baptist Church (Photo courtesy of Washington Plaza Baptist Church's Facebook page)

BY ZITA COLLINS | I grew up in a Lutheran church before I really knew who I was. Before my own opinions and belief system were formed. Before “welcoming and affirming” churches existed.

I did the “expected” thing: got married to a man, had children, became a wife and a mom. But I knew there was more to me than that, the part I had to keep hidden because of the society “norms” so many years ago. I attended a Mormon church because that was the type of church my husband attended. As I became more myself having my own opinions and thoughts, and my husband tried to be more controlling, the marriage, of course, failed. 

I quit church. I moved on in life and met a wonderful woman. I knew there was a God, but I figured since I was “living in sin” He didn’t like me too much. My way of looking at it was “God, you stay in your corner and I’ll stay in mine, and we’ll get along just fine.” Four years later, in September 1982, my partner was diagnosed with cancer. A couple of months later, she passed away.

During those few months my friend invited me to go to her Assembly of God church. I became a regular. One Sunday in January 1983, I gave my heart and life to Christ, becoming a full-fledged believer. And once again, I gradually put away the part of me that was “unacceptable to God.”

As time went on, I attended various churches. I attended an Anglican church for 15 years. I loved God, but I could not reconcile how I felt — my LGBTQ self — with scripture as I knew it at that time. It was at a church leadership meeting, when we were voting on a new marriage policy to exclude gay marriage, that I realized my “calling”: to tell the LGBTQ community that God really loves them and accepts them as they are.

I studied scripture, praying for clarity, and realized that those “clobber verses” have been traditionally misinterpreted, misunderstood, or taken out of context. I began looking for a church that was friendly to the gay community. I learned that the correct terminology is “welcoming and affirming.” 

And I found Washington Plaza Baptist Church!

Warm and welcoming, I felt I had found a home. They knew my identity from the start, as I had let it be known that I was looking for a “welcoming and affirming” church. And they loved and accepted me.

So Who is Washington Plaza Baptist Church?

WPBC is a progressive American Baptist church, located on Lake Anne Plaza, with a long and rich history. It was the first church in Reston, Va., a part of Robert E. Simon’s design for the new town named after him. Washington Plaza Baptist Church is an inclusive Christian Community whose worship, communion, and fellowship are open to all. We are a safe place for all people to worship regardless of race, creed, age, cultural background, gender, or sexual orientation. We affirm that all have access to the love of Christ and service to God.

WPBC is very active in Pride. We were involved with the formation of the first Reston Pride and continue to participate each year. We open our fellowship hall for the performers to change and to cool off, and we have a table on the Plaza where we give away free Pride paraphernalia as well as hugs. WPBC has held weddings for same-sex couples — including my wife’s and mine — with most of our members helping in some way to make the day special.

At Washington Plaza Baptist Church, I have been fully embraced for who I am. I have been in leadership from early on. The pastor, Rev. Michelle Nickens, delivers sermons that are powerful and relevant, with a focus on being Christ-like in all areas, including social justice. The people live out their claim of inclusivity and affirmation. The church community truly loves and cares about the people within the church as well as those outside its doors. 

Our address is 1615 Washington Plaza West, Reston, Va. Reach us at 703-471 5225, [email protected]. (We’re on Lake Anne Plaza, right next door to the Lake Anne Coffee House and Wine Bar.)

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Commentary

Hur knew the political ramifications of his report

The case against Biden is over while Trump’s continues

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Special Counsel Robert Hur testifies before the House Judiciary Committee on March 12, 2024. (C-SPAN YouTube screenshot)

I read the transcript of President’s Biden’s sit down with Special Counsel Robert Hur, then listened to Hur, who actually resigned before he testified before Congress, and found him totally unbelievable. 

He’s a man looking for something. That something is most likely a job in Trump’s administration should he win. He refused to answer that question when asked. When asked by Rep. Adam Schiff (D-Calif.) if he realized what political games would be played with his report, he said it was it was in no way political. Hur gets credit for being smart. He went to Harvard and Stanford, and was a law clerk for Chief Justice William Rehnquist. He served as Special Assistant and Counsel to Christopher Wray, then assistant attorney general in charge of the Justice Department’s Criminal Division. There is no way a smart, accomplished man like Hur wouldn’t recognize the political implications of what he wrote.

I think once he found he couldn’t actually indict the president, because there was no indictable offense, he had to come up with a reason that would satisfy the Republicans he was trying to impress. So, what better than going along with the Republican playbook saying Biden was an old man who couldn’t remember anything and writing that is how a jury would see him? What a pile of BS. The reason they wouldn’t convict is there was no crime committed. 

Interestingly, Hur went even further down the Republican rabbit hole, and said Biden was only looking for money when he wanted to use the information from a high security paper in a book he was writing. But of course, like any former president or vice president, he was going to get a great book deal, which was in no way dependent on him having any high-level security papers in his possession to share. Again, ridiculous to pin it on that especially when you think about all the grift in the Trump family. 

Clearly, Jim Jordan (R-Ohio), who chairs the committee, the same Jim Jordan who I was most likely bumped out of a first-class seat on a recent American Airlines flight for, jumped on that to say Biden and his family only wanted to make money even if illegally. Again, it is beyond rational belief that Hur, a smart guy, wouldn’t understand he played right into Jordan’s hand. I think he put that in specifically for Jordan, and other Republicans, to use. Now he had to have some balance to his report, so he explained why Biden didn’t do what Trump did, Biden having cooperated with the feds, while Trump did just the opposite. But the reality is this didn’t make any difference to the Trump case, and didn’t break new ground in any way. Smart thing to do by Hur, but then I keep giving Hur credit for being smart.

The State of the Union speech put to rest Biden being an old man who couldn’t think on his feet. He clearly did, and even managed to make Marjorie Taylor Greene look like a bigger fool than she is. He had Speaker Johnson sitting behind him, actually having to clap for some things he said, even if he tried to hide those claps beneath the camera’s range. This is the same Speaker who in a press conference recently confused Israel with Iran, saying repeatedly the Congress would approve funds for Iran. President Biden delivered a strong and clear speech, which put many Democrats’, and independents’, minds at ease. 

The case investigating Biden taking documents is now over, at least with regard to any of the legal issues. That doesn’t mean Republicans will drop it, and Hur gave them the grist for their lies to continue. Hur kept saying he didn’t exonerate Biden, we can debate the meaning of the word exonerate, but again this shows how smart Hur is, and he did this for the Republicans he wants to impress. Despite this, his final report showed there was nothing to prosecute Biden on. 

The president can put this behind him, while Trump still has to deal with his case. The president is moving forward with a campaign that will show the American people why he, and Kamala Harris, should be reelected. He is out campaigning across the country making a strong case for his vision of the future, and talking about issues like abortion, and protecting democracy. If I am right, and Trump loses, Hur will realize what a big mistake he made, placing his bets on the wrong horse. 

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