Koach Sets the Bar High
In many respects, I am just like any other anxious brideto- be. I am planning my wedding in July; until then, my life will be complicated by a whirlwind of decisions about photographers, color swatches, and invitations.
In another respect, there is one major difference that makes my wedding unique: I could not be prouder to say that this July, I will be joining the growing ranks of Conservative Jews in happily married samesex relationships. In recent years, taking part in the decisions, discussions, and changes in our movement in its relationship to the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community has been simultaneously frustrating and exhilarating. I believe that as a movement we still have a long way to go in achieving true inclusivity, but I am excited to watch the next chapter in our movement’s history unfold.
Just a few years ago, when I was a student at the University of Delaware, the Conservative movement played a huge role in helping me develop my identity as a Jewish lesbian. I was blessed, early in the fall of 2002, my freshman year, to find Koach, United Synagogue’s program for college students. That year, I fell in love with Judaism through Shabbat dinners, song sessions that lasted for hours, soda machines that worked only six days a week, and late-night Torah study over pizza. I loved the intellectualism, spirituality, intensity, and warmth of my new community, and took every opportunity to gain further Jewish experience and knowledge. In fact, it was at a Jewish leadership conference the summer after I began my involvement with Koach that I met Alanna, who is now my fiancee.
In the fall of 2003 I began the process of coming out. I began my term as president of Koach at Delaware terrified that acknowledging my newly found lesbian identity would mean that I would prematurely lose my treasured status as a Conservative Jewish leader. My fear seemed justified: some of my peers had been turned away from leadership positions in their Conservative communities, and a few more had put rabbinical or cantorial aspirations on hold indefinitely, praying that one day their queer identities would not be seen as conflicting with their Jewish ones. I too, started to experience resistance – I was told by one person that I should consider stepping down as president of Koach. I was told by another that unless I remained closeted I never would be selected for the Koach internship that I so desired.
Luckily for me, Koach was one of the most inclusive sectors of the movement at the time. I slipped through relatively unscathed, in a way that other LGBT-identified Conservative Jews did not. Not only was I hired as an intern, Koach also was willing to tackle the issue – to hold discussions, issue statements, and dedicate an issue of its ezine to the topic. And in Columbus, Ohio, at the national Koach kallah, which was held a few months before the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards was scheduled to discuss the teshuvot, Koach arranged a closed-door meeting of the queer-identified students there. At the meeting, we realized that even in that uncertain time we had a community of people going through the same struggles. Most importantly, in a time when I was extremely fragile, when both friends and family were distancing themselves from me, Koach embraced me even closer. In December 2006, no longer a college student yet very much still a Conservative Jew, I screamed and cried joyously into a cell phone, celebrating the passing of the Law Committee teshuvot that gave me such hope for the future.
Koach’s warmth, inclusivity, and willingness to address difficult issues kept me in the Conservative movement as a passionate, committed, and inspired Jew. However, I know that what I experienced in Koach is not the experience of Conservative Jews in general. My experience should not be an isolated occurrence or an occasional story. It is highly reproducible and must happen in all sectors of the movement, not just its college affiliate program. Many gay men and lesbians in the Conservative community struggle for inclusion in our synagogues and institutions. Providing for members, whether they be new, returning, active, inactive, out, or still closeted, is not just about making some changes on paper, but about creating truly inclusive communities by challenging traditional paradigms through education, warmth, debate, and love.
This may take many forms. Congregations could offer queer text study groups, seminars on planning gay weddings, or “freedom” Passover seders that reference LGBT issues. We can provide professional development for our educators on how to support children who are coming out, or who have same-sex parents. We can make sure that our registration forms are worded so they do not assume that all new members are in heterosexual relationships. We can give aliyot to gay couples, hold discussions in our teen groups, and provide space for social events.
One of the most beautiful qualities of the Conservative movement is that it has room for many different people with many different opinions. Among the qualities I admire most about our movement is the mindful, careful way that we make decisions, with an eye to both halachah and the needs of our communities. Therefore, I recognize that the types of changes that I am advocating can and should happen at different times and speeds in different places. However, no matter where a particular congregation stands, it still has an obligation to provide for the spiritual wellbeing of all its members, regardless of their sexual and gender identity.
As a student of both Jewish and gay and lesbian history, I am constantly inspired by the heroism and strength of those who came before me in the struggle for inclusivity and equality. Not very long ago, the wedding that Alanna and I are planning would have been unthinkable. Now, although we have braced ourselves to handle conflicts coming from any number of sources, we are infinitely grateful for the luxury that our biggest frustrations are with petty concerns, like the color of our bridesmaids’ dresses. And although I realize that our experience is not representative of most same-sex couples right now, I have faith in the resilience and strength of both the Conservative movement and the Jewish people. I have faith that we can look forward to a time of increased inclusivity.
Rebecca Kirzner is a Spanish teacher in an urban high school in Philadelphia.
