This sermon was given on 12/10/10 at Temple Beth Ami in Rockville, Md by Rabbi Sarah Meytin.
“Nobody tells Latino kids in the high school that nobody cares if they're Hispanic so long as they keep it to themselves. People don't tell black kids they should put up with racism because they've come so far from when they were slaves. They don't have to defend why there is black history month, or why people want black studies included in the curriculum. People don't say, "That's so Korean!" when they mean something is stupid or weird. People don't tell disabled kids that the community isn't ready to defend their equal rights and inclusion yet. You never hear anyone argue that breast cancer is God's way of killing off the women, and it's a good thing. If a teacher hears anyone use a slang insult for a Chinese kid, they jump on it. When foreign exchange students ask teachers about dating in the school, they aren't sent to see a guidance counselor.
But every day in the high school, I hear it's okay if I'm gay so long as I stay in the closet, that I'm an abomination against God, that I can change if I want to, and that people like me shouldn't be taught about in school. I'm told I should be satisfied because our school is far better than it used to be, and that I shouldn't push for my equal rights and inclusion because the community isn't ready yet. I hear, "That's so gay!" all the time, and I hear that AIDS is my punishment for being who I am, like I hear the word "faggot" all the time. It's hard not to walk around angry all the time.”
--Anonymous Massachusetts High School Student
But every day in the high school, I hear it's okay if I'm gay so long as I stay in the closet, that I'm an abomination against God, that I can change if I want to, and that people like me shouldn't be taught about in school. I'm told I should be satisfied because our school is far better than it used to be, and that I shouldn't push for my equal rights and inclusion because the community isn't ready yet. I hear, "That's so gay!" all the time, and I hear that AIDS is my punishment for being who I am, like I hear the word "faggot" all the time. It's hard not to walk around angry all the time.”
--Anonymous Massachusetts High School Student
This anonymous high school student is angry. Others are scared. Or sad. Or depressed. Or lonely. Some hate themselves; some hate everyone else. Some wonder how it can be that God made them gay, and now THEY have to live and deal with it. How dare God?! How could God leave them all alone, when all they want in the world is to not be alone. They feel so different; they are so different. We all are so different. And yet, for gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender teens – they are so much more alone – and we make them so much more different.
But it doesn’t have to be this way. The pain, shame, and fear that lead Rutgers student Tyler Clementi, 13-yr old Seth Walsh, and, just a few years ago, 16 year old Rachel Smith, from North Potomac and our own Jewish community, to take their own lives could have been prevented. We don’t have to raise children who hate who they are; who are afraid that others will hate who they are; who are like trapped animals, unable to cope, unable to run, unable to hide – looking for their only way out. Not only can we do better – we must. Rabbi Eliezer told us in Pirkei Avot (2:10) that other people’s dignity should be as precious to us as our own. And the Talmud goes further, saying that human dignity is so important, it supersedes even a biblical prohibition. Thus, what I want to talk to you about tonight isn’t about whether or not homosexuality is a sin, or what Leviticus 18:22 “meant” when it was written. I want to talk about loving our neighbors as ourselves, and creating families and communities that embrace that love. Peace and justice can only come to our world when we succeed. And in light of the recent rash of suicides of gay teenagers that made the news, I want to focus this evening on how we show our love to our children – whether the children in our families, or in our communities. For while we have made some progress in our efforts to be inclusive, caring, and loving to those who identify as gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender, there is still darkness clouding the lives of far, far too many of our queer-identified and questioning children.
We have just finished the holiday of Chanukkah, the festival of lights. We lit a candle each night, until the entire Chanukkiah glowed in a glorious blaze declaring God’s goodness and salvation from those who could not accept us for who we were. Let us turn these holiday lights into a shower of goodness and salvation for our LGBT children so that they too can feel the redemption that comes from reclaiming that which is sacred and holy about themselves. We can do this, and banish the darknesses which hide our queer and questioning friends, neighbors, and children, and bringing them fully into the light – and into our community.
For some, it is the darkness of invisibility which hides them. At this time of year, when every store clerk wishes you a “Merry Christmas,” every shopping center has Christmas decorations, and many radio stations are flooded with Christmas music, it is easy to begin to understand what it feels like when everyone assumes you are something you are not. Our LGBT neighbors live in the shadow of this invisibility throughout the year. Temple Beth Ami has worked to shine a light on lgbt families, by having inclusive membership forms, that ask for the names of “adult 1” and “adult 2.” There is no assumption that every family has a husband and a wife, or just one mother or just one father. This is a huge step in letting families headed by same-sex couples know they are welcome here. But it is only a first step. We can do more to ensure that the cloak of invisibility is removed, and that lgbt families are included in every part of our community. We can take a look at the libraries in our classrooms, the posters on our walls, and the toys that we provide to our children. We can ask, Do they reflect the diversity of families and gender identities in our community? Do they show only stereotypes of men and women, or do they open possibilities of self-expression that allows, for example, men to have a gentler side and women to be strong? We can look at the structure of our building itself, and ask, Do we have single-stall restrooms that allow those who are working through a gender transition to comfortably take care of their bathroom business without having to make declarations they aren’t ready to make? As we recall our Chanukkah lights, let us shed light on those hidden in the shadows of invisibility.
For some, they are hidden by the shadow of shame. Do we lovingly tease young children about “flirting” with someone of the opposite sex and ask older kids if their friend is their “boyfriend” or “girlfriend.” Do we ask about homecoming dates, engagements, and marriage prospects of our acquaintances, without allowing for the possibility that there may be a child struggling with the fact that the person they want to bring to the high school dance would be the same gender, or that they can’t get married, because it’s still not legal in Maryland? Do we subconsciously send the message to our children that being gay is fine – as long as it’s not them who is gay by assuming that the person they have a crush on is of the opposite sex or gender? Our children internalize our disappointment and feel shame for not being able to change.
For some the shame is imposed by our limited expectations. Most girls feel the freedom to experiment with dresses and jeans; with long hair and short bobs. There are those that embrace pink and princesses, and those that do not. But we as a society put such a premium on one definition of what it means to be a boy and then a man, that somehow our boys are threatened in their own manhood if they associate or know someone who doesn’t live up to that macho image. I am now working as a preschool teacher. Around the time that boys are three, many of them express true delight with items of clothing that are what we might call “pretty.” They dress up in flowery scarves, put on the flowy pink and white dresses, and want to be as beautiful as the girls do. Eventually most boys either outgrow the interest, or just begin to internalize that boys aren’t supposed to like “pretty” and they stop dressing up. The messages come from what they see on adults –but just as often it comes from the other girls and boys who are told either directly or subtly that only girls can wear dresses and that boys can’t like pink. For some of us, it may be challenging to be asked why it has to matter if a four or five year old boy still wants to wear pretty or frilly clothes. While most boys will outgrow their interest in dresses in their own time, some will not. For those that don’t, our reminding them even at the age of three that they are different; or not “the norm;” or “not typical” can instill a sense of self doubt, self-hatred, or depression that will last well into adulthood. Our good intentions darken their souls as we cast shadows on who they need to be. As we recall our Chanukkah candles, let us work to burn away the limitations we place on our boys that say they should only be strong, and tall, and rough. Let us shed light on their nurturing sides and allow their natural love of that which is beautiful to thrive. Let’s make sure they know that fighting does not make them more manly, and let’s let them know that no matter if they prefer gardening to drumming, singing to wood-working, or painting to car racing, they are growing into just the man that God intended. And we love them for it. And let’s make sure our girls know that we love them regardless of whether they are wearing pretty, flowy, flowery dresses – or jeans and combat boots. Let us make sure our children know that we really do love them unconditionally. As we recall our Chanukkah candles, let us find ways to banish the shadow of shame by opening ourselves to the myriad possibilities that are in each person, and accepting each person wholly and completely, for who they are.
Some are hidden by the shadow of indifference. There are loving partners of many years who are turned away at the hospital because they aren’t legally related. There are men and women who put their lives on the line for our country every day in the military, but risk their entire livelihood if they are open about who they love, there are mothers and fathers who have raised their children from birth, who cannot even sign their own child’s field trip permission slips, because they cannot legally adopt their children. Every group that struggles for full inclusion in society has some allies, and some who feel the “fight is not theirs.” The struggle for gay rights in America must be ours, because in Judaism, the struggle for social and civil justice for one group is always our struggle well. Jews have always known that a society that excludes one group from equal protection under the law is not far from excluding Jews as well. As Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” We cannot afford apathy; as the higher rates of depression and suicide in LGBTQ teens tells us, our children cannot afford our silence. The Talmud teaches us that, “Whoever can prevent his household from committing a wrongdoing but does not, is responsible for the wrongdoings of his household; if he can prevent the people of his city, he is responsible for the wrongdoings of his city; if the whole world, he is responsible for the wrongdoings of the whole world.” (Shabbat 54b). The injustices of our society are all of our responsibility, so let us recall our Chanukkah candles and stand in solidarity with those who want to be able to provide all of the protections of civil marriage to their families; those who want to serve openly, proudly, and heroically in our armed forces; those who want to be able to walk down the street holding their beloved’s hand safely. Let none of our children grow to feel their struggles are in isolation – let us recall our candles and banish the shadow of indifference.
Finally, some are hidden by the shadow of our good intentions, the shadow cast by the very adults who most care. The anonymous student we heard from earlier said he hears “It’s far better than it was.” And “We’re not ready yet” for your full inclusion. We, regardless of our gay, straight, or trans status, we remember what it was like when high school students – much less middle school students – didn’t come out of the closet. We remember when no one had heard of “transgender” men and women, and we remember when “gay marriage” was as likely as an African-American President of the United States. We remember, and perhaps still feel, our own pain and embarrassment when we heard “That’s so gay” or “What are you? A faigelleh?” in our school halls – or in our homes. We remember our own fear when Matthew Shepherd was tied to a fence and left to die, just because he was gay. We don’t want this pain for our children. We want to protect them from the rejection, the violence, and the struggle for inclusion and so warn them to go slow, or appreciate what advantages they have now. We mean well, but our good intentions to protect our children teach them that it would be better if they were not gay. That it would be easier for them and for us if they did not struggle for their rights. That it hurts us that they will face this pain. We ask them to forgive us, and our community for not being ready yet to welcome them with fully open arms. Our good intentions cast shadows on our children and queer friends. But we must recall our Chanukkah candles and show our children that we love them even more than this. R. Akiva taught that the Biblical command to "'Love your neighbor as yourself' (Leviticus 19:18) is a great principle. He said that “It means that you must not say, "Since I have been put to shame, let my neighbor be put to shame, since I have been cursed, let my neighbor be cursed." R. Tanhuma continued, saying: "If you do, you should not forget who it is that you shame, for [the Torah say] 'In the image of God did God make us.” Let us shine our light and illuminate the divinity in each other and in ourselves. Let us recall the glorious blaze of the fully lit Chanukkiah and in doing so, gather strength from its warmth and courage from its flames, so that we are not paralyzed by our own pain and failings, and do not paralyze others with our good intentions, so that we may bring about the changes we need to see in our homes, our temple communities, and our society.
For the anonymous high school student in Massachusetts, and those who go nameless and faceless in our own community, let us recall our Chanukkah lights, and banish all of the darknesses which hide us and our divinity from one another. Together we can bring love and hope to all of our children. Together, we can allow all of our brothers and sisters, all of our sons and daughters to walk fully in the light of God’s love and protection, knowing for them too was the world created. We can do this. Ken Yehi Ratzon. May it be God’s will that we do.
But it doesn’t have to be this way. The pain, shame, and fear that lead Rutgers student Tyler Clementi, 13-yr old Seth Walsh, and, just a few years ago, 16 year old Rachel Smith, from North Potomac and our own Jewish community, to take their own lives could have been prevented. We don’t have to raise children who hate who they are; who are afraid that others will hate who they are; who are like trapped animals, unable to cope, unable to run, unable to hide – looking for their only way out. Not only can we do better – we must. Rabbi Eliezer told us in Pirkei Avot (2:10) that other people’s dignity should be as precious to us as our own. And the Talmud goes further, saying that human dignity is so important, it supersedes even a biblical prohibition. Thus, what I want to talk to you about tonight isn’t about whether or not homosexuality is a sin, or what Leviticus 18:22 “meant” when it was written. I want to talk about loving our neighbors as ourselves, and creating families and communities that embrace that love. Peace and justice can only come to our world when we succeed. And in light of the recent rash of suicides of gay teenagers that made the news, I want to focus this evening on how we show our love to our children – whether the children in our families, or in our communities. For while we have made some progress in our efforts to be inclusive, caring, and loving to those who identify as gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender, there is still darkness clouding the lives of far, far too many of our queer-identified and questioning children.
We have just finished the holiday of Chanukkah, the festival of lights. We lit a candle each night, until the entire Chanukkiah glowed in a glorious blaze declaring God’s goodness and salvation from those who could not accept us for who we were. Let us turn these holiday lights into a shower of goodness and salvation for our LGBT children so that they too can feel the redemption that comes from reclaiming that which is sacred and holy about themselves. We can do this, and banish the darknesses which hide our queer and questioning friends, neighbors, and children, and bringing them fully into the light – and into our community.
For some, it is the darkness of invisibility which hides them. At this time of year, when every store clerk wishes you a “Merry Christmas,” every shopping center has Christmas decorations, and many radio stations are flooded with Christmas music, it is easy to begin to understand what it feels like when everyone assumes you are something you are not. Our LGBT neighbors live in the shadow of this invisibility throughout the year. Temple Beth Ami has worked to shine a light on lgbt families, by having inclusive membership forms, that ask for the names of “adult 1” and “adult 2.” There is no assumption that every family has a husband and a wife, or just one mother or just one father. This is a huge step in letting families headed by same-sex couples know they are welcome here. But it is only a first step. We can do more to ensure that the cloak of invisibility is removed, and that lgbt families are included in every part of our community. We can take a look at the libraries in our classrooms, the posters on our walls, and the toys that we provide to our children. We can ask, Do they reflect the diversity of families and gender identities in our community? Do they show only stereotypes of men and women, or do they open possibilities of self-expression that allows, for example, men to have a gentler side and women to be strong? We can look at the structure of our building itself, and ask, Do we have single-stall restrooms that allow those who are working through a gender transition to comfortably take care of their bathroom business without having to make declarations they aren’t ready to make? As we recall our Chanukkah lights, let us shed light on those hidden in the shadows of invisibility.
For some, they are hidden by the shadow of shame. Do we lovingly tease young children about “flirting” with someone of the opposite sex and ask older kids if their friend is their “boyfriend” or “girlfriend.” Do we ask about homecoming dates, engagements, and marriage prospects of our acquaintances, without allowing for the possibility that there may be a child struggling with the fact that the person they want to bring to the high school dance would be the same gender, or that they can’t get married, because it’s still not legal in Maryland? Do we subconsciously send the message to our children that being gay is fine – as long as it’s not them who is gay by assuming that the person they have a crush on is of the opposite sex or gender? Our children internalize our disappointment and feel shame for not being able to change.
For some the shame is imposed by our limited expectations. Most girls feel the freedom to experiment with dresses and jeans; with long hair and short bobs. There are those that embrace pink and princesses, and those that do not. But we as a society put such a premium on one definition of what it means to be a boy and then a man, that somehow our boys are threatened in their own manhood if they associate or know someone who doesn’t live up to that macho image. I am now working as a preschool teacher. Around the time that boys are three, many of them express true delight with items of clothing that are what we might call “pretty.” They dress up in flowery scarves, put on the flowy pink and white dresses, and want to be as beautiful as the girls do. Eventually most boys either outgrow the interest, or just begin to internalize that boys aren’t supposed to like “pretty” and they stop dressing up. The messages come from what they see on adults –but just as often it comes from the other girls and boys who are told either directly or subtly that only girls can wear dresses and that boys can’t like pink. For some of us, it may be challenging to be asked why it has to matter if a four or five year old boy still wants to wear pretty or frilly clothes. While most boys will outgrow their interest in dresses in their own time, some will not. For those that don’t, our reminding them even at the age of three that they are different; or not “the norm;” or “not typical” can instill a sense of self doubt, self-hatred, or depression that will last well into adulthood. Our good intentions darken their souls as we cast shadows on who they need to be. As we recall our Chanukkah candles, let us work to burn away the limitations we place on our boys that say they should only be strong, and tall, and rough. Let us shed light on their nurturing sides and allow their natural love of that which is beautiful to thrive. Let’s make sure they know that fighting does not make them more manly, and let’s let them know that no matter if they prefer gardening to drumming, singing to wood-working, or painting to car racing, they are growing into just the man that God intended. And we love them for it. And let’s make sure our girls know that we love them regardless of whether they are wearing pretty, flowy, flowery dresses – or jeans and combat boots. Let us make sure our children know that we really do love them unconditionally. As we recall our Chanukkah candles, let us find ways to banish the shadow of shame by opening ourselves to the myriad possibilities that are in each person, and accepting each person wholly and completely, for who they are.
Some are hidden by the shadow of indifference. There are loving partners of many years who are turned away at the hospital because they aren’t legally related. There are men and women who put their lives on the line for our country every day in the military, but risk their entire livelihood if they are open about who they love, there are mothers and fathers who have raised their children from birth, who cannot even sign their own child’s field trip permission slips, because they cannot legally adopt their children. Every group that struggles for full inclusion in society has some allies, and some who feel the “fight is not theirs.” The struggle for gay rights in America must be ours, because in Judaism, the struggle for social and civil justice for one group is always our struggle well. Jews have always known that a society that excludes one group from equal protection under the law is not far from excluding Jews as well. As Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” We cannot afford apathy; as the higher rates of depression and suicide in LGBTQ teens tells us, our children cannot afford our silence. The Talmud teaches us that, “Whoever can prevent his household from committing a wrongdoing but does not, is responsible for the wrongdoings of his household; if he can prevent the people of his city, he is responsible for the wrongdoings of his city; if the whole world, he is responsible for the wrongdoings of the whole world.” (Shabbat 54b). The injustices of our society are all of our responsibility, so let us recall our Chanukkah candles and stand in solidarity with those who want to be able to provide all of the protections of civil marriage to their families; those who want to serve openly, proudly, and heroically in our armed forces; those who want to be able to walk down the street holding their beloved’s hand safely. Let none of our children grow to feel their struggles are in isolation – let us recall our candles and banish the shadow of indifference.
Finally, some are hidden by the shadow of our good intentions, the shadow cast by the very adults who most care. The anonymous student we heard from earlier said he hears “It’s far better than it was.” And “We’re not ready yet” for your full inclusion. We, regardless of our gay, straight, or trans status, we remember what it was like when high school students – much less middle school students – didn’t come out of the closet. We remember when no one had heard of “transgender” men and women, and we remember when “gay marriage” was as likely as an African-American President of the United States. We remember, and perhaps still feel, our own pain and embarrassment when we heard “That’s so gay” or “What are you? A faigelleh?” in our school halls – or in our homes. We remember our own fear when Matthew Shepherd was tied to a fence and left to die, just because he was gay. We don’t want this pain for our children. We want to protect them from the rejection, the violence, and the struggle for inclusion and so warn them to go slow, or appreciate what advantages they have now. We mean well, but our good intentions to protect our children teach them that it would be better if they were not gay. That it would be easier for them and for us if they did not struggle for their rights. That it hurts us that they will face this pain. We ask them to forgive us, and our community for not being ready yet to welcome them with fully open arms. Our good intentions cast shadows on our children and queer friends. But we must recall our Chanukkah candles and show our children that we love them even more than this. R. Akiva taught that the Biblical command to "'Love your neighbor as yourself' (Leviticus 19:18) is a great principle. He said that “It means that you must not say, "Since I have been put to shame, let my neighbor be put to shame, since I have been cursed, let my neighbor be cursed." R. Tanhuma continued, saying: "If you do, you should not forget who it is that you shame, for [the Torah say] 'In the image of God did God make us.” Let us shine our light and illuminate the divinity in each other and in ourselves. Let us recall the glorious blaze of the fully lit Chanukkiah and in doing so, gather strength from its warmth and courage from its flames, so that we are not paralyzed by our own pain and failings, and do not paralyze others with our good intentions, so that we may bring about the changes we need to see in our homes, our temple communities, and our society.
For the anonymous high school student in Massachusetts, and those who go nameless and faceless in our own community, let us recall our Chanukkah lights, and banish all of the darknesses which hide us and our divinity from one another. Together we can bring love and hope to all of our children. Together, we can allow all of our brothers and sisters, all of our sons and daughters to walk fully in the light of God’s love and protection, knowing for them too was the world created. We can do this. Ken Yehi Ratzon. May it be God’s will that we do.
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