Discovering the Stream in the Desert: Toward Homosexual Inclusion in the American Conservative Jewish Movement

Abstract

In recent decades, various communities and organizations have been working to promote LGBTQ+ inclusion and justify their equal rights. This task becomes more complex within religious communities that are based on traditional values that reject homosexuality. This historical-anthropological study presents “K’Afikim BaNegev”—a special manual that includes more than 347 pages and incorporates 73 diverse sources distributed in early 1994 in American Conservative Jewish congregations aimed at combating homophobia. I clarify how the documents reveal progressive qualitative methodologies for identifying and understanding barriers and mechanisms of community change. Textual analysis of personal letters, educational programs, workshops, and rabbinical sermons revealed two methods for creating this egalitarian change and constructing the Jewish community as a safe space for gay men and lesbian women and their family members: (1) using and promoting personal narrative (storytelling) as a channel to voice LGBTQ+ people’s stories and (2) adapting a text-centered approach that considers biblical sources as authoritative in recognizing LGBTQ+ identity. Thus, the acceptance of homosexuality was not conceptualized in terms of liberal human rights rhetoric but rather as a religious commandment. Thus, I define this novel initiative as an act of ‘queer Jewish activism,’ offering a new typology for community development and practice that advocates for LGBTQ+ individuals within contemporary religious communities.

1. Introduction

Inclusion of LGBTQ+ people in employment protections and the legal recognition of same-sex relationships have become particularly prominent issues at both the state and federal levels, especially over the last decade (Woodford et al. 2013; Roberts-DeGennaro 2011). However, this mission is not yet complete. This was certainly not the case several decades ago, and even now, LGBTQ+ phobia persists. Coming out of the closet remains a privilege for some, and shame and concealment are permeant emotions in LGBTQ+ people’s life experiences.

Since the inception of the gay rights movement in the mid-20th century, different communities have developed varied attitudes and responses to homosexuality based on their religious values, interpretations of scriptures, sacred texts, and leadership directives, while LGBTQ+ recognition has been particularly challenging among traditional religious denominations. In Jewish communities, this issue has been contentious due to the prohibition of homosexual acts in traditional interpretations, although there exist discussions in the Talmud concerning trans people, lesbians, and even a comprehensive discourse on intersex individuals (Strassfeld 2022). Even so, historically non-heteronormative gender and sexual identities and performances were not supported within Jewish communities (Avishai 2023; Irshai 2019).

However, American Reform Judaism, guided by liberal and non-Orthodox approaches, has pioneered LGBTQ+ inclusion. This movement led to efforts to integrate gay individuals into communal worship and later into rabbinical leadership roles. Their progressive stance has not only influenced Jewish communities but also contributed to broader societal acceptance and advocacy for gay rights (Drinkwater 2020).

The influence of American Reform Judaism on other Jewish denominations has become evident as LGBTQ+ individuals have become increasingly welcomed. However, this acceptance did not occur overnight, especially within the Conservative Jewish movement, which initially did not treat LGBTQ+ individuals as equal congregants. A pivotal moment occurred in 1992 when the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards (CJLS),1 which was responsible for setting the halakhic (Jewish law) policy for the Rabbinical Assembly and the Conservative movement, maintained its longstanding position against homosexual conduct.

In an act of resistance, three rabbinical students at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America (JTS) refused to remain passive, recognizing the need for the movement to educate and respond. Rabbi Sara Paasche-Orlow2, Rabbi David Rosenn and Rabbi J.B. Sacks3 created a special manual (Figure 1 The manual’s cover; photographer: Rabbi David Rosenn) titled “K’Afikim BaNegev”,4 published in 1994, aimed at helping rabbis engage their communities in embracing lesbian and gay Jews.5 This comprehensive collection spans 347 pages and incorporates 73 diverse sources, such as sermons, letters, educational programs, communal workshops, and advocacy literature promoting the acceptance of gay men and women. Intended for Conservative rabbis, educators, and Jewish professionals, the manual has been instrumental in fostering egalitarian dialogue and combating homophobia within American Conservative Jewish communities and in general society as well.

On the first page, the manual’s editors wrote, “As more rabbis, cantors, Jewish educators and Conservative laypeople come to know Jews who are gay and lesbian, these Jews will return to our congregations to pray and study among us, to celebrate our common triumphs and to mourn our common losses”.

This informal grassroots initiative, initiated independently by those students rather than by leadership, marks the beginning of the Conservative movement’s evolution toward LGBTQ+ acceptance. Moreover, reviewing the materials reveals various strategies for integrating community change and translating liberal agendas into actionable community initiatives.

This study presents diverse materials from collections, such as sermons and suggestions for educational programs, workshops, and other instructions, illustrating how these could facilitate social change within the Jewish community. Through textual analysis, I argue that the sources reveal two primary tactics: first, the voicing of personal narratives—placing life stories at the core—and, second, the recruitment and adaptation of Jewish rhetoric—drawing on Jewish sources to justify the acceptance of gay people not only through a liberal discourse of human rights but also based on Jewish values grounded in religious commandments. Thus, the rabbis in their sermons exemplify what Hogeterp (2020) terms a “theology of advocacy”, a humanistic approach that emphasizes the need to listen to communities and “seek the good where God has placed them”.

Rather than sanctifying the textual space solely through biblical verses, which serve as a central tool and infrastructure for developing programs and delivering messages of gay recognition, the suggested programs and community activists advocate for congregants to become social agents. The materials shed light on the importance of the performance and visibility of LGBTQ+ people. In the context of LGBTQ+ inclusion, educational programs and community initiatives advocating for the presence of gay men and lesbian women in synagogues—rather than merely discussing them in absentia—underscore a transformative approach to fostering change. As Rabbi Passche-Orlow and her peers asserted in their introduction, “printed words alone are not sufficient” (p. v).

K’Afikim BaNegev exposes an approach to the role of community that should be, as Baum (2001) claims, “seeking not just to change individuals but to alter the conditions in which they live […] communities must be the instruments of their own change” (Baum 2001, p. 147). In addition, I assume that all the materials included in the manual contribute to community development by aiming to assist people in communities in developing their ability to influence important issues, leading to the improvement of their own and their loved ones’ quality of life (Westoby and Dowling 2013).

In this specific context, the manual aims to encourage rabbis, community leaders, members, and organizations to develop pro-LGBTQ+ awareness, create a conversation about coming out of the closet, and support gay family members. This process strengthens their vitality and independence to establish the Conservative Jewish congregation as a supportive framework based on a dialectic initiative, both that which comes from the leaders and that which comes from the members themselves.

Unlike structured formal paradigms of social change in communities (Bobo et al. 2001), K’Afikim BaNegev exemplifies a bottom-up initiative that emerged organically from a community, rather than being led or established by a movement within a structured framework. Additionally, it emphasizes emotional arguments, such as sharing personal stories, over professional planning. Moreover, the suggested educational programs draw primarily from the experiences of rabbis and activists in the field rather than being authored by pedagogical experts, at least for the most part.

First, I discuss Conservative Judaism and the theological-liturgical tension it navigates between preservation and innovation as well as change and commitment to tradition and halakha. I frame Conservative Judaism as an attempt to flexibly adapt Jewish law to the spirit of the times, providing a suitable groundwork for understanding attitudes towards homosexuality. Next, I engage in theoretical discussion highlighting the importance of LGBTQ+ activism, particularly Jewish LGBTQ+ NGOs, and how it is understood as a practice of resistance and empowerment, serving as a political tool to promote equality and combat injustice. The findings are categorized into two main groups: sermons and educational programs. In the discussion, I summarize some of the conclusions drawn regarding social change for LGBTQ+ inclusion in contemporary religious communities and thus connect this micro case to the macro level.

2. Between Exclusion and Inclusion: LGBTQ+ Issues in Conservative Judaism

The findings in this study, taken from the manual produced by Conservative rabbis for their North American communities, present an oppositional response to the movement’s homophobic decision of 1992. As noted, the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards (CJLS) upheld its long-standing stance against homosexual conduct. Dialectically, this statement reflects and constructs the inherent conflictual agenda in Conservative Judaism.

Since the mid-20th century, the Conservative movement, with its many communities spread throughout the United States, has enjoyed popularity second only to Reform Judaism, influenced by Rabbi Solomon Schechter’s followers, who prioritized inclusivity while avoiding contentious disputes. However, the movement’s flexible parameters have posed challenges, particularly among rabbis seeking a cohesive doctrinal framework.

In ‘Tradition and Change’, Waxman (1958) describes the movement as a cohesive body with a distinct perspective, perpetually evolving. However, Waxman notes that the emphasis previously attributed to the group concept of ‘Klal Yisrael’ (i.e., the Jewish people) prevented independent agency or self-development, reflecting the ideological flexibility of the movement that operates under the paradoxical commitment to both Jewish tradition and changing social realities.

Indeed, the main issue of this movement is how far to tighten the rope and how far to expand the boundaries. Cohen (2012) illustrates how the enduring conflict between inclusivity and defined boundaries is central to Conservative Judaism’s current challenge for relevance: that the clergy rather than the laity or JTS were the architects and shapers of Conservative Judaism. Even so, diversity has been—and continues to be—a vital factor in the successes and failures of emerging American religions. As such, Conservative Judaism’s current struggle for self-definition is connected to its origins, with the fluid boundaries between Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform Judaism highlighting the complexity of the American Jewish landscape.

In fact, after the debate over women’s status subsided, it was replaced by the homosexuality controversy as the central issue and a source of tension between conservatives and liberals (Silverstein 2001). The debate on homosexuality began with the 1992 consensus statement, originally composed by Rabbi Eliot Dorff (Droff 1992, p. 692) and accompanied by eight teshuvot (responsas) and consensus statements (papers not submitted for voting) including teshuvot written by Rabbi Dorff as well as Rabbi Joel Roth. The 1992 statement issued five resolutions: (1) Conservative Judaism will not officiate any gay and lesbian commitment ceremonies; (2–3) Conservative Judaism “will not knowingly admit/avoid homosexuals” when it comes to rabbinical or cantorial schools, but (4) neither would they “instigate which hunts” among the student body; and (5) individual rabbis will determine the hiring of homosexuals as teachers or youth leaders for their own communities (Roth 2002).

A decade later, in 2006, despite significant opposition from mainstream rabbis in Israel, Canada, and South America, the Halacha Committee in the United States, led by Rabbi Elliot Dorf, expressed the acceptance of relationships between homosexuals and allowed their ordination as rabbis (Shapiro 2013). However, it was noted that the prohibition of male–male sexual relations remained in effect. Rabbi Joel Roth, who asserted in a minority opinion that there was a ban on any form of sexual contact between men, along with three other committee members, resigned.

In 2012, guidelines were established for marriage ceremonies for LGBTQ+ individuals, although they were not formally defined as weddings or sanctifications. In 2011 and again in 2016, based on principles of human dignity, the movement passed resolutions to advocate for full equality for transgender people and to promote their inclusion and acceptance within communities and institutions. Indeed, the question of LGBTQ+ inclusion compels the conservative movement to grapple with matters of morality and ethics, challenges that have been inherent since its inception as a movement navigating along a conflictual axis (Cherry 2012).

In fact, later studies have shown that the movement is still very much divided. Describing the aftermath of the decision, Wertheimer (2007) writes, “Movement officials lauded the committee’s work, characterizing its acceptance of diametrically opposite rulings as positive proof of Conservativism’s successful commitment to religious pluralism. But to judge from a follow-up opinion poll, rabbis and presidents of Conservative synagogues felt otherwise. Far from welcoming the exercise as a success, two-thirds of the former claimed to have been ‘somewhat embarrassed’ by the contradictory rulings, and over half of the lay leaders pronounced themselves ‘confused’” (Wertheimer 2007, p. 38).

However, according to Rabbi Yuter (2008, p. 40), who examined the significance of this debate and its ramifications for Conservative Judaism, this confusion was not limited to practical conclusions or even to the specific arguments of the teshuvot. At stake were two models for the present and future of Conservative Judaism disguised as halakhic arguments, with one side representing the original collectivist vision of Conservative Judaism and the other defending a modernized individualistic approach to Jewish identity.

In 2015, Rabbi Gil Steinlauf made history as the first openly gay senior rabbi of a Conservative congregation. Serving at Adas Israel Congregation in Washington, D.C., he garnered acclaim for his inclusive leadership and efforts to unite diverse communities. Reflecting on his experience, Rabbi Steinlauf shared, “my coming-out was met with love and open arms by my congregation”.6 This reception marked a significant shift, considering that just a few years earlier, Conservative rabbis had faced dismissal upon their gay identities being disclosed. His journey stands as a symbolic milestone in the acceptance of LGBTQ+ individuals within Conservative Judaism.

A year later, in 2016, the Rabbinical Assembly (the international association of Conservative rabbis) passed a resolution titled “Resolution Affirming the Rights of Transgender and Gender Non-Conforming People”.7 The document affirmed the full equality of transgender and gender non-conforming individuals within Jewish life. It called for legal protections and access to healthcare for trans people, and urged Conservative institutions to create inclusive spaces and develop affirming rituals.

3. From Resistance to Empowerment: LGBTQ+ Activism and Social Transformation

In the introduction to Activism and social change: Lessons for community organizing, Shragge (2013) mentions that “Community organizing at its best creates sites and practices of opposition. Those interested in progressive social change, social justice, and so on were attracted to the community movement because it was a place to organize resistance to the system of global capitalism, patriarchy, racism, and other forms of socio-economic oppression and domination” (Shragge 2013, p. xiii).

Indeed, resistance is a crucial category for examining responses, initiatives, and activist actions aimed at fostering social change. It reveals not only how individuals and groups react but also their socio-political positioning within society. Perhaps, like other social acts for community change, although confrontational tactics do not always lead to immediate impact, they create public resonance that can result in significant changes over time (DeLuca 1999). When examining the development process of community change, the categories of gender and sexuality should be considered significant for identifying conflicts, tendencies, challenges, and changes.

According to Asal et al. (2017), the LGBTQ+ rights NGO movement has been a key force in combating sexual discrimination. However, in regions where public attitudes are less supportive, LGBTQ+ organizations face greater challenges. By examining sexual minority rights, we show how differing public attitudes on human rights issues can affect advocacy success. Our analysis, based on data from over 4000 organizations between 1990 and 2011, tests these implications across countries.

To the structure (state, community, or institution) and to the socio-political and geo-political space itself in which the LGBTQ+ community operates, it plays a central role in shaping queer activism and its chances of success. For example, Chen (2020) examines LGBTQ+ activism in China, where political risk and social stigma often limit public expression. Focusing on Qiu Bai’s lawsuit and online campaign against homophobic textbooks, she explores how activists navigate personal restraint, digital engagement, and collective action. In addition, Acconcia et al. (2024) examines LGBTQ+ mobilization in Egypt, Tunisia, and Turkey during and after the 2011 and 2013 protests, focusing on the role of civil society organizations and digital technologies. They explore how state repression, digital networks, and meso-level organizations shaped LGBTQ+ activism. While all three countries targeted LGBTQ+ communities, activists in Egypt used social networks to resist, while those in Tunisia and Turkey built new strategies through established organizations to strengthen political alliances.

In Jewish LGBTQ+ activism, an array of organizations advocate for equality, inclusion, and recognition within Jewish communities worldwide. Keshet, founded in the United States, works to foster LGBTQ+ inclusion in Jewish life through educational programs, advocacy efforts, and community building (Ben-Lulu 2024). They provide training for Jewish institutions to become more welcoming and affirming spaces for LGBTQ+ individuals. Another significant group is JQ International, focusing on supporting LGBTQ+ Jews from all backgrounds, including Sephardic and Mizrahi communities, through cultural programming, support groups, and social events.

In Israel, Bat-Kol operates as a religious lesbian organization that promotes social change within Jewish and Israeli society. Another Israeli organization, Tehila, supports LGBTQ+ Orthodox Jews by providing counseling, advocacy, and community engagement opportunities. Tehila works to reconcile Jewish tradition with LGBTQ+ identities, offering resources for individuals navigating religious and sexual orientation challenges (Hartal 2020).

The effort to integrate LGBTQ+ discourse that will bring about community change requires the involvement of the marginalized subjects themselves. For example, Kupper and Kaplan (2010) studied the non-profit organization Hoshen, the advocacy organization of the LGBTQ+ community in Israel, examining how activists in the organization emphasize their individual identities and seek to use their personal stories as a means to change stereotypical and homophobic perceptions against them. The organization’s activities are centered around storytelling, based on the belief that personal engagement can foster empathy and solidarity between the speaker and the audience.

These organizations demonstrate a diverse spectrum of approaches to Jewish LGBTQ+ activism, from educational initiatives and community support to religious advocacy and global networking. Together, they contribute to shaping more inclusive and affirming environments where LGBTQ+ Jews can celebrate their identities without compromising their faith or heritage.

All of these studies show how activism may be one avenue for sexual and gender minorities to build resilience while resisting oppression (Job et al. 2024). Based on these conclusions, this study suggests that the religious sphere cannot be ignored when examining various practices for supporting and assisting the LGBTQ+ community (Avishai 2023; Dupree 2018). Any attempt to portray it solely in a homophobic light misses historical and contemporary opportunities to examine the efforts of religious communities to address this challenge. The following findings demonstrate how educational responses to fostering LGBTQ+ acceptance, both as community workshops or rabbinical sermons, are also provided within religious communities. Various educational activities and contents are produced by religious individuals who work to develop content recognizing gender and sexual diversity based on religious sources, which is essential for social change.

Thus, the proposed community practices are not detached from the religious character of the community offering them—or from the identity of the members who attend it. These kinds of practices and activities allow us to trace the process of improving the effectiveness of community-based interventions, as Santiago et al. (2017) claimed, and highlight the integral issues of sexual and gender identities.

4. Methodology and Research Restrictions

This qualitative study is based on a textual analysis of letters, educational programs, and rabbinical sermons included in the K’Afikim BaNegev manual, which I found during my fieldwork at the American Jewish Archive in Cincinnati during the summer of 2023. In the first stage, I categorized the findings by type: letter, educational activity/workshop, and rabbinic sermon. The initial classification by source type helped me determine the two central themes, each representing methodological paradigms reflected in the texts: the significance of sharing and the focus on the homosexual narrative in communal discourse and interpersonal encounters and the positioning of the textual arena as a central platform for support and advocacy for the LGBTQ+ community.

During the analysis of the materials, I tried to identify recurring expressions, metaphors, significant verbs, Jewish references, and phrases that shed light on different life experiences. I particularly emphasized examining the framing of the message as presented by the authors, whether it was a sermon or an educational program. I also examined the logic behind the style and phrasing, for instance, whether the text serves to justify and affirm the writer’s identity or, alternatively, to request and criticize a particular entity, thus clarifying the connection between personal and social factors.

Therefore, I was encouraged to explore how personal voice was placed at the center of the exploration of the manual’s goals. Qualitative scholars define a narrative as a personal story shaped by the narrator’s reflection on their experiences, influenced by character, beliefs, and worldview (Riessman 2003; Lea Gaydos 2005). These narratives assign meaning to events, imbuing personal experiences with significance for both narrator and audience. Sharing personal stories fosters self-examination and a deeper understanding impacting listeners through inspiration, hope, and learning (Stivers 1993).8

As such, mapping the actors included or targeted by the text was always under consideration. This approach was very beneficial because many crucial details were missing, and as evident from the analysis, the primary focus lies not on the identity of the individual writers but on the content attributed to them. This is due to the limited availability of information about the writers themselves or because they chose to remain anonymous, often using pseudonyms. I recognize the limitations of this incomplete picture; however, it underscores that the discussion here centers on the broader phenomenon rather than on specific random individuals. The story of an ‘unknown gay person’ can resonate with many others, highlighting the universality of the experiences shared.

Furthermore, when I read the materials, I paid particular attention to the writers’ descriptions and their chosen methods of articulating and substantiating their claims. As a gay man who has personally experienced the process of coming out, I encountered highly emotional moments while reviewing these materials. Although my background is in anthropology and the majority of my work involves direct interactions with living individuals through observations and interviews rather than textual analysis (Ben-Lulu 2021, 2022, 2023, 2025), I made an effort to envision the writers themselves. I pondered over where and under what circumstances and conditions they wrote and what might have been going through their minds during those moments. I considered it a research duty since I grew up in a different era and space.

In addition to textual analysis, it was very important for me to establish a connection with the creators and obtain their testimony. I conducted interviews with the editors to gain their retrospective insights, to try to reminisce together with them about the days gone by and also to examine from a historical perspective their viewpoint on the development of the Conservative movement regarding LGBTQ+ acceptance. This approach proved invaluable in forming a holistic comprehensive understanding of the evolution of community change.

5. Crafting the Homosexual Narrative: Embracing the Spirit of Sharing

A central aspect of this manual was to amplify the voices that had been silenced—the testimonies and personal stories of gays and lesbians. Instead of merely providing general information about experiences related to homosexuality, the editors made the decision to expose the personal stories of gay Jews. These stories include emotional descriptions of concealment, pain, and shame and reveal moments of confession, hesitation, and courage during the process of coming out.

Previous studies have examined the phenomenon of double marginalization experienced by religious LGBTQ+ individuals, who often find themselves torn between two worlds: the religious community that rejects them and the LGBTQ+ community that welcomes them (depending on the context). This identity dilemma condemns them to a challenging existence, forcing them into an unjust choice. Finding a compromise often comes at a steep personal cost (Thumma 1991; Rodriguez and Ouellette 2000; Coyle and Rafalin 2001; Schnoor 2006).

Surprisingly, in most of the presented testimonies, there is no description of a conflict between Jewish identity and sexual identity, and there is no momentous decision that needs to be made between the two. This approach may serve to “calm down” potential readers and even help them develop empathy for gay life experiences. For example, in the article Gayness and God: Wrestlings of an Orthodox Rabbi,9 Rabbi Yaakov Levado10 shared his personal Jewish gay dilemma:

“I have come to understand my gayness as akin to my Jewishness: it is integral to my sense of self. I did not choose it, but it is mine. There is nothing left to do but to celebrate it. […] In order to know how to shape a halachic response to any living question, what is most demanded of us is a deep understanding of the Torah and an attentive ear to the people who struggle with the living question. Confronting new questions can often tease out of the tradition a hiddush, a new balancing of the voices and values that have always been there. There is no conclusive psak halacha (halachic ruling) without the hearing of personal testimonies, and so far, gay people have not been asked to testify to their experience…”

This editorial decision to include a testimony from an Orthodox rabbi demonstrates how the Significant Other meaning of the Conservative rabbi/congregant is Orthodox and not necessarily Reform. Additionally, the choice to include a personal description shows how LGBTQ+ inclusion engages with Jewish law without nullifying it, reflecting that the editors always considered the readers who would read the materials. If they are part of the Conservative community, then it is highly reasonable to assume that halakhic legal discussions are an inseparable part of their understanding of their religiousness. The dilemma of hiding identity and life inside the closet is described extensively, as religious space is revealed as a solution to this identity crisis.

One more emotional personal story was a letter to Ima (mother) by an anonymous Rabbinical school student, JTS:

“I have spent much time reading, thinking, and discussing the intersection of myself and my orientation. […] I am grateful to God for implanting within me the courage and capability to face myself and to strive to live for and to live with honesty and happiness. […] There is no praise or credit due you nor any blame or guilt to accrue because of this fact. I am gay. The etiology of this fact is due to some unknown quotient of genetic, biologic and environmental factors beyond anyone’s discernment. Nothing you could have done would have changed my basic nature, and I hope that at some point you can feel as sure as I do that, I would not have had it any other way. I am the same intelligent, loving, caring, religious jew, and it is a credit that your and אבא’s (father) parenting combined with my being gay has resulted in this particular blend of unique human that I am and I will yet be. […] this does not affect my becoming a rabbi. I intend to finish the year as planned. In fact, I knew long before I applied to rabbinical school—in the early stages of deciding about the possibility of becoming a rabbi—that should I pursue this career that it could never be in a heterosexual guise. I believe that my honesty with myself about this point can only enhance my ability to perform professionally. I can better be of help and service to others only when I am content with myself. Perhaps at some time I share with you specifics on how I attempt to achieve a synthesis of tradition and living gay or more specifics of my career plans”.

This example reflects how coming out involves significant courage after years of hiding, along with gendered melancholy experienced (Butler 1995), as a result of feelings of alienation and otherness. The writer’s response proves that the attempt to bridge Jewish identity with sexual identity has actually succeeded; without any conflict, the writer also absolves parents of any feelings of guilt.

The previous responses prove that their attempt to bridge their religious identity with their homosexual identity has successfully intersected; the justification of the rabbinical profession and the commitment to the role is clearly evident in their coming out narrative. A similar approach is faithfully reflected in a letter that is also attached to this manual. This letter was written by 29 lesbian and gay Conservative, Reform, Orthodox, and Reconstructionist11 rabbis from across North America, following the CCAR12 resolution to ordain and accept openly gay and lesbian rabbis, which caused some negative reactions:

“As rabbis, we preach, teach, counsel, and minister to the Jewish community. We are respected spiritual leaders. We have welcomed babies into our communities. We have trained and inspired countless B’nai and B’not Mitzvah… We have observed, taught and perpetuated mitzvot. What distresses us is the demand that we separate our personal lives from our rabbinic careers. It is time for us to be accepted for who we really are: committed Jews and rabbis who also are lesbian and gay men. We would like to be open with those whom we serve, both for their sake and for our own. Many of us continue to pay a terrible price for living two lives, yet we fear that the consequences of “coming out” would be even more damaging, including the possibility of losing the jobs which we hold and having to leave the profession which we cherish. A few of us have “come out” to find new challenges confronting us as we continue to serve the Jewish people, and fortunately some of us have found both ourselves and our communities enriched by our openness”.

When the rabbi decided to come out of the closet in front of his/her congregants, it was a strong movement. On 11 March 1994, Rabbi Gregory J. Kanter from Temple Israel, Minneapolis (MN), did so while delivering his sermon on the Torah portion of Pikudei: “For me there was no other way. I would hardly recommend coming out the way I did to anyone who faces a similar struggle”. From his sermon:

“Tonight, as we conclude the book of Exodus, we read God’s instructions to Moses. This our instruction manual for making a Jewish leader…You know that I am a rabbi and now you know that I am gay. Because I am this congregation’s rabbi, your rabbi, and because I now choose to share this news with you, our lives may change. Together we will determine what course they take… As I have been reminded over and over again in recent days, there should come a time when the kind of public declaration that I made becomes unnecessary. Believe me, I pray for a time when men and women like me can simply live their lives openly without the help of the media… I made the choice to share my news with you and I believe fervently that the right to make that choice rests with each individual… Tonight, friends, we conclude the book of Exodus. How appropriate it is that I also conclude a chapter in the unfolding story of my life”.

In addition to the previous personal testimonies and the reflection of balancing personal authenticity with community considerations, the manual suggests a workshop based on inter-subjective sharing and a supportive setting. Tom Rawson presented the Homophobia Workshop Model, which offers educational programs that cover various topics, such as handling situations when interacting with individuals who identify as homosexual, fostering respectful conversations, and creating a safe community space. To allow enough time for significant issues to emerge and be adequately addressed, the suggested workshop duration is six hours; however, a two-hour session may succeed in introducing a small number of participants to the subject matter. In each workshop, the participants explore the considerable parallels between the gay and Jewish experience:

“We call these Unlearning Homophobia workshops to empathize that homophobia is an attitude that everyone in our culture learns, which can be “unlearned” through exposure to sound information, by listening to others, and by reflecting on our own experiences. In the workshops, participants are asked to share their perceptions in an atmosphere free of judgment. In doing so, they come to see how their own attitudes are no different from those of friends and colleagues—how, in fact, all of us have been shaped by homophobic attitudes of our society, and how we can challenge these attitudes”.

Rawson explained that in the context of a supportive group, a workshop enables participants to examine their personal issues related to homophobia, their relationships with people of different sexual orientations, their own sexual identities and the ways in which attitudes about lesbians and gay men are perpetuated in society-at-large and in the Jewish community in particular. The workshop centers on personal storytelling and emphasizes the importance of sharing in groups. According to Rawson, the most effective initial workshops are those specifically for heterosexuals.

6. Sacred Support: Biblical Resources for LGBTQ+ Identity Advocacy

The following findings demonstrate how text-centered approaches, specifically the use of biblical scriptures, traditional Jewish values, language, and religious rhetoric, are utilized to confront homophobia and advocate for a respectful discourse that recognizes homosexuality in Jewish communities, as well as in broader society.

In her paper, Toward Open Jewish Communities, Rabbi Rebecca Alpert13 suggests the idea of celebrating gay and lesbian awareness. Rabbi Alpert, as a lesbian rabbi, offers the following text-based prompt for discussion:

“To use text such as Leviticus for the purpose of education and ultimately for affirmation. To that end, I would like to suggest that the week or weeks when these texts are read be designed as Gay and Lesbian Awareness Weeks in the Jewish community. To designate one or two weeks in the year to be devoted to issues related to gay and lesbian Jews will be enormously helpful in making gay Jews and our families and friends feel welcome. Gay and Lesbian Awareness Weeks can take a variety of forms and include many different activities. What follows are some suggestions for events that congregations can organize”.

In other words, she seeks to present the text and sources, even if they are texts that affirm homosexuality as a sin. Moreover, regardless of their history as violent texts, she calls to reclaim the biblical narrative and space to make it egalitarian.

Rabbi Denise L. Eger and Lesley M. Silverstone also focused on texts as important resources. In For Jewish Educators: Teaching about Homosexuality, they clarify the following:

“First, we must address a frequently stated concern: do we teach about homosexuality, or do we teach homosexuality? Given the many myths that abound about homosexuals and homosexuality, it is necessary to clarify at the outset that no one can teach another person to be gay or lesbian”.

On the second page, they explain the importance of the text-centered approach:

“One of the many possible approaches to teaching about homosexuality in the Jewish classroom, the one most often used is the text-centered approach. Utilizing biblical references along with Talmudic discussion, the classic arguments against homosexuality are presented as well as presenting additional responsa and articles. The array provides specific questions that students should ask themselves, not about their sexual identity, but about how they perceive stigmas and stereotypes towards gays, and the Jewish egalitarian approaches they would suggest to address these issues”.

Rabbi J.B. Sacks, who is one of the creators of this manual, was trying to develop an egalitarian view among readers based on traditional Jewish values. He explains the following by reference to biblical and Talmudic resources for Jewish values: (1) B’Tselem Elohim—reflecting God’s Image: Since every person retains part of God’s image, we must treat all with dignity; (2) Chesed V’emet—To help someone without the expectation of reward is a special act of kindness; and (3) Kol Yisrael Areivim ze baze—all Jews are responsible for one another, along with other social values that maintain Jewish collective responsibility.

In addition, Rabbi Sheila Weinberg offered a Reconstructionist approach: “Jewish values that affirm the inherent dignity, integrity and equality of human beings have primacy over the traditional prohibitions based on the biblical, rabbinic and medieval texts condemning same gender sexual activity. We accept it as our sacred task to correct the injustices of the past and fulfill the Jewish obligation to seek justice” (p. 295). This particular decision to include in the manual a representative from the Reconstructionist movement along with an Orthodox rabbi and a female Reform rabbi also demonstrates that this is not solely a matter of unanimity within one Jewish stream but rather reflects a widely accepted cross-community ideology.

Another source was the holiday or Shabbat rabbinical sermon. In his sermon on parashat (portion) Mishpatim (Ordinances), Rabbi Jesse Krasnow, as a heterosexual male, addressed bias against the gay community:

“In Mishpatim, the mitzvah to refrain from oppressing a stranger appears not once but twice in virtually identical form. In fact, this mitzvah, if far away the most often found commandment … While we have many human values, I think the three most essential ones are human dignity, kedusha or holiness, and the basic need to live in a loving caring relationship. The essence of dignity is to experience the dignity of selfhood or personality. By asking gay men or women to deny their identities, we are stripping them of their human dignity. This is the first step in dividing them from the Jewish community and making them strangers if they refuse to submit. Holiness, kedusha, can be defined as acts which give significance in moral and spiritual terms. These acts are often expressed through ritual and practice which follow the commandment in Leviticus to “be holy as God is holy”. Aren’t we forcing them away from Judaism into the realm of strangers?”

As Mishpatim details numerous commandments and laws, primarily those related to the legal domain, it also lists commandments between a person and God, which effectively continue the Ten Commandments and the mitzvot mentioned at the end of the previous portion, Yitro, which together form the Book of the Covenant upon which the covenant between the Israelites and God is sealed. In this way, Rabbi Krasnow anchors the acceptance of LGBTQ+ individuals as part of the Ten Commandments that obligate individuals to morality, ethics, and human dignity.

One more sermon is that of Rabbi Yoel H. Kahn, one of the first and most well-known American gay reform rabbis,14 which he delivered at Temple Brit Kodesh, Rochester, New York, on 16 March 1990 under the title Including Non-Traditional Families in the Synagogue:

“Adam and Eve, the first family, have trouble putting down roots because they are transferred by the corporation just when they are getting used to their first home. A few verses later, the text marks the first recorded case of family violence when one son rises up kills the other. The first unclear family is not very promising beginning…and the pattern continues… I am not here to recommend the abolishment of the family, or even to propose radical alterations or rearrangement—however, I do suggest that our discussion needs a bit more honesty… how our synagogues can be more inclusive is to resist the continual subdividing of our families.

… This week’s Torah portion Ki Tisah, begins with the words ‘Ki Tisah et rosh adt b’nai Yisrael’, ‘when you take a census of the Israelite people…’ Now the Hebrew phrase, Ki Tisah, is not just ‘count’, which the English words census suggests to us: it literally means ‘when you lift up the heads of the people of Israel to see who is numbered amongst them, for to be numbered come when all of our families can proudly lift their heads and be fully numbered amongst the people and household of Israel…’ I believe that a truly inclusive synagogue community can and should give full recognition and value to the non-traditional families in our community and in our synagogue… Honoring a lesbian couple by having them light candles on shabbat at our synagogue is not going to dissuade any of our young people from heterosexual marriage: it can be a model for all of us thought about possibility of enduring commitments in the face of adversity and send a message to the 10% of our children and adults who are gay that have place in a synagogue”.

In his sermon, Rabbi Kahn uses the Bible to illustrate the diversity within families and the extent to which the family is a fluid and changing social structure, dependent on historical and environmental context. He sought to mitigate apprehension and concerns about encountering LGBTQ+ families by, among other ways, offering practical advice to facilitate the integration of LGBTQ+ congregants into communal ritual practice through citations from the Torah portion.

Furthermore, not only were rabbinical sermons framed by religious narrative and languages, but texts were also written by professionals. For instance, Esther Ticktin15, a psychotherapist in Washington, D.C., wrote Devar Torah16 Egypt’s Sin: Oppressing Those Who Are ‘Different’ (28 May 1986). She mobilizes the Holocaust and the traumatic history of the Jewish nation to justify the importance of accepting the other while drawing on biblical verses:

“The particulars of our laws have certainly changed over the centuries. No one reading the beginning of Parashat Akharey Mot17 will claim that we observe Yom Kippur today just as the Torah describes it. As post-Holocaust Jews, therefore, we must interpret the command not to copy the evil practices of the lands which we came as an injunction to stand with our homosexual brothers and sisters and against intolerance and discrimination. We must do so because we were told and believe ‘You shall keep my charge not to engage in any of the abhorrent practices that were carried on before you, lest you defile yourself through them: I the Lord am your God’”.

(Lev. 18:30)

7. Discussion: Toward a Religious Egalitarian Strategy to LGBTQ+ Inclusion

“The biblical principle ‘Na’asay V’nishma’ has guided the Jewish people over centuries to act based on an intrinsic understanding and not wait to have God’s will be certain. We must act now to create communities with open hearts and open doors that don’t alienate and turn away our fellow Jews” (p. 78)

In this article, I aimed to demonstrate how a grassroots initiative by three Conservative rabbinical students, driven by a sense of Jewish communal responsibility and recognition of LGBTQ+ legitimacy, led to the creation of a comprehensive manual for community development. This booklet included poignant letters and confessions about coming out experiences, educational programs on sexuality and gender issues, and sermons by rabbis seeking to offer queer interpretations of Torah.

My analysis focuses on two main tactics revealed in the materials. First, I discuss the tactic of recognizing personal storytelling, based on the idea that it can evoke empathy, identification, solidarity, compassion, and concern. Amplifying personal narratives publicly can be seen as crucial to reduce LGBTQ+ phobia and alienation because personal encounters create an intimate moment that cannot be replicated by mere lectures with statistics and explanations.

Second, language holds significant power in shaping discourse, particularly in Jewish discourse rich in biblical quotations and expressions representing Jewish values. All of these factors are harnessed to promote the message of inclusivity for gay individuals within the community. Deconstructing the biblical text and reinterpreting the weekly Torah portion in a new light situates Jewish tradition and textual tradition not as condemnatory and exclusionary but as a political resource and significant agent for advancing gay religious integration.

Both signify the development of an inclusive theology and queer hermeneutics, where theology embraces homosexual identities as integral to divine creation. This process involves reinterpreting sacred texts to foster an inclusive understanding of gender and sexuality. Additionally, it employs queer perspectives to critique traditional interpretations of religious texts, emphasizing inclusivity and diversity within tradition.

Kupper and Kaplan (2010, p. 175) observed how LGBTQ+ activists recruit arguments in favor of a consensus of morality and social order that serve as the cultural core common to them and their audience, whose main values are liberalism, while they try to convert these consensuses and adapt them to the alternative social structure they propose. Similarly, I see how the documents studied in this work shed light on a related mechanism: The rabbis in their sermons and writings on educational activities use Jewish language, citing sources, in order to communicate with the target audience to whom they ‘sell their product’.

Bernstein (2005) surveyed the identity dilemmas of social movements and emphasized the heterogeneity of their actions. She noted that managing identities within movements for social change is a research area with many unanswered questions, including how to understand the connection between activist life experiences and personal stances, as well as organizational positioning. I show how this mission of navigating between identities and affiliations in Jewish communities becomes harmonious and not only conflictual work by centralizing personal narrative and reclaiming Jewish language and textuality.

In addition, the non-Orthodox approach to justifying homosexuality within the Jewish framework parallels the Orthodox justification for transgender individuals. Maier (2022) noted that studies on Orthodox Judaism’s stance on transgender identity frequently center on Talmudic justifications for accepting or rejecting transgender Jews while overlooking the growing influence of secular politics within the American Orthodox community. On the one hand, this correlation highlights an evolving epistemology of existentialist recognition (by using Jewish texts to create a discussion about sexual and gender issues), but on the other hand, the Conservative manual allows for an epistemology of social recognition.

This discussion makes a significant contribution to research on sexual education, especially within a religious context. First, much of the literature on religious education tends to focus on the exoticism of Orthodoxy, emphasizing a world of prohibition and permission (Diament 2007). In contrast, this research offers a historical-sociological understanding of a non-Orthodox religious movement that includes sexual education discourse. Second, it shifts the focus away from educational institutions and to a religious institution, the synagogue. This shift contributes to our understanding that in the post-modern era, a synagogue is not merely a place of worship but also an educational space for knowledge assimilation and the facilitation of socio-cultural processes. For instance, Libel-Hass and Ferziger (2022) illustrate how religious communities become providers of various local social needs, even those not necessarily stemming from religious motivations.

Moreover, this study broadens our understanding of the role of the rabbi today, who is not only a preacher addressing halachic issues but also a bona fide educational figure. Within liberal currents, where the rabbi’s role may not necessarily be that of an authoritarian teacher but rather a spiritual guide who acknowledges the complete freedom of choice for community members, the role of the rabbi often takes on a structured teacher/educator role. Following Grant and Muszkat-Barkan (2011), who concluded that Reform rabbis and rabbis from other denominations shape their rabbinic identity and leadership concepts while incorporating their educational approach and sometimes even their pedagogical methods, the Conservative manual’s materials demonstrate how rabbis play a crucial educational role as authoritative leaders who confirm the recognition of LGBTQ+ life.

Wertheimer, in The New American Judaism (Wertheimer 2018), argues that despite frequent predictions of decline or assimilation, American Judaism is not disappearing. Rather, it is evolving in creative and diverse ways to meet the needs of modern Jews. He offers a nuanced account of how congregations, rabbis, and laypeople address challenges such as intermarriage, LGBTQ inclusion, and shifting patterns of worship. Ultimately, Wertheimer sees these developments as signs of a vibrant and adaptive religious landscape, rather than evidence of decline. My study builds on his contemporary conclusion by identifying and analyzing the early stages of this emerging socio-cultural trend within American Judaism, specifically in the Conservative Movement.

In summary, at the three-decade publication anniversary of this pioneering manual, one can trace LGBTQ+ acceptance within the American Conservative movement along the timeline. It is possible to identify trends of change that this manual inspired in this social and organizational transformation. Looking back, Rabbi Paasche-Orlow and Rabbi Rosenn optimistically blessed the significant developments indicating increased LGBTQ+ acceptance in the Conservative Jewish community:

“I think the movement moved ahead faster than we could have imagined during that decade when it was stuck. Some of the most visionary and brilliant LGBTQ leaders have come from the Conservative Movement and JTS, and now there is great work being done to have a community where all people can belong and live meaningful Jewish lives”.

(Rabbi Paasche-Orlow, September 2023)

“Thirty years has brought a lot of welcome change in both the Conservative movement and the general society. LGBTQ people are now taking on leadership roles in schools, synagogues, camps and other Conservative Jewish institutions. Gay Conservative Jews and everyone else have the benefit of a much more diverse religious leadership that better reflects the diversity of people in the movement. There is still progress to be made, but the circumstances that made a publication like Afakim BaNegev necessary in 1994 no longer prevail in American Judaism, todah la-El”.

(Rabbi Rosenn, September 2023)