Yes, Orthodoxy is still to blame

The Jerusalem Gay Pride Parade in 2005. The man who stabbed six marchers yesterday had just finished serving a 10-year prison sentence for stabbing participants at the 2005 parade. | <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:JerusalemPride2005.jpg">Supplied by Pato12seg [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons</a>

The Jerusalem Gay Pride Parade in 2005. The man who stabbed six marchers yesterday had just finished serving a 10-year prison sentence for stabbing participants at the 2005 parade. | Supplied by Pato12seg [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons
The Jerusalem Gay Pride Parade in 2005. The ultra-Orthodox man who stabbed six marchers at yesterday’s event had recently finished serving a 10-year prison sentence for attempted murder after stabbing participants at the 2005 parade. | Supplied by Pato12seg [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons
Yesterday, I was reminded that the world in which I grew up — the Orthodox world — is one toward which I feel a sense of affinity, but also fear. The stabbing at Jerusalem Pride, carried out by a man who committed a similar crime a decade ago, confirmed this for me. I can love the Orthodox world, I can owe it a debt of gratitude, but I still can never feel safe there.

That is an alarming message to receive time after time. Orthodoxy is still to blame for the attack at Jerusalem Pride.

The Orthodox Jewish establishment can wash its hands of the man who stabbed six people, and claim that he does not speak for Orthodoxy, but the fact of the matter remains: This man is a product of the Orthodox establishment. This man is not a lone fox, an outlier in the Orthodox world. To say that he doesn’t speak for Orthodoxy is a cop-out. It frees the Orthodox establishment from blame.

But Orthodoxy needs to be held culpable for the monsters that it produces.

Orthodox rabbis can claim to be allies who support LGBTQ rights. They can support the Supreme Court’s decision to expand marriage equality to all 50 states, but then they stop just short of performing those marriages themselves. The message is clear: LGBTQ inclusion is all well and good until it rubs up against what they see as good and traditional. And this attack, just like moments we’ve seen before, is rife with the same hypocrisy. You can be an ally to the LGBTQ community up until the point at which it inconveniences you, the point at which it challenges the gendered bedrock upon which you build your communities.

So, to the Orthodox leaders out there, I want to say: Stop it. Stop pretending to be allies by washing your hands of this senseless hatred and violence. Take ownership of it. Cry and pray for healing along with the other queer Jews who are hurting and recovering. Remember the queer Jews who grew up — or continue to live — in Orthodox communities. Remember that however affirming you might be, you continue to work within the very same system that produced the attack on six lives at Jerusalem Pride. Saying that this is not Orthodox Judaism, or even Judaism at all, is escaping culpability and removing yourself from the situation right when you are needed as an ally the most.

It is high time that we — queer Jews in general, and queer Jews who have some connection to Orthodoxy in particular — end our complacency with the small, disparate pieces of acceptance from Orthodox rabbis who condemn this by telling us that this one attacker does not speak for Orthodoxy. We should not be satisfied with being merely let into the door or given an Aliyah (for those of us in Orthodox communities who are men). That will not change the systemic inequality we face in the name of Orthodox legal tradition.

We forget about systemic inequality sometimes, but we should do our best to remember that if Orthodoxy can produce senseless violence against queer people, then there’s still much more work to be done. We should not be complacent with a few Orthodox rabbis’ efforts to try and divert attention from that. Being an ally to LGBTQ people doesn’t just involve supporting marriage equality or washing your hands of violence. It means accepting that LGBTQ people are still not seen as equals — not just because some radical man stabbed six innocent people at a Pride parade, but because you, also, have not yet finished your work as an ally. If we want to truly correct the tragedy that one man wrought, then the Orthodox community needs to take responsibility for the violence it causes by implementing substantive changes to its communities and community policies.

I can be welcomed as a queer person in Orthodox communities, but I will still be fundamentally unequal if the rabbi of my Orthodox congregation refuses to officiate my marriage. I still have to find specifically LGBTQ spaces to be treated as fully equal. I will still struggle to find an Orthodox religious court to convert the children I want to adopt one day. Finding an Orthodox day school will be an uphill battle. That is separate, not equal.

No number of condemnations will make right the wrong that was committed against us queer Jews at Jerusalem Pride. No declarations against senseless violence will give young queer Jews who grew up Orthodox hope that there is a future for themselves in Orthodoxy. This attack at Jerusalem Pride has shattered the hope I had for a better future. If we want to give young queer Orthodox Jews a better future, then we need to take this as an opportunity upon which we can build substantive change for the better.

This attack happened on the afternoon before the fifteenth of the Jewish month of Av, just six days after the fast of the Ninth of Av, when we mourn baseless hatred as the reason for the destruction of the Temples. The Fifteenth of Av is an historic celebration of love. Today, I want to love, but all I can do is cry.

I hope that one day soon, Orthodoxy can genuinely cry with me. And when it wipes the tears from its eyes, I hope that Orthodoxy is ready to get back to work.

 

Amram Altzman is a student at List College.

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