Thursday, February 23, 2017

Fenrir the Wolf & Samson: Fairy Tales & the Bible

I've spoken often of a course I could give on Fairy Tales (and Mythology) and the Bible. Noted author Neil Gaiman has recently released his retellings of Norse myths, appropriately titled Norse Mythology. His collection is eminently readable, and in the tale of Fenrir the Wolf, Loki's son, readers will recognize strong similarities to our Samson story. I've reproduced Gaiman's retelling of the story below.

---
Excerpted from Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman, pages 97-106 

When they had brought the third and smallest of Loki's children back from the land of the giants, it had been puppy-sized and Tyr had scratched its neck and its head and played with it, removing its willow muzzle first. It was a wolf cub, gray and black, with eyes the color of dark amber.

The wolf cub ate its meat raw, but it spoke as a man would speak, in the language of men and the gods, and it was proud. The little beast was called Fenrir.

It too was growing fast. One day it was the size of a wolf, the next the size of a cave bear, then the size of a great elk.

The gods were intimidated by it, all except Tyr. He still played with it and romped with it, and he alone fed the wolf its meat each day. And each day the beast ate more than the day before, and each day it grew and it became fiercer and stronger.

Odin watched the wolf-child grow with foreboding, for in his dreams the wolf had been there at the end of everything, and the last things Odin had seen in any of his dreams of the future were the topaz eyes and the sharp white teeth of Fenris Wolf.

The gods had a council and resolved at that council that they would bind Fenrir.

They crafted heavy chains and shackles in the forges of the gods, and they carried the shackles to Fenrir.

"Here!" said the gods, as if suggesting a new game. "You have grown so fast, Fenrir. It is time to test your strength. We have here the heaviest chains and shackles. Do you think you can break them?"

"I think I can," said Fenris Wolf. "Bind me."

The gods wrapped the huge chains around Fenrir and shackled his paws. He waited motionless while they did this. The gods smiled at each other as they chained the enormous wolf.

"Now," shouted Thor.

Fenrir strained and stretched the muscles of his legs, and the chains snapped like dry twigs.

The great wolf howled to the moon, a howl of triumph and joy. "I broke your chains," he said. "Do not forget this."

"We will not forget," said the gods.

The next day Tyr went to take the wolf his meat. "I broke the fetters," said Fenrir. "I broke them easily."

"You did," said Tyr.

"Do you think they will test me again? I grow, and I grow stronger with every day."

"They will test you again. I would wager my right hand on it," said Tyr.

The wolf was still growing, and the gods were in the smithies, forging a new set of chains. Each link in the chains was too heavy for a normal man to lift. The metal of the chains was the strongest metal that the gods could find: iron from the earth mixed with iron that had fallen from the sky. They called these chains Dromi.

The gods hauled the chains to where Fenrir slept.

The wolf opened his eyes.

"Again?" he said.

"If you can escape from these chains," said the gods, "then your renown and your strength will be known to all the worlds. Glory will be yours. If chains like this cannot hold you, then your strength will be greater than that of any of the gods or the giants."

Fenrir nodded at this, and looked at the chains called Dromi, bigger than any chains had ever been, stronger than the strongest of bonds. "There is no glory without danger," said the wolf after some moments. "I believe I can break these bindings. Chain me up."

They chained him.

The great wolf stretched and strained, but the chains held. The gods looked at each other, and there was the beginning of triumph in their eyes, but now the huge wolf began to twist and to writhe, to kick out his legs and strain in every muscle and every sinew. His eyes flashed and his teeth flashed and his jaws foamed.

He growled as he writhed. He struggled with all his might.

The gods moved back involuntarily, and it was good that they did so, for the chains fractured and then broke with such violence that the pieces were thrown far into the air, and for years to come the gods would find lumps of shattered shackles embedded in the sides of huge trees or the side of a mountain.

"Yes!" shouted Fenrir, and howled in his victory like a wolf and like a man.

The gods who had watched the struggle did not seem, the wolf observed, to delight in his victory. Not even Tyr. Fenrir, Loki's child, brooded on this, and on other matters.

And Fenris Wolf grew huger and hungrier with each day that passed.

Odin brooded and he pondered and he thought. All the wisdom of Mimir's well was his, and the wisdom he had gained from hanging from the world-tree, a sacrifice to himself. At last he called the light elf Skirnir, Frey's messenger, to his side, and he described the chain called Gleipnir. Skirnir rode his horse across the rainbow bridge to Svartalfheim, with instructions to the dwarfs for how to create a chain unlike anything ever made before.

The dwarfs listened to Skirnir describe the commission, and they shivered, and they named their price. Skirnir agreed, as he had been instructed to do by Odin, although the dwarfs' price was high. The dwarfs gathered the ingredients they would need to make Gleipnir.

These were the six things the dwarfs gathered:

For firstly, the footsteps of a cat.
For secondly, the beard of a woman.
For thirdly, the roots of a mountain.
For fourthly, the sinews of a bear.
For fifthly, the breath of a fish.
For sixth and lastly, the spittle of a bird.

Each of these things was used to make Gleipnir. (You say you have not seen these things? Of course you have not. The dwarfs used them in their crafting.)

When the dwarfs had finished their crafting, they gave Skirnir a wooden box. Inside the box was something that looked like a long silken ribbon, smooth and soft to the touch. It was almost transparent, and weighed next to nothing.

Skirnir rode back to Asgard with  his box at his side. He arrived late in the evening, after the sun had set. He showed the gods what he had brought back from the workshop of the dwarfs, and they were amazed to see it.

The gods went together to the shores of the Black Lake, and they called Fenrir by name. He came at a run, as a dog will come when it is called, and the gods marveled to see how big he was and how powerful.

"What's happening?" asked the wolf.

"We have obtained the strongest bond of all," they told him. "Not even you will be able to break it."

The wolf pupped himself up. "I can burst any chains," he told them proudly.

Odin opened his hand to display Gleipnir. It shimmered in the moonlight.

"That?" said the wolf. "That is nothing."

The gods pulled on it to show him how strong it was. "We cannot break it," they told him.

The wolf squinted at the silken band that they held between them, glimmering like a snail's trail or the moonlight on the waves, and he turned away, uninterested.

"No," he said. "Bring me real chains, real fetters, heavy ones, huge ones, and let me show my strength."

"This is Gleipnir," said Odin. "It is stronger than any chains or fetters. Are you scared, Fenrir?"

"Scared? Not at all. But what happens if I break a thin ribbon like that. Do you think I will get renown and fame? That people will gather together and say, 'Do you know how strong and powerful Fenris Wolf is? He is so powerful he broke a silken ribbon!' There will be no glory for me in breaking Gleipnir."

"You are scared," said Odin.

The great beast sniffed the air. "I scent treachery and trickery," said the wolf, his amber eyes flashing in the moonlight. "And although I think your Gleipnir may only be a ribbon, I will not consent to be tied up by it."

"You? You who broke the strongest, biggest chains there ever were? You are scared by this band?" said Thor.

"I am scared of nothing," growled the wolf. "I think it is rather that you little creatures are scared of me."

Odin scratched his bearded chin. "You are not stupid, Fenrir. There is no treachery here. But I understand your reluctance. It would take a brave warrior to consent to be tied up with bonds he could not break. I assure you, as the father of the gods, that if you cannot break a band like this- a veritable silken ribbon, as you say- then we gods will have no reason to be afraid of you, and we will set you free and let you go your own way."

A long growl, from the wolf. "You lie, All-father. You lie in the way that some folk breathe. If you were to tie me up in bonds I could not escape from, then I do not believe you would free me. I think you would leave me here. I think you plan to abandon me and to betray me. I do not consent to have that ribbon placed on me."

"Fine words, and brave words," said Odin. "Words to cover your fear at being proved a coward, Fenris Wolf. You are afraid to be tied with this silken ribbon. No need for more explanations."

The wolf's tongue lolled from his mouth, and he laughed then, showing sharp teeth each the size of a man's arm. "Rather than question my courage, I challenge you to prove there is no treachery planned. You can tie me up if one of you will place his hand in my mouth. I will gently close my teeth upon it, but I will not bite down. If there is no treachery afoot, I will open my mouth when I have escaped the ribbon, or when you have freed me, and his hand will be unharmed. There. I swear, if I have a hand in my mouth, you can tie me with your ribbon. So. Whose hand will it be?"

The gods looked at each other. Balder looked at Thor, Heimdall looked at Odin, Hoenir looked at Frey, but none of them made a move. Then Tyr, Odin's son, sighed, and stepped forward and raised his right hand.

"I will put my hand in your mouth, Fenrir," said Tyr.

Fenrir lay on his side, and Tyr put his right hand into Fenrir's mouth, just as he had done when Fenrir was a puppy and they had played together. Fenrir closed his teeth gently until they held Tyr's hand at the wrist without breaking the skin, and he closed his eyes.

The gods bound him with Gleipnir. A shimmering snail's trail wrapped the enormous wolf, tying his legs, rendering him immobile.

"There," said Odin. "Now, Fenris Wolf, break your bonds. Show us all how powerful you are."

The wolf stretched and struggled; it pushed and strained every nerve and muscle to snap the ribbon that bound it. But with every struggle the task seemed harder and with every strain the glimmering ribbon became stronger.

At first the gods snickered. Then the gods chuckled. Finally, when they were certain that the beast had been immobilized and that they were in no danger, the gods laughed.

Only Tyr was silent. He did not laugh. He could feel the sharpness of Fenris Wolf's teeth against his wrist, the wetness and warmth of Fenris Wolf's tongue against his palms and his fingers.

Fenrir stopped struggling. He lay there unmoving. If the gods were going to free him, they would do it now.

But the gods only laughed the harder. Thor's booming guffaws, each louder than a thunderclap, mingled with Odin's dry laughter, with Balder's bell-like laughter...

Fenrir looked at Tyr. Tyr looked at him bravely. Then Tyr closed his eyes and nodded. "Do it," he whispered.

Fenrir bit down on Tyr's wrist.

Tyr made no sound. He simply wrapped his left hand around the stump of his right and squeezed it as hard as he could, to slow the spurt of blood to an ooze.

Fenrir watched the gods take one end of Gleipnir and thread it through a stone as big as a mountain and fasten it under the ground. Then he watched as they took another rock and used it to hammer the stone deeper into the ground than the deepest ocean.

"Treacherous Odin!" called the wolf. "If you had not lied to me, I would have been a friend to the gods. But your fear has betrayed you. I will kill you, Father of the Gods. I will wait until the end of all things, and I will eat the sun and I will eat the moon. But I will take the most pleasure in killing you."

---

Please compare this story to the one about Samon and Delilah in the Book of Judges, Chapter 16.

I am most interested in the similarities and differences between the two tales.

In the case of Fenrir, he is a wolf with the attributes of a man. He can speak and reason as a man. In the case of Samson, he is a man who has the attributes of an animal. As a consecrated Nazirite, his hair is long, unbound and wild, uncut. He is extraordinarily strong and powerful.

Fenrir's strength comes from an unholy place, the union between Loki (a god) and a frost giant. In contrast, Samson's strength comes from his devotion and allegiance to the Lord.

Samson is undone because he loves Delilah and her loyalties lie with her Philistine people. In contrast, Fenrir is undone because he cannot resist pride (showing off his strength) and he is betrayed by Tyr, his childhood friend, and Odin, father of the gods.

It takes four tries for Samson to finally reveal the secret of his strength (and for Delilah to cut off his hair) while it takes three tries to successfully entrap Fenrir. The fourth try is unusual in the Samson story as such stories typically fit the trope of three.

I didn't write this part of the story, but Fenrir's mouth is jammed open with a sword to prevent him from biting down and harming others. Similarly, Samson is blinded (to humiliate him, but perhaps also so that he would not be able to find and harm others if he were sighted).

At Ragnorak, Fenrir will succeed in killing all the gods. In the Samson tale, once Samson's hair has grown back and he entreats God, he brings down the entire Temple of Dagon around the Philistines' ears.

What I think is fascinating is that Fenrir's tale focuses upon an unjust betrayal (from his viewpoint) as he has not actually harmed any gods yet. It also teaches about how pride can lead to one's downfall. Granted, Fenrir's trust in Tyr is also a problem, but it is not the main problem. In contrast, Samson's tale is a critique of Samson in that he trusts the wrong person (Delilah). He has already fought against the Philistines and thus they are justified in considering him an enemy. In his case, it is love that leads to his downfall. In Norse mythology, the Fenrir tale is another tale of the gods' cunning and trickiness. In Judaism, the focus is on the flawed nature of Samson as a judge. Where the emphasis in the story is placed is important as it helps stress what each worldview finds to be most significant. The Judaic emphasis is on the flawed nature of man, his tendency towards seduction (or short term gratification), but how even he can be redeemed. There is no such moral in the Fenrir version. There, cunning and trickiness win out in the short term, but one day Fenrir will have his due.

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Solomon's Tikkun: The Restoration of Justice

Once upon a time there was a young boy crowned only through the efforts of fierce protectors. Warned by his ailing father, he found himself surrounded by enemies. Summarily, he banished one, placed one under close guard and executed another. Weary of his efforts, at last his kingdom was won. But a challenge remained: he needed to win the hearts of his people.

This boy's name was Solomon.

When we read the scene where God appears to Solomon in a night vision, it appears as though part of a fairy tale, as if Solomon were visited by a djinn.  And though he can choose anything, anything at all, the youth, wise beyond his years, makes the following request:
ט  וְנָתַתָּ לְעַבְדְּךָ לֵב שֹׁמֵעַ, לִשְׁפֹּט אֶת-עַמְּךָ, לְהָבִין, בֵּין-טוֹב לְרָע:  כִּי מִי יוּכַל לִשְׁפֹּט, אֶת-עַמְּךָ הַכָּבֵד הַזֶּה.9 Give Thy servant therefore a listening heart to judge Thy people, that I may discern between good and evil; for who is able to judge this Thy great people?'
But why this request? 

The answer that immediately comes to mind is that this is indicative of Solomon's wisdom. He cares for the people and wishes to rule them well. He understands, even at this tender age, that he exists beyond himself, that he is a servant of the nation as well as their leader.

But there is something deeper here.

And that can be uncovered through referencing all of the events prior. Solomon's story begins in context of his brother Adonijah's rebellion. Adonijah has claimed all the trappings of his brother Absalom but he does not share the vision of Absalom. He does not have a reason to rebel. He is simply tired of his weak, dying father. He wishes to seize power for the sake of it. But due to the textual echoes, we, the readers, are put in mind of Absalom. And there is a reason for that...

For Absalom did have a reason to rebel. It was a very compelling reason. 

You see, Absalom had witnessed a terrible miscarriage of justice. His sister was raped by the crown prince, Amnon. And though their father was very wroth, he did not actually do anything. Amnon was not imprisoned. He was not executed. His actions were not checked. And so Absalom took it upon himself to right that wrong, to correct that miscarriage of justice. He arranged for a sheepshearing that was anything but, and at that ostensible celebration he murdered Amnon.

Then he fled to Egypt because he knew his father would not see that justice had been served, but rather would seek to harm him.

Eventually, he returns. But even when he is reunited with his father, he realizes that David does not have the passion for justice that Absalom has. David does not burn with that bright sacred fire. But Absalom is incandescent with it.

And so he acts.

א  וַיְהִי, מֵאַחֲרֵי כֵן, וַיַּעַשׂ לוֹ אַבְשָׁלוֹם, מֶרְכָּבָה וְסֻסִים; וַחֲמִשִּׁים אִישׁ, רָצִים לְפָנָיו.1 And it came to pass after this, that Absalom prepared him a chariot and horses, and fifty men to run before him.
ב  וְהִשְׁכִּים, אַבְשָׁלוֹם, וְעָמַד, עַל-יַד דֶּרֶךְ הַשָּׁעַר; וַיְהִי כָּל-הָאִישׁ אֲשֶׁר-יִהְיֶה-לּוֹ-רִיב לָבוֹא אֶל-הַמֶּלֶךְ לַמִּשְׁפָּט, וַיִּקְרָא אַבְשָׁלוֹם אֵלָיו וַיֹּאמֶר אֵי-מִזֶּה עִיר אַתָּה, וַיֹּאמֶר, מֵאַחַד שִׁבְטֵי-יִשְׂרָאֵל עַבְדֶּךָ.2 And Absalom used to rise up early, and stand beside the way of the gate; and it was so, that when any man had a suit which should come to the king for judgment, then Absalom called unto him, and said: 'Of what city art thou?' And he said: 'Thy servant is of one of the tribes of Israel.'
ג  וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלָיו אַבְשָׁלוֹם, רְאֵה דְבָרֶיךָ טוֹבִים וּנְכֹחִים; וְשֹׁמֵעַ אֵין-לְךָ, מֵאֵת הַמֶּלֶךְ.3 And Absalom said unto him: 'See, thy matters are good and right; but there is no man deputed of the king to hear thee.'
ד  וַיֹּאמֶר, אַבְשָׁלוֹם, מִי-יְשִׂמֵנִי שֹׁפֵט, בָּאָרֶץ; וְעָלַי, יָבוֹא כָּל-אִישׁ אֲשֶׁר-יִהְיֶה-לּוֹ-רִיב וּמִשְׁפָּט--וְהִצְדַּקְתִּיו.4 Absalom said moreover: 'Oh that I were made judge in the land, that every man who hath any suit or cause might come unto me, and I would do him justice!'
ה  וְהָיָה, בִּקְרָב-אִישׁ, לְהִשְׁתַּחֲו‍ֹת, לוֹ; וְשָׁלַח אֶת-יָדוֹ וְהֶחֱזִיק לוֹ, וְנָשַׁק לוֹ.5 And it was so, that when any man came nigh to prostrate himself before him, he put forth his hand, and took hold of him, and kissed him.
ו  וַיַּעַשׂ אַבְשָׁלוֹם כַּדָּבָר הַזֶּה, לְכָל-יִשְׂרָאֵל, אֲשֶׁר-יָבֹאוּ לַמִּשְׁפָּט, אֶל-הַמֶּלֶךְ; וַיְגַנֵּב, אַבְשָׁלוֹם, אֶת-לֵב, אַנְשֵׁי יִשְׂרָאֵל.  {פ}6 And on this manner did Absalom to all Israel that came to the king for judgment; so Absalom stole the hearts of the men of Israel.
Absalom's cause is justice. He is a passionate advocate and he is convincing. He tells the Israelites there is no one there to listen to them. The Israelites believe that they, too, would be better served were Absalom their High Judge in lieu of David. Of Absalom it is written that he "stole the hearts of the men of Israel." Absalom's rebellion was not a plot countenanced by only one tribe, Judah, and by men in high places, Joab and Evyatar. No. Absalom's rebellion was the people's rebellion.

And so when Solomon finishes managing the burdens laid upon him because of his father's past...punishing Joab, Shimi ben Gera, showing mercy to Evyatar and rewarding the Barzillai...he realizes he is not done. His father was many things, a military man, a Godstruck man, a man who created a kingdom out of blood and sweat. But he was not, or at least he was not in the eyes of the people, a just man.

And so when Solomon asks for a listening heart to judge the people, he is not just being astute. He is actively rectifying a grave mistake on his father's part. David lost the people because he was not seen as just. In contrast, Solomon goes out of his way to be just. He is willing to give Adonijah a second chance- but he also carries out swift justice when Adonijah breaks his bond. He asks God to help him remain just. He opens his courtroom to prostitutes. Solomon has just lived through an attempted coup by Adonijah. He has punished Shimi ben Gera, who appeared on the scene in the time of Absalom. And so he thinks about Absalom. He recognizes the threat to his kingdom, the threat to the throne, his father's one great failing. And so, when he speaks to God, he speaks not only for himself but to fix what was broken. To mend what was flawed.

He asks God to help him be the kind of king the people wanted. The king Absalom wished to be, but could not be. The king David showed himself not to be, when he did not punish Amnon at once.

Solomon is wise because he learns from history, and he heeds the echoes of the past. He understands who he must become to retain his people's trust. It is what makes it all the more ironic and tragic when his son Rechavam is unable to hear the people's cries.

Solomon's request is flavored by the past. The monarchic enterprise cannot succeed unless Solomon can restore justice to the throne. And so he acts to mend, to build. He begins his monarchy as one that will heal the rifts that existed in the past. That is what makes it all the more devastating when he later chooses to destroy, building the Millo and breaking David's Breach, creating new rifts. Wisest of all men, Solomon needs to maintain balance between repairing David's legacy and creating his own. Is it any wonder it became too challenging? He sought to create, and his creativity was astonishing. But at one point, his creativity overflowed, tipping the balance. He built, but not on land that truly belonged to him. It was, instead, public property, land upon which the Israelites pitched their tents when gathering for their pilgrimages. He built, and in so doing destroyed the history that came before. His fatal mistake, his eventual downfall, comes due to this. The monarch who began by learning from what came before his time fell at last because he thought himself above those events.

It is history which enwraps, envelops, moves and binds us. Knowing how to learn from it...that is the question.

Yisro and the Mitzri

There is a midrash which suggests that Pharoah spoke his words "Come, let us outsmart them" to three advisers. These advisers were Yisro, Iyov and Bilam respectively. Yisro passionately argued against the monarch's plan. Iyov kept silent. And Bilam vociferously agreed.

Each protagonist meets a doom befitting his actions.

As I was reading through a particular scene, however, I looked at it with new eyes. If we say Yisro was a refugee, someone fleeing Pharoah's justice, it makes sense that Moshe would end up with him. Moshe would need a guide, a mentor, someone to show him the way. In this understanding, it is Yisro who mentors Moshe, who teaches him about monotheism and God, and in effect, who both heals him and prepares him for his encounter with God at the Burning Bush.

But it's the scene after Moshe saving Yisro's daughters that really intrigues me. Here's how the dialogue goes:
יח  וַתָּבֹאנָה, אֶל-רְעוּאֵל אֲבִיהֶן; וַיֹּאמֶר, מַדּוּעַ מִהַרְתֶּן בֹּא הַיּוֹם.18 And when they came to Reuel their father, he said: 'How is it that ye are come so soon to-day?'
יט  וַתֹּאמַרְןָ--אִישׁ מִצְרִי, הִצִּילָנוּ מִיַּד הָרֹעִים; וְגַם-דָּלֹה דָלָה לָנוּ, וַיַּשְׁקְ אֶת-הַצֹּאן.19 And they said: 'An Egyptian delivered us out of the hand of the shepherds, and moreover he drew water for us, and watered the flock.'
כ  וַיֹּאמֶר אֶל-בְּנֹתָיו, וְאַיּוֹ; לָמָּה זֶּה עֲזַבְתֶּן אֶת-הָאִישׁ, קִרְאֶן לוֹ וְיֹאכַל לָחֶם.20 And he said unto his daughters: 'And where is he? Why is it that ye have left the man? call him, that he may eat bread.'
It occurred to me that perhaps the women stress Moshe's identity because they know their father is a refugee. "An Egyptian saved us from the shepherds," they say, and their tone is one of wonder. But perhaps it is also one of concern. This is unlike the habits of the Egypt their father knows, the Pharaoh who enslaves rather than frees, who cares little for justice. Perhaps this Egyptian is here seeking their father- perhaps this kindness is a clever facade. For all they know, this man is an assassin, come to deliver the king's justice.

But it is Yisro who teaches them that fear ought not to hold one back. He is surprised by their concern, chagrined that they would allow the man's nationality to blind them from his actions. Yisro assumes the best, believes the man to be authentic, not a dissembler. He rebukes his daughters, asking them why they have not invited the man home, and telling them to return to find the man and bring him so that he may eat. Despite having been wronged by Egyptians (or by Pharoah himself), despite needing to flee in order to survive, Yisro does not paint everyone with one brush. There can be kind Egyptians. He does not allow his one experience to color everything else.

And so we ought to learn from Yisro, who perhaps took a risk. He decided to judge a man based on what he had done- his actions- not based on his birth or nationality. We can control what we do with our free will; we cannot control the color of our skin, the language of our birth or the blood that flows in our veins. It is our actions that make us who we are- and that is the lesson and legacy of Yisro.

Wednesday, January 04, 2017

Our Community's Shame: The Alienated LGBTQ+ Orthodox Jew

Today, a brave student named Joshua Tranen wrote an article in The Commentator entitled "Why I left YU, and Why I'm Writing About It Now."

Joshua is gay, and that is the sole reason he is now studying at Yale University. He did not feel safe at Yeshiva University. We, members of the Orthodox community, have allowed that to happen. And thus, it is up to us to fix it.

When I was in high school, I underwent some very challenging experiences. I was a seeker, someone who asked a lot of questions, attending a school on the Bais Yaakov spectrum. As you can imagine, this situation led to clashes. I was disturbed by teachers' rhetoric, actions and the ways in which they were allowed to treat me (and others). Despite my pain, the school principal and other members of the rabbinate refused to believe me, support me or help me when I was falsely accused of improper behavior. In the end, I switched from that school to the non-Jewish North Shore Country Day School in Winnetka, an experience which brought me a great deal of healing.

Out of my pain, I once wrote a post to the off the derech community saying that I understood them completely. I had been there. I knew what it was like to be betrayed by the rabbis and teachers who were supposed to be your guides and role models. I knew what it was like to be lied about. I knew what it was like to be hurt. I knew what it was like to be so angry that I felt like Judaism itself was at fault. For two years after my high school experience, I did not touch a siddur, a chumash or engage in typical Jewish study. (I did attend TI and take Jewish Philosophy courses, which were refreshing and helpful when it came to forging my understanding of the religion). I was too angry and too hurt.

And that is the reason that I feel the pain of LGBTQ+ members of our community. People like Joshua have to force themselves to "gather the strength required to learn, for yet another day, alongside rabbis that had publicly called gay people an abomination, blamed them for natural disasters, and advocated for conversion therapy—a pseudoscience so dangerous it has been outlawed in many states." He and others live in fear of being "discovered" or outed.

Joshua shared his gay identity with his roommate. The roommate was so disturbed that he immediately moved out. Now, I understand why this might be. It must be disconcerting to realize that the person you are living with potentially views you as a sexual partner. You probably would have behaved differently (in terms of how you dressed, if nothing else) had you known that. Thus, it is likely the roommate simply felt like his privacy had been invaded and was upset. But to Joshua, his roommate's leaving felt like this person, this individual he had thought was his friend, was saying he would not stand by him. It was deeply painful.

I was at YU when a gay student ran for a position on student council, and I saw the posters put up with quotes about homosexuality and bestiality. (I also saw fellow students tear them down.) I was Editor in Chief of The Observer when Dr. Ladin came out as transgender. I and my staff covered her story. It is an issue of the newspaper of which I remain proud. We had an interview with Dr. Ladin, articles about the halakhic process of transitioning, informational content on what gender dysphoria is, student responses, and interviews with other Orthodox or formerly Orthodox transgender individuals. I was at YU when the historic gay panel took place (I wrote the transcript).

I thought we had gotten past this. I thought our community understood. But it appears the same message needs to be repeated once again. Here it is:

It is entirely possible to be a halakhic Jew who believes certain actions (actions, NOT people) are forbidden according to the law and still- STILL- remain loving, respectful and kind. To understand is not to condone.

A Jewish Orthodox LGBTQ+ individual faces immense struggle. But it is up to God to judge-  not us. Our job is to respect the person, to be kind to them, to reach out to them, to always act out of love. And, of course, to remember that this person is keeping many more mitzvot than they may be transgressing (assuming they are even acting upon their identity.)

So how do we fix it? How do we create an environment where people would not laugh at Ben Shapiro's jokes targeted at transgender individuals? How do we raise kind children? Among other things, we need to provide them with information.

I believe that every Jewish day school should have a class that addresses Contemporary Topics and/or Evaded Issues. (Full disclosure: I teach this class!) I think it is essential that students are actually taught the sources on homosexuality and/or transitioning when one is trans. They should see exactly what the halakha says. And then they should also be taught facts. They should know medical facts about what doctors currently believe it means when one is gay or trans. They should be given knowledge and they should be taught compassion.

We are alienating individuals from the Orthodox community. We are going to lose them. Some of these individuals are our best and brightest minds (this young man went to Yale, which should demonstrate something in itself). And yet, if we continue as we have been, we are going to make our gay, lesbian, bisexual and trans children leave Judaism (certainly Orthodox Judaism).

I am not saying you need to approve or condone every behavior or action. But your qualms, if you have them, should be totally motivated by halakhic adherence, not by personal antipathy, ignorance or disgust. You must act and speak with the greatest kindness. If there is something you cannot do because God has forbidden you to do it, the attitude must be one of sorrow. I wish I could tell you this is permitted, but I can't...and I know it pains you...and it pains me, too. I feel your hurt and I am sorry for it. I wish I could change it. LGBTQ individuals comprise our students, friends and family members. We must find a way to keep them with us. The loss we face from their defection- the splintering families, the weakened community, this creation of "us" vs. "them" to our detriment-  is too great.