fbpx

Wrapped up in Rainbows, but consumed by hate.

[additional-authors]
July 9, 2015

When I started writing this blog, I gave the relationship with my relative.  It was too hard. It was suggested I make it more generic and I have done that.  I also apologize for the length of this blog, but I felt the details were important.

Two weeks ago, the Supreme Court issued a ruling that was hailed as a landmark decision for “marriage equality.”  Since that day, I have been inundated with rainbows.  My Facebook friends are covered in rainbows.  Members of my family who long ago stopped talking to me are now sending me rainbows. 

I remain rainbowless. I long ago lost my appreciation of warm fuzzies and meaningless symbolism.

I had a relative who was 17 years older than me.  He died when I was 20. His mother was Jewish and mine was not.  He knew home was turbulent. He kept me protected.  He was gentle, kind, loving and funny.  As far as I was concerned, the sun rose and set in his eyes. 

When I was ten he moved to New York.  He said it was for a job, but I knew he was running out on me.  He promised me he would send me a plane ticket to visit him every summer and winter vacation.  He would visit at Thanksgiving.  I knew he was lying. I was wrong.

Visits to New York meant ice cream, camping, museums and concerts.  Eventually they included walks with his partner and their dog.  I still had to help cook and clean, but I enjoyed being spoiled by two doting gentlemen. 

After each visit, I faced a barrage of questions from my family.

“Does he have friends?”  “Yes, he has lots of friends.”
“Does he have a girlfriend?” (see above).
“Does he have a roommate?” He lives in New York.  He has a roommate.”
“Do they have the same bedroom?”  “Of course not.” (I lied.)

I was savvy enough to know if I answered the questions the wrong way, my visits would end.

When I was 16, he asked if I could come to New York for Thanksgiving.  He couldn’t get away.  When I saw his partner, his smile and humor were replaced with worry and pain.  I came back at winter break and then summer. When his partner died, his family barred us from attending the funeral.  We were told about G-d's wrath and punishment for their “lifestyle.”   A memorial was arranged, and people came back to the apartment.  We talked and cried.  One of his friends said that Gays were the new Jews.  My relative disagreed.  Eventually, Gays would have rights, but anti-Semitism would be eternal.  He was right.

Then it was his turn.  By this time I was in the process of converting.  He encouraged me and helped me with my Hebrew.  He told me to go to Israel.  He went there after he graduated from college and worked on a kibbutz.  He told me he would give up ham and shrimp in my honor.  I told him I would give up men in his.  We couldn’t stop laughing.  When I told him the name I chose he was disappointed.  “I think you should have chosen Emuna (faith), because you have faith in people.”   He was the faithful one. I am not.

He was fortunate.  Many of his friends died alone in hospitals or hospices having been rejected by their family and friends. He was neither alone nor lonely.   A dedicated group of hospice angels came to help.  I needed to do laundry, keep his apartment clean and cook him something he could keep down.  I ignored phone calls from relatives I knew just wanted information.  He wanted to die at home, and he did. 

I thought I was prepared for his death.  I was not.  He wanted a Jewish burial.    I was given a list of funeral homes that might cooperate.  I called the Jewish ones. The first told me they didn’t “do AIDS patients.”  The second bowed out when I told them his age.  A single man dying at 37 set off an alarm.  The third was better, but I fell apart when the people who came to take him were donned in something like HAZMAT suits.  I was told there would be no taharah.  No one would volunteer for that mitzvah.  His Bar Mitzvah tallis would be placed in its bag in the casket.  At this point, I decided that being a part of a Chevra Kadisha would become my mitzvah.

We would not be allowed to use their chapel for a service.  I understood they didn’t want “us.”  They were afraid friends would show up in drag.  I paid the bill up front because I was afraid they would back out.  The cemetery was cooperative, but he would be buried in the “new” section.   I felt as if they didn’t want their ground contaminated.  He was a gentle, kind, and loving man.  In their mind he was no less toxic than the reactor at Chernobyl.

I have been told of pastors and priests who refused to officiate at the funeral of someone who died from AIDS.  I was hoping that Jews would be different.  When I did find a Rabbi who would officiate, he tried to be compassionate.  He told us that he felt the most important pillar of Judaism was emuna (faith).  Sometimes “emuna” was the only thing that kept the Jewish people alive. The Rabbi never met my relative, but he didn’t need to. Emuna was his mantra.

Afterwards, we returned to the apartment.  It was a mob scene.  We hugged and I cried.  Friends brought food.   Someone played an Elton John song with his name.  I always cry when I hear it.  When I heard it on the radio this week, I had to pull over.

My family did what I expected.  They told people he died of a heart defect.  I received cards with the words,  “We hate the sin, but love the sinner” a sentiment that in my mind, is stuck on stupid.  I learned to avoid using words like Kaposi’s sarcoma and pneumonia.  I couldn’t stand the smirks and rolling of eyes by people who bragged of their tolerance.  Over the years, most of his friends died.  Some of their families handled the situation better than mine.  Some did not. 

I have reached a point in my life where I can write about this and I really don’t care what anyone thinks.   I became active in a Chevra Kadisha because I never want to deny anyone the dignity of a Jewish burial.  When my daughter was born, I named her Aliyah Temima in his honor.  It means,  “perfect or complete sacrifice.”  It was a name given to Isaac, Abraham’s son.  Unlike his father and sons, Isaac was never allowed to leave the land of Israel.  Isaac was the epidome of trust, love and faith.   This year, I legally changed my middle name to Emuna in his honor.  It is also the license plate on my car. 

When I picked up my daughter after a trip to Israel a couple of weeks ago she told me all about Israel’s gay pride week.  She is not gay, but when she and a friend went to a bar in Jerusalem, she was given a shot of Scotch (good stuff too!) in honor of the occasion.  Before I picked her up, I visited him.  Earlier this year I added  “Beloved partner” to his headstone. It was time.  Whoever said time heals all wounds lives in a world of fantasy.  It still hurts.

The rainbow everyone is wrapping themselves up in this week is very different from the one G-d gave the world.  At one time, G-d destroyed his world, his creation because we failed in our mission.  G-d did not fail in his.  In Judaism, the rainbow is a sign to us from G-d that he would never again destroy the world through water.   It is a sign that he has compassion on us even though we have little compassion for each other.

G-d doesn’t have to destroy the world.  We do that.  We talk about how far we have come.  We wrap ourselves in “rainbows” then self-righteously turn on each other.  We blame G-d for our failings.

How far have we come when we feel license to spit on a gentle, caring Priest during a gay pride parade?  How far have we come when we want to make a point by suing a mediocre bakery because they refuse to bake a cake?  How far have we come when we remain silent as ISIS throws gay men off of buildings?  We negotiate with Iran, but they and the rest of the Arab world would execute my relative and anyone else who offends them by beheading and hanging?  How far have we come when we are silent as Christians and Yazidis are enslaved or slaughtered?

How far have we come when we hold the only country in the Middle East that hosts a gay pride parade to a standard we hold no other country?  How far have we come when we boycott, divest and sanction Israel for failing in a “peace process” in which Israel’s “partners” preach (and will practice) the destruction of Israel and the Jews?  How far have we come when it is acceptable to deny Jews a country in which they are the indigenous people? We are not a tolerant world. We are insane.

We have not come a long way.  We have perverted tolerance in the name of conscience.  Anti-Semitism is increasing in Europe and the U.S.  It is tolerated and justified on American college campuses.  The same morons who tried to deny a student a place on the UCLA student council because she was Jewish are wrapping them selves in rainbows, bragging about their tolerance and feeling pretty darn good about themselves.  In the political arena, candidates who just a couple of years ago were against marriage equality are now wrapping themselves up in rainbows.  It is about getting votes and feeling good.   It is a schande.


My relative understood Jews will always be the target of unbridled and unjustified hate.  That is why he insisted on being buried as one.  I asked him how he wanted to be remembered, as I was responsible for his eulogy.  He said he wanted to be remembered as understanding and compassionate. 

“Understanding,” he said, “Is the ability to accept we are all different.”  “Compassion is the ability to actually accept our differences.  We are created in G-d’s image, but we act as if he is created in ours. ”   He was proud of his name.  In Hebrew it means, “G-d is my judge.”  We are not to judge G-d, and we are certainly not to judge each other.  He practiced what he preached.  As a gay man, his life might be easier today.  His life as a Jew would not.

Nine people in robes can make and interpret the law.  No court of people can force understanding, compassion or acceptance.  When we wrap ourselves in rainbows but openly practice the world’s oldest hate, one brother hating another because he is a Jew, we have not come very far at all.  The court of compassion, love and understanding is not in Washington.  It is deep within our soul.   No court can dictate or overrule the human heart.

Did you enjoy this article?
You'll love our roundtable.

Editor's Picks

Latest Articles

Print Issue: Got College? | Mar 29, 2024

With the alarming rise in antisemitism across many college campuses, choosing where to apply has become more complicated for Jewish high school seniors. Some are even looking at Israel.

More news and opinions than at a
Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.

More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.

More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.