When I was younger, there were times when I failed to understand the purpose and the need for many of our Sages’ chumros, but as I get older, I realize they were taking the proper precautions to preserve our mesorah.
Clearly, a defining theme for many of the mitzvot in the Torah is the idea of becoming a goy kadosh, a holy nation. To accomplish this, we have to separate from impurities in the same way that gold can only be extracted by separating it from dirt and nonessential minerals. The key is separating the good from the bad, as if you melt impurities along with gold it will compromise the value of the gold.
The need for a similar clear delineation between right and wrong has never been more crucial to our existence as a people.
The following is a conversation I transcribed from an actual television show:
“Men cannot menstruate.”
“Yes they can!”
“No they can’t. If your chromosomes are XX and you are young then you will menstruate. If they are XY, you will not.”
“That’s not true at all. What about trans men? You’re excluding a whole group of people.”
“They’re not men. They are women dressed as men.”
“Then please define what a man is.”
“I just did.”
“Well, I don’t accept your definition.”
This insane conversation actually took place. The fact that people can argue with what defines a man or a woman seems preposterous, and yet that is precisely what the woke left is doing. Naturally, most frum Jews understand right from wrong, but the lines are graying, as these ideologies are slowly creeping into the Modern Orthodox community.
For instance, a few months ago, I had the pleasure of eating a Shabbat meal at the home of a frum family and noticed that the father and teenage son were both wearing multi-colored yarmulkes. Naively, I asked about it, only to be told that the kipot represented support for gay pride.
The moment I heard this I had two thoughts. First, how could any Torah-observant person support a forbidden act? It’s one thing to love and accept a gay person, which we all should, but it’s another to support a forbidden act. This distinction is critical.
Rav Steven Pruzansky, the noted pulpit rabbi in the U.S. for over 35 years, wrote “… the LGBT movement, especially in its Orthodox incarnation, is the modern rebellion against Torah (think Korach), as they literally excise a prohibition from the Torah, mock the very definition of marriage, and deny the reality that G-d created human beings ‘male and female.’”
Even worse, the Gemara in Chullin tells us the last straw leading to the mabul, the Great Flood, was when homosexuality was made into law. Once this happened, Hashem almost destroyed the world, only once again to forgive us. The symbol of that forgiveness is the rainbow. This is why even today we are warned not to stare at a rainbow too long. Why? Because even though it’s a sign of beauty, it also is a sad reminder of our sins. How then can anyone in good conscience wear the very rainbow to represent pride in the one sin that the rainbow represents what we should not do?
Even more confusing is the fact that the family espousing these ideas are legitimately good, honest, loving, Orthodox Jews, where the wife even covers her hair. How could they then proudly support a forbidden act? Even more perplexing is that most of these people would never defy a rabbinical command like not lighting the menorah yet have no problem proudly endorsing a forbidden act. What accounts for this incongruity?
There are a few reasons that might explain this contradiction.
First, some families are very liberal-minded and sensitive to social causes. I can appreciate that. Being caring and kind is a staple of Torah Judaism and anyone who is not sensitive to others – regardless of their sexual orientation – is wrong. I have gay friends and they are wonderful, caring individuals. But there is a line drawn between accepting a forbidden behavior and celebrating and endorsing it.
Another reason that Orthodox people are conflicted is rooted in our emotions.
Case in point:
After Shabbat, I asked the husband with the colorful kipah a rhetorical question: “If an all-yellow yarmulke came to represent supporting people who broke Shabbat, would you wear one in support of all those people? Or would you consider sporting a green kipah for men who were unhappily married and committed adultery?”
Naturally, he was uneasy with my line of logic, and after a long back-and-forth, he admitted that he changed his opinion of homosexuality once his best friend’s son came out. He said it hurt him to think of homosexuality as wrong because he loves his son’s friend very much. I completely get that.
I explained to him that I had a gay friend and we never had a single disagreement about his lifestyle. One day I asked him how he was able to get along with someone as opinionated and hard-headed as me. He smiled and said, “Avi, I grew up frum and know what the Torah says. I’m not trying to change that.”
I always respected my friend for not trying to reinterpret the law. Even though he lived an alternative lifestyle, his approach was the correct one.
Emotions play a heavy role when we make a decision, and emotions rarely dictate logic. Perhaps this is why the Torah draws a line in the sand and says, “This is allowed and this is not.” There is no bending but rather a stronger fortification of the boundaries between right and wrong, and between good and bad. A simple look at the laws of Shabbat, Pesach, kashrut, nidah, shaatnez, all carry the same theme: separation. Whether we separate between Shabbat and the weekdays, kosher and non-kosher, wool and linen, chametz and matzah, tamei and tahor, Hashem requires us to remain separate. It is the key ingredient to our becoming an am kadosh.
Now more than ever, we can see the need for a separation – for a distinctive line in the sand that says: This is black and this is white. This is right, this is wrong. Because emotions can persuade people to question the most basic things, like who is a boy and who is a girl, even in the face of unequivocal scientific proof. When G-d is removed from the equation, anything is up for grabs once subjected to man’s twisted interpretation.
Our job is to continue to foster unmitigated ahavas chinam, love beyond reason, and love our fellow Jew regardless of their sexual orientation. However, the distinction between loving and accepting another person and promoting a forbidden act must be made clear.
