Skip to main content

The Closet of the Religious Right

When Governor Mike Pence signed the discriminatory RFRA bill into law, I reacted like any other gay man--with sadness and anger at the rejection of lgbtq individuals based on someone’s notion of a religious ideal.  But my anger has given way to a sobering realization:  I am not as different from the Christian religious Right as I would like to think.  
When repeatedly challenged, Governor Pence dug in his heels and worked hard to avoid acknowledging how this bill enables citizens of his state to discriminate.  For months as this issue has reared its head in similar legislation in this country, I have seen this kind of reaction many times in interviews and conversations with those on the religious right.
Every time I see this behavior--otherwise intelligent and thoughtful people desperately avoiding acknowledging the truth--I recognize it fundamentally.  I have been there.  For forty-five years of my life, I lived in a closet that I had made for myself.  There was nothing in the world that I wanted more than to deny the truth of who I am.  I honestly believed that the truth was unthinkable, a betrayal not only of who I wanted to be in the world, but of all those I loved.  The more life showed me who I really am, the more I clung to a false personal narrative of who I desperately wanted to be.  
In the story of Passover, the Torah says that Pharaoh hardened his own heart for the first five plagues.  Surprisingly, for the final five, it was God who hardened Pharaoh’s heart.  It would seem that Pharaoh lost his free will, that he became a puppet of God’s will.  I read this differently.  When the text says that God hardened Pharaoh’s heart, it means that Pharaoh’s reason for hardening his heart shifted.  Instead of merely reacting against Moses, Pharaoh, on some very deeply-felt level, began to understand that Moses was in the right, and that he himself was wrong.  The more the undeniable truth confronted him, the more he denied it from a place of fear and desperation.  For Pharaoh, the Truth  was unthinkable: that there is a God, higher than any human being, who demands justice for oppressed, a world of ever-increasing compassion for those who suffer.  In this way, it was the Truth (God!) that hardened Pharaoh’s heart.
There are many kinds of closets in our human experience.  Some closets are about sexuality, others about religion, others are about power.  The Torah doesn’t use the term “closet.”  Instead, it is called a “hardened heart.”  The religious right is in a closet of religious sensibilities and denial that they are now desperately using as a weapon of discrimination.  Make no mistake, their behavior is identical to that of Pharaoh and his hardened heart.  Their hearts are hardened because of a desperate fear of losing their cherished version of a world that they want so badly to be true, a world and a truth narrowly defined by their pastors along Biblical precepts.
I have come to see that the Bible is not inherently synonymous with truth.  Rather, the Bible is a precious tool to help us to find the truth in our lived experience.  Another name of God is Truth, no matter how unthinkable and frightening that truth may be.  God, the Truth, can never be reduced to a text.  God, the Truth, is bigger than we are, bigger than any stories or ideas we can project about what we want life to be.  I have come to see that all closets and hardened hearts--no matter how well-intended--bring about far worse plagues than the truth that we feared to be so unthinkable.  The inevitable reality is that the truth is on the side of anyone who stands up for the oppressed.  The religious right knows this at the core of their being.  That’s why they are so frightened and their hearts are hardened.   Like Moses, may we stand and act courageously in the face of all those with hardened hearts.   And may we  watch the modern-day version of the miracle of Passover unfold in our time.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Teach your tongue to say ‘I don’t know.’ (Talmud Bavli, Berachot 4a)

This is one of my favorite teachings in the Talmud.   Our human nature never seems to change:   we hate to admit that we don’t know, that we’re not sure.   Some of us would rather lie to others and even to ourselves than admit that we don’t know something.   It’s as if there’s some deep-seated fear within us that being wrong is a terrible thing. I love not knowing!   When people come up to me and ask me a question about Judaism—or anything-- I’m happy to admit when I don’t know the answer.    I’m grateful.   That person has given me an opportunity to look something up and to learn.   I even love it when I say something incorrect or confused, and someone points out to me that I was wrong.   That’s the best of all!   I am delighted when life shows me that I was wrong.   How else can I find the Truth?   How else can I be ultimately right? There are those who believe that knowledge is power, and they’re right.   But the greatest knowledge, the greatest power of all is resting comforta...
“We have Nothing to Fear”:  My speech on the future of Conservative Judaism at the USCJ Convention in Atlanta

Change is Good -- What does that Mean?

If there’s any one subject that is on all of our minds these days and weeks, it’s “change.” Change is in the air. We’re eager for ‘change’ as our new president takes office. We’re eager for ‘change’ as we think about economic challenges. We’re eager for ‘change’ as we begin a new era at Adas Israel as well. People tell me that they feel a positive energy in the life of the synagogue, and that ‘sense of change’ is electrifying. This is all wonderful, but what exactly do we mean by ‘change’ anyway? It seems to me that the all-encompassing desire for change at our synagogue, and in the whole country is the feeling that we just want things to be different. It’s the feeling that the old ways have been spent, they’ve had their moment, they no longer work, and we need new ways of doing things in order to fix all the problems that the old ways have created. We all agree that “Change is Good,” but for many of us, there is an undercurrent of deep anxiety behind the desire for change. Our desire ...