A Progressive Jewish Response to the Passage of Constitutional Amendment 36

by Rabbi Maurice Harris
November 5th, 2004

Rabbi Yitzhak and I have, of course, both been giving a lot of thought to Tuesday's election, and we have both been gathering our thoughts together to respond. We've shared a lot of soul-searching in the past few days on the election's implications for the issues and values we care deeply about as Jews and as rabbis. Tonight I am going to share some of my thoughts and feelings about the election. I am going to respond from a progressive Jewish perspective, as well as from my heart.

But first, I want to say something about the very choice Rabbi Yitz and I are making – choosing to have one of us talk about these issues tonight. We made that decision together – and in doing so, we found ourselves in the position of having to balance several realities that are seemingly at odds with each other.

First, there is the reality that many, many people in this community are hurting profoundly – in some cases, are feeling devastated – by the results of Tuesday's election, and that these people deserve comfort and spiritual guidance during a confusing and painful time. Second, there is the reality that a small number of people in our community are pleased with some or all of the results of the election, and these people deserve respect and the right to feel that their presence in this community is every bit as valid and valued as everyone else's. Although these members hold minority views within this congregation, we must remember that Judaism honors minority viewpoints, that our tradition is one that preserves minority viewpoints because it values them – just look at a page of Talmud and you will often find alongside the opinion of the majority of the rabbis, the opinions of dissenting rabbis.

In addition to these two realities, there is also the reality that it's Shabbat. Shabbat is traditionally a time for turning to our sacred texts and traditions, an occasion to leave the worries of the unredeemed world behind and to dwell in a sacred time. The idea that we should rest and be joyful on Shabbat is so strong that, traditionally, even many of the customs of sitting shiva – of mourning the dead - give way to Shabbat. Elections come and go, but Shabbat is an eternal sign that the world is, in its deepest potential, ultimately good.

And there's yet another reality that Rabbi Yitz and I had to consider. (I guess since there were two Jews talking this over there were inevitably going to be at least four realties.) The fourth reality we considered was this: in our Jewish community, we recognize that even though it's Shabbat, because this is the one time every week that a critical number of us gather together, sometimes it's appropriate for us to talk about the painful or controversial things that we need to face as a community.

The dilemma I have described is really just one more example of what I believe is the essence of rabbinic Judaism - weighing competing values and making one's best judgment about prioritizing those values. As Rabbi Yitz and I weighed these values leading up to tonight, we came to the conclusion that the top priority is to offer comfort and hopefully a little rabbinic insight to those in our community who are experiencing pain and grief. I ask those of you who may not be sharing in these painful feelings to be gracious and understanding towards those who are, and to know that your presence here is entirely valued and appreciated. All of us are in this community together, and when some of us are in pain, I presume that all of us are concerned.

Having said all of that, I'd like to focus now on Constitutional Amendment 36. I don't mean to exclude the many other hopes, concerns, and issues that were at stake in the election – I know that many people in the community are experiencing powerful feelings, feelings that can only be described as grief, over other dimensions of the election besides 36. But I want to focus on Measure 36 because I think the impact on this congregation of that one initiative is the most immediate, and for many in our congregation, the most raw and painful element of the entire election.

Most of you know that our Board and both our rabbis took a public, moral stand against this ballot measure. We felt that it was an attempt to impose the religious views of some religious communities on the entire state, and that it threatened to take away our religious freedom to practice our faith the way we believe is right. We also felt that the measure would hurt Oregonians in many real ways – by denying them access to important marriage benefits, but also by making an entire class of people second class citizens.

Rabbi Yitz and I are both devastated by the passage of this amendment, and we know many of you are feeling vulnerable, angry, misunderstood – and perhaps most painful of all, powerless. This is very hard.

We want to reassure everyone in this community who is gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgendered that Temple Beth Israel will remain a safe and affirming religious congregation, a place where the image of God in each of you is respected and appreciated, and a place where the kedushah – the holiness – that your loving, committed relationships bring to the world will be celebrated. Whether the state recognizes it or not, we will not stop performing same-sex weddings. And where there is violence or bigotry against members of the GLBT community, we will strive to honor the highest spirit of Judaism – and that is the spirit of being a witness for the unjustly persecuted. That is our sacred commitment as Jews. That is our belief. That is our moral value.

Speaking of moral values, on election night I don’t know if any of you saw Ronald Reagan, Jr. comment on gay marriage as part of a discussion on the top priorities of voters. One of the other network commentators was noting that 21% of voters in exit polls cited moral values as their number one concern, and then she started listing the issues that she believed were the "moral values" issues, and she included preventing gay marriage as one of them. At that point, Ron Reagan, Jr. interrupted her and said something like, "But moral values don't belong to people with only one point of view. What about the moral value of equality for all citizens? That’s a moral value that I believe in."

The progressive religious community needs to be able to name the moral values we treasure. There will be times when we need to advocate for those values through activism, and there will be times when we need to discuss those values as equals with our conservative religious brothers and sisters in the best spirit of open-minded dialogue, so that we can learn from each other. I believe that we can do both of those things.

Measure 36 is a setback, but it is not the end of the story. The ancient sage, Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel said, "The world stands on three things: Justice, Truth and Peace." The quest for equality and appreciation of gay citizens is a part of the quest for justice and truth. The psalm says, "Kindness and truth will meet; Justice and peace will kiss." Sometimes that kiss of peace is the kiss of Abraham and Sarah. Sometimes it's the kiss of David and Jonathan.

If you're hurting tonight because of Measure 36, I invite you to trust in God, in a God who created you in God’s image and loves you through and through. And if your wounds from misguided religious teachings of intolerance are so deep that you can’t trust in God, then I invite you to trust in the universe – the universe whose moral arc ultimately bends towards justice, to paraphrase Theodore Parker. And if you can't trust in the universe, then I ask you to trust your loving community. Because even if your faith has been shattered, there's one constant that can't be denied, and that's that there are always people who care. There are always people who care. And when you're alone or traveling outside your supportive community, I invite you to trust the goodness and truth in yourself.

Thank you for listening and for entrusting me with the privilege of sharing my thoughts and feelings. I would like to ask us all to take a few moments of silence, of quiet contemplation – close your eyes if you'd like – and visualize the ways in which you are not powerless. Visualize the power you do have to work for justice. Visualize yourself building on work that’s already been done to try to make the world more just, more humane, more equitable, more full of opportunity for all, more loving. And if you can, visualize people with conservative and progressive views learning how to use debate and dialogue as a process for seeking the truth together, instead of as a process for trying to defeat each other.

Remember, the earth is still firm beneath your feet. The truth is still the truth. The world is still is built on a foundation of creativity and loving kindness. You still have choices. You can still make a difference. Your being is still a gift, is still holy.

Shabbat shalom.