The Knight Initiative

Rabbi's Notes - March 2000

by Rabbi Margaret Holub

When Mickey and I decided to get married and started telling our friends and families our happy news, I was gently challenged by some of my friends. Not because they didn't love Mickey or think he is the perfect partner for me, but because, by marrying, Mickey and I would become the beneficiaries of a long list of legal rights which are not available to same-sex partners. Some say that there are 1000 legal rights that come with marriage. I only know of a few of them: visitation rights in hospitals, status as "next of kin" for medical decision making and inheritance purposes, the right to file joint tax returns, eligibility to receive a deceased spouse's pension and Social Security payments... Knowing even these, in the midst of my great joy I felt guilty. It didn't seem right to invite my lesbian and gay friends to watch and celebrate as Mickey and I were granted a bunch of legal privileges that they can never have. We decided to do something about it. We had the world's biggest and happiest wedding with all the rites and traditions of Judaism, the blessing of both our families, our community, our extended circles of friends and, I believe, of God. And we didn't get a license from the State.

So two or three times a year I run into a situation like the following: I recently had some medical tests done at the hospital in Ukiah (I'm fine, thanks...) As I was signing in, the clerk asked me, "Are you married?"

"Well, um, uh, well, kind of, well, no. I guess I'm not." The poor woman looked at me like I was crazy, and as she did, a wave of indignation rose up in me. "Yes! I am married. Check that box!"

In that moment I realized, as I do when these situations arise, how painful it is to have to deny the blessed, sanctified status of my relationship with Mickey -- and to put myself in the position where Mickey could potentially be barred from visiting me in the hospital. And if in that case, where I chose the situation, al achat kamma v-kamma, "how much the more so," as the Talmud says of blatant cases compared to subtle cases, would it be painful if, when asked my spouse's name, I gave the name of another woman. And the clerk would say, "I'm sorry. That cannot be."

I'm thinking about this a lot these days, in the wake of the Knight Initiative, Prop. 22 , which seeks to seal out the possibility of same sex marriages being recognized in California. It seems absolutely right and just to me that lesbians and gay men who choose to marry be granted the same legal privileges as heterosexual couples. I feel doubly strongly about this as a clergyperson who has joyfully officiated at several same-gender weddings. In preparation for these weddings I meet with these couples several times, as I do with heterosexual couples, hear them speak of their love for each other, help them draft a ketubah which spells out the details of the commitment they are making. I stand under the huppah with them, recite the blessings of our tradition, hand them the glass to break, dance at their seudat simchah, their reception party. And know, all this time, that my intention as an officiant, and much more importantly their intentions as people entering into a committed partnership, are rebuffed by the State. Their marriage is not "recognized" (ah, what an apt word!) So that, no matter how much they intend to make a life together, they still can't buy a joint insurance policy or check that "married" box at the hospital. It's not right!

I've been talking to a lot of people lately about the Knight Initiative, which will be called the "Limit on Marriage" Proposition on our ballot this month. It is clear to me that the only reason that people I've talked to support this initiative is because they just can't -- or won't -- get used to the idea that two men or two women can really be married. They can't take seriously that such a relationship is really a marriage. It doesn't fit their picture. Even if such a person doesn't (think that they) have any malice towards gay men or lesbians, such a lack of imagination is a kind of subtle homophobia, because it refuses to take seriously the aspirations of gay and lesbian people.

We are lucky to live in a community that has among its residents a number of "out" gay men and lots of lesbians. They are our neighbors, employers and employees, colleagues in social projects, and of course our brothers and sisters in the Jewish community. So the idea that two men or two women would love each other and might choose, as a man and a woman might choose, to establish a permanent and recognized partnership, is not strange or frightening to us as it might be to people who live in more segregated settings. It is familiar, obvious and "natural." We may also know same gender couples who do not choose to marry, as we also know man-and-woman couples who do not choose to marry. There are lots of reasons that a couple might make the choice to marry or not to. The point is that the choice should be theirs -- not foreclosed by other people's lack of imagination.

Often people who can't fathom gay marriage will talk about the bible. I can't speak to the Christian texts, but I can remind you, as Jenais Zarlin did so sensitively and brilliantly at her Bat Mitzvah, that there are two passages in the Hebrew bible that say that "a man who lies with another man as he lies with a woman" is an abomination. I can also tell you, as a point of comparison, that there are many, many more passages whch say that touching a menstruating woman is an abomination. There are scholars today who hold that the "man lying with a man as with a woman" refers to situations of power imbalance completely different than homosexual relationships. More significantly, from a Jewish point of view, the concern about homosexual relationships, if it is even there in the bible, is basically not carried forward into the Talmud and later layers of Jewish law. The laws of niddah, of the menstruating woman, by contrast, warranted a whole tractate of Talmud and have been carried forward in halakhah (Jewish law) to the present day. Homosexuality is simply not a significant area of concern for Jewish tradition.

But justice is. These "limit on marriage" laws, which have been passed in a number of states, are already being used by anti-gay ideologues as a legal basis to attack some of the few other hard won legal rights of gay men and lesbians. They are an injustice in themselves, and they are used as a plank to support further injustice.

The crown of the Jewish wedding is the "Seven Blessings," an ancient incantation that unites the couple under the huppah at the highest mystical levels. The final blessing says, "Soon may there be heard in the cities of Judah and in the streets of Jersualem the voice of joy and gladness, the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride, the jubilant voice of bridegrooms from their nuptial canopies and of young men from their feasts of song." So look! There is a parallelism here in the poem, between "the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride" in one line and "the voice of bridegrooms from their nuptial canopies and of young men from their feasts of song." So obviously there is room in the tradition for bridegrooms and brides -- and for bridegrooms and young men! Just playing -- but why not? The issue is imagination, being able to imagine that someone else's love and commitment might feel as strong as one's own, might in fact be a marriage. Hannah Arendt said in a different context that the greatest evil springs from lack of imagination, from a lack of ability to imagine someone else's situation as having as much passion and energy -- and merit of justice -- as one's own. Here's a chance this month for us all to exercise our imaginations in the direction of love and honor. Happy voting -- if there is such a thing...

Copyright 2000 Rabbi Margaret Holub

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