If Only Tyler Clementi Had Been to a Gay Synagogue


October 7, 2010 


by Rabbi Victor Appell
URJ Congregational Specialist for Marketing, Outreach & New Communities

Reading the news reports about the suicides of Tyler Clementi, as well as four other gay teenagers who recently committed suicide, brought back a flood of memories. I know something of what they went through. Not a day of my three years in junior high school went by without someone calling me a "faggot." Most days it was usually accompanied by a random punch or shove, or knock to the ground. Usually it was at the hands of one or two particular bullies, whose names I still remember 37 years later. This was long before anyone had thought of anti-bullying campaigns or curriculum about harassment. Like Tyler, Raymond, Seth, Asher and Billy, I know what it is like to wish I were dead.

What gave me some modicum of hope was a requirement of my ninth grade social studies teacher to read The New York Times. Each student in the class had a subscription, and each day I picked up my copy at my school in the Bronx. Back then, The New York Times was not the production it is today. There were no special sections for each day of the week. Rather, there were two sections, A and B.

While our teacher wanted us to read about current events, each week I turned to one very small advertisement that held within it the promise of my future. Each Friday, on page two or three of section B, churches and synagogues placed advertisements announcing the times of their services over the weekend. While the majority of the ads were for churches, a number of synagogues also took out ads -- mostly large ads from large temples.


But at the bottom of the page there was a small three-line ad that read, "Gay Synagogue: Friday Night Service," followed by the time and location. Every Friday, when we picked up our paper in class, the first thing I did, as discreetly as possible, was turn to the second section to make sure the ad was still there. And in doing so, I reassured myself that the Gay Synagogue was still there. For by the time I was 14, I knew that I was both Jewish and gay and was determined that I would not have to sacrifice one in order to be the other.

Even as I read the ad week after week, some part of me could not believe what I was reading. I studied the small ad looking for some hidden clue. Maybe they were just happy Jews I thought, not gay like me. At 14, I knew I was years away from going to the Gay Synagogue. From their small ad, I knew it could not be a large synagogue and so I prayed that the congregation survived until the Friday evening when I could go to services.

After ninth grade, I continued my subscription to The New York Times, if only to make sure that the Gay Synagogue was still in existence. Week after week, and eventually year after year, this little advertisement became my lifeline. And all the time, I waited until I could go to the Gay Synagogue.

That opportunity finally presented itself in my senior year of high school, three years after I had seen the ad for the Gay Synagogue for the first time. The synagogue, Congregation Beth Simchat Torah (CBST), was on the west side of Greenwich Village. I had never been to this part of the Village before and got terribly lost, wandering around the meandering streets, too afraid to ask anyone for directions.

The synagogue was located in the Westbeth Artists Housing Project. The building took up the entire block and finding the synagogue was no easy task. Finally making my way into the courtyard, I found a long ramp leading up to the space the congregation rented.

My heart was beating as I walked up the ramp. I had waited for three years for this moment and now it felt as if it were taking me three years to walk up that ramp. I walked in just as services were beginning. Someone greeted me at the door and handed me a name tag and a siddur. I quickly found a seat. There were perhaps 100 people in the room, mostly men, and all gay. Never before had I been in a room with gay people. The service was foreign and much more traditional than I was used to from my NFTY experience. The melodies were different and some of the rituals unfamiliar.

After services, there was an Oneg Shabbat. And then it happened. One of the greeters that evening, a man named Sy, came up and welcomed me with a kiss on the cheek. My first public act as a gay man was going to a gay synagogue and my first "gay" kiss happened at a synagogue! I am quite sure I blushed.

I have often thought about that first night at the gay synagogue, the years of waiting to go there, and of coming out in a religious context. At a time before positive gay role models, at a time when Anita Bryant was making headlines, simply knowing that such a thing as a gay synagogue was possible gave me the hope that I would not have to sacrifice one part of myself for another. As a teenager, there was a place I could go where those headlines were rejected, and where I could meet gay men and women who were indeed happy, and living full lives, unlike the sad images portrayed by the media.

Most gay people do not come out in a synagogue or church. However, coming out in a religious context can have a profound effect on a person. It is difficult to have a positive self-image when much of society would tell you that what you are is abnormal or that you are a sinner and would seek to deny your civil rights and make your expressions of love against the law. Coming out in a religious context challenges all that. We can learn, in synagogues and churches that welcome us, that what we are is good; that we can love and be loved; that we are created, like everyone else, in God's image; and that God loves us with an unqualified love. Religion has the ability to transform us. With people not only hating us but also trying to make us hate ourselves, we desperately need places where we can learn to love ourselves.

A lot has changed since 1975. Many churches and synagogues welcome gays and lesbians. And though I had to wait for HUC-JIR to change its policies, I did eventually become a rabbi. My partner of almost 12 years and I had our Jewish wedding in a synagogue, officiated by a rabbi and a cantor. We are now raising two wonderful children.

But if Tyler, Raymond, Seth, Asher and Billy felt they could not bear the pain any longer, perhaps not enough has changed. I wish I could have taken each of these boys to a church or synagogue where they would know they were loved and accepted. I wish I could tell each of the boys that it will get better. I wish I had worked harder to make it better.


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___________________________________________________________________________September 29, 2010

Equality California Issues Statement Regarding Teen's Suicide Due to Anti-Gay Bullying

Sacramento – Seth Walsh, a 13-year-old from Tehachapi, California, died yesterday after he hung himself nine days ago because of years of bullying he endured for being perceived as being gay, according to his peers. 

In response to this tragedy, Geoff Kors, Equality California Executive Director issued the following statement.

"We extend our deepest sympathies to the family and friends of Seth Walsh who are facing an unimaginable loss. This heartbreaking tragedy is not an isolated incidence but rather another terrible loss caused by those who promote hatred and intolerance. It is essential that we do everything in our power to end bullying and to provide youth the support they need to lead safe, healthy lives. Lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender youth, and those perceived to be LGBT, are more likely than their heterosexual peers to commit suicide, often because they are tormented at school and rejected by their communities.

"It's time that as a society we shun the bigotry spread by groups like NOM and other anti-gay extremist organizations, as well as politicians who fan the flames of hatred and create a climate of terror for many LGBT youth and youth perceived to be LGBT. NOM should immediately stop their bus tour of California and their harmful rhetoric that causes tremendous damage to so many young people and that breeds a hostile climate, which leads to bullying. 

"The Governor can also do his part to help prevent future tragedies by signing a bill this week that would enable countless at-risk youth to access mental healthcare services and to receive the support and care they need to thrive."

The Mental Health Services for At-Risk Youth Act (SB 543) would expand access to essential mental health services, especially prevention and early intervention programs, for youth ages 12-17 by allowing them to obtain counseling without parental consent. The bill is currently on the governor's desk. SB 543 was introduced by Senator Mark Leno (D-San Francisco) and is co-sponsored by Equality California, the National Association of Social Workers California Chapter, Mental Health America of Northern California, and the GSA network.

To find out more information about EQCA's legislation, visit http://www.eqca.org/legislation

Equality California (EQCA) is the largest statewide lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender rights advocacy organization in California. Over the past decade, Equality California has strategically moved California from a state with extremely limited legal protections for LGBT individuals to a state with some of the most comprehensive civil rights protections in the nation. Equality California has passed over 80 pieces of legislation and continues to advance equality through legislative advocacy, electoral work, public education and community empowerment. www.eqca.org