A Vision of Tolerance : Laguna Jewish Congregation Gears Its Services to Gays and Lesbians

A handful of Jews recently celebrated Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, in a sunny living room overlooking the ocean.

Resplendent in his white robe, the officiating rabbi lovingly unwound a 90-year-old Torah scroll. There were the usual admonitions to be better people during the coming year. And, as in most Yom Kippur observances, the worshipers recited long lists of sins and asked the forgiveness of God and humanity.

Yet there were aspects of this service not often seen in ordinary synagogues. Included in the litany of wrongful deeds, for instance, were “the errors we have committed through internalized homophobia and remaining silent in the face of gay, lesbian and bisexual oppression.” And among the day’s readings were several relating to the experience of homosexuals during the Holocaust, including one victim’s long ode to the man he loved.

Such was this year’s holiday observance for the members of Kol Simcha, Orange County’s only Jewish congregation specifically aimed at gays and lesbians.

“It felt good,” said Seth Lazarus, 35, the Costa Mesa architect who acted as cantor during the service. “I had gone to (other) services before and felt like an outsider; this brought back the (Jewish) feelings of my youth.”

Said Rabbi Jane Litman, the group’s spiritual leader: “We wanted to create an accepting environment. What we offer is a vision of Judaism that is open and tolerant.”

Her particular brand of tolerance, Litman concedes, is a radical departure from traditional Judaism as expressed in the Torah, which defines homosexuality as an abomination punishable by death. As a result of that teaching, she said, gay Jews have traditionally felt uncomfortable in most congregations--hence, the founding of Kol Simcha.

“We see Judaism as evolving and changing and something to which we bring our own moral insights,” the rabbi said. “The Torah is a reflection of our past selves; it (shouldn’t) keep us from growing.”

Kol Simcha--which, in Hebrew, means “voice of joy”--began about five years ago as an informal group of Laguna Beach-based Jewish gays and lesbians who started holding Friday night potlucks to socialize and discuss issues pertaining to their religion and sexual orientation.

Gradually they began adding such events as holiday parties and picnics, Jewish trivia nights, guest visits from rabbis and occasional films. In 1990 the group presented its first High Holiday services.

And about a year ago, completing the transition from social group to religious congregation, Kol Simcha hired Litman--a 38-year-old Cal State Northridge instructor ordained by the religion’s Reconstructionist movement--to act as its part-time spiritual guide.

Today the congregation, which has about 40 members, holds monthly Friday night services at Laguna’s Tivoli Terrace Restaurant or in private homes and conducts observances of all major Jewish holidays. While the services are traditional in many respects, Litman said, they often incorporate readings, portions of liturgy or special discussions of particular relevance to gays.

“This is a congregation that is exciting and spiritual because people feel free to tell the truth about their lives,” the rabbi said. “Homophobia in the Jewish community has created an unspiritual environment in which (gays) are trying to be something that they’re not.”

Not all Jews agree with her approach.

Rabbi David Eliezrie, the Orthodox head of North Orange County Chabad, said that while he opposes discrimination against homosexuals, the religion cannot condone activities specifically prohibited by the Torah.

“Judaism hasn’t changed,” Eliezrie said. “The mainstream of Jewish thought for over three millennia has considered homosexuality an improper sexual behavior, and I don’t think it’s proper to turn the Torah upside down and inside out to validate a lifestyle that is antithetical to Jewish tradition.”

Rabbi Arthur Seltzer, leader of the conservative Temple Beth Emet in Anaheim, agreed. “The Torah position is quite clear,” he said. “It is one that is firmly against homosexual activity.”

In debating the issue, most Jews refer to Leviticus, a portion of the Torah that states, “If a man also lie with a man as he lieth with a woman, both of them shall have committed an abomination. They shall surely be put to death.”

Yet large segments of the American Jewish community in recent years, while conceding that the passage seems clear in its intent, have begun to loosen the religion’s historically tight strictures regarding homosexuality, arguing that the Torah reflects the values of its time and therefore need not be taken literally.

The Reform movement, representing about 25% of the country’s temple-affiliated Jews, now ordains openly gay rabbis. And among the nation’s estimated 1,400 Conservative rabbis, the issue is being discussed and debated by a special commission on human sexuality.

“I think it’s regrettable that we live in a world in which there have to be separate gay and lesbian synagogues,” said Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson of Congregation Eilat in Mission Viejo. An outspoken member of what he describes as the “growing minority” of Conservative rabbis pushing for change on the matter, Artson published a paper last year arguing that the biblical prohibition of homosexuality ought to be applied only to cases that are exploitative, oppressive or irresponsible and not to relationships based on what he calls a “loving commitment.”

“We don’t think that God has stopped talking to us,” Artson said, “so we have the power to reinterpret the Torah for each generation. The Torah isn’t the last word, it’s the first word. My goal is to awaken the Jewish community to the fact that traditional Judaism can be strengthened by including monogamous homosexuals who want to live their lives according to Jewish values.”

That seemed to describe many of those attending Kol Simcha’s Yom Kippur service. Most of them said that even with the recent moves toward liberalization, they feel most comfortable in a specifically gay-oriented congregation.

“I didn’t attend a synagogue for 10 years,” said Harvey Liss, 51, president of a computer software company in Irvine and a member of Kol Simcha since 1989. “This has helped me rediscover my Judaism; it’s something I grew up with.”

Across the room, Jeff Rehm sighed as he gazed down at the parched paper scroll bearing the ancient Hebrew letters, as rays of light streamed through the window.

“Kol Simcha has allowed me to be Jewish and gay and OK,” said Rehm, 49, a psychologist at UCI Medical Center. “It’s very hard for gay people to feel integrated, and only then can they be whole. This helps a lot.”