We were staying in a hotel over half term, and we were playing hide and seek. The large, impressive old fashioned furniture gave us the perfect setting. It was when I was hiding, wrapped up in our coats inside a large closet, that I really had the chance to think about those lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people who spend their lives in hiding. This was a game, of course. I was giggling. I knew that there was someone coming looking for me. How many of us wait for year after year, and nobody comes?
Life for LGBT Jews is getting better. Quite a few of us know the closet as a thing of the past. Yet only last month I met a group of LGBT Jewish teenagers, of a variety of Jewish backgrounds, who didn't feel they would be welcome in their own synagogues. These are the shuls they should be growing up in. Even today, with the opportunity to enter a legal marriage, and legal protection from hate crimes, these young people somehow feel that they are not welcome and that they have to go somewhere else.
February is LGBT History Month, and the theme this year is "Religion, Belief and Philosophy". This week Stonewall, the national campaigning organisation, will host a first ever multi-faith conference, bringing together leading theologians, faith leaders and activists. As the Jewish panellist for this event, I will discuss and answer questions about our relationship with Torah, and about what the Torah says. Put simply, how can we move from rejection to tolerance, from tolerance to welcome, and from welcome to celebration?
In the forthcoming edition of the Journal European Judaism, I will argue that we can even speak of a distinctly Jewish theology of Lesbian and Gay Leadership. I will say that it is precisely because it is difficult to bring together these two aspects of ourselves into one real whole self, that LGBT Jews have personal access to the core model of integrity that we find within the Torah itself. This is why I believe that lesbian and gay Jews may even have a particular gift for communal and rabbinic leadership.
As a Progressive rabbi, I have the immense privilege of educating the next generation. It is an incredible privilege to learn, to teach, to lead, and to share my life with my partner of 25 years, Rebekka, and our two young daughters. We have enough supportive people around to hold us through the inevitable rough patches that all couples face. We do our utmost to give back to our communities. Things are not always rosy. But we are not alone.
Yet so many people are alone. The boys and girls I spoke to last month, who do not feel they can rely on their parents or their rabbis or their youth leaders. There is so much that the community can do to help, without compromising on core values. Since young people are more vulnerable to mental distress, self-harm and even God forbid, suicide, we can make sure they are safe. Keshet UK exists so that no one need make a choice between living their Jewish and their LGBT identities. They are developing a specifically Jewish approach to inclusion and work cross-communally, helping community leaders to keep young people safe from harm. Next month, they will launch anti-bullying training for schools, delivered in partnership with Stonewall. Is your school tackling anti –LGBT bullying? Every youth movement, even B'nei Akiva, the movement I grew up in, can access Keshet's regular training programme. They are available for advice to all of our organisations, and their website is easy to access for support and information: Keshet.org.uk.
On a personal level, everyone can be a listener. It is not a big step to offer friendship and support. It is not difficult to end referrals for the unethical and ineffective, so-called Reparative or Conversion therapies, which claim to be able to change a person's sexual orientation.
These methods are risky, and recommending them is risky for referrers, too, because of the potential for harm. Jewish PFLAG, for Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, has groups in Manchester and London. Synagogues and communities might begin to ask themselves where their missing people are. Men and women, uncles, aunts, grandparents, cousins, some of whom are actively excluded, but many more who simply gave up their seats and went away.
Many will join the increasing ranks of LGBT Jews in the arts, culture, politics, medicine and academia, where they will find safer, close-knit alternatives.
Perhaps some of them might one day come back to their Jewish communities, homes that are ready to treasure the unique worth of each and every precious human being. And, one day, I hope that closets will be a place for clothes and games, for laughter and anticipation. But never for living in.
Shulamit Ambalu is the rabbi of Kehillah North London in Stoke Newington, director of youth, educational and development at Finchley Reform Synagogue, and lecturer in Mishnah, Talmud and vocational skills at Leo Baeck College, London
