The Orthodox gay shul in Tel Aviv that has changed my life for ever

These days I might be described as an “October 8 Jew”, someone who has come back to Judaism more after the events of October 7. I resent that title slightly, having always been deeply connected to religion and Jewish people but I do admit that after being shunned by the gay community since October 7, I’ve found myself returning to the Judaism in a way that I had not planned. Through the grapevine of the new LGBT+ Jewish network that formed post October 7, I’d heard of a Birthright volunteering trip to Tel Aviv exclusively for British LGBT+ Jews. Led by a gay tour guide, the trip would include an LGBT+ history of the city and the people who made it the queer haven of the Middle East that it is today. I signed up immediately.

Being in Tel Aviv as a gay man alongside other LGBT+ people was a wildly different experience to being in Jerusalem ten years prior as a closeted and desperate twenty-something. I’d not spent much time in Tel Aviv before, having only visited on school trips and on FZY tours, so seeing this other version of Israel thagt felt like a home from home was eye-opening. Attending gay events without worrying that “Zios aren’t welcome” and being able to keep my magen david necklace on when going on dates made me start to question my life in the UK but it wasn’t until the Friday night that I seriously considered opening an aliyah application. Having spent that morning in Jerusalem where I acted as an impromptu tour guide around the old city, I was on a spiritual high. I put on tefillin and prayed at the Kotel, this time with no pretence or internal battle over my sexuality. I was free and clear-headed to pray and connect in the same way millions of Jews had done for decades. At dinner that evening, I was asked by our tour leader Gal to make kiddush for the group, which was a special and intimate moment. I felt honoured to be chosen as the “religious” representative, bringing the Jewish and LGBT+ elements of the trip together over challah and wine.

I knew that the shul we were going to for Kabbalat Shabbat was Orthodox but I wasn’t aware that it was run by LGBT+ people and that most of the congregation identified as LGBT+. As we sat down I noticed a gay couple with children and I turned to Gal and asked, “Is this a gay shul?” He nodded proudly and I felt my eyes fill up. I don’t know if it was being in an Orthodox shul full of gay people for the first time or because I knew that this moment would change the direction of my life. Either way, I prayed deeply that evening. I prayed following the same Orthodox service I went to as a child with my dad, the same service I go to now at my London Orthodox shul, but this time, and for the first time, with a new and exciting future in my head.

I’m sacrificing a lot by leaving my family, my nieces and nephew, my friends and the life I’ve created in London but the sad truth is I can’t see a future in which I find a Jewish partner and live safely and happily in the UK any longer. The rising antisemitism makes life unsafe for all Jews and gay dating in the liberal scene virtually impossible.

I don’t know what my future will look like when I make the move early next year but I do know that I owe it to myself to give Tel Aviv a try. There is no other place on Earth where I can attend an Orthodox gay-friendly shul on a Friday night and a Eurovision drag party on a Sunday night, feeling safe and welcomed at both. So it’s off to the holy land I go in search of something bigger than myself and the chance at a future that the UK can no longer offer.

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Josh Rose is a writer originally from Manchester. You can follow his work on Instagram @joshrosewrites