top of page
Search

“An Orthodox Gay Shul” Is a Contradiction — And Israel Must Not Normalise It

Updated: 1 day ago

by Ram ben Ze'ev



“An Orthodox Gay Shul” Is a Contradiction — And Israel Must Not Normalise It
“An Orthodox Gay Shul” Is a Contradiction — And Israel Must Not Normalise It

There is a modern habit of attaching holy words to unholy ideas in order to neutralise criticism. The Nations have done this to us for centuries: they rename, reframe, soften, and then demand we accept their distortion as “progress.” And now, in our own day, Jews have begun doing it to themselves — taking words that belong to Torah, using them as branding, and then expecting the ציבור (tzibbur, community) to pretend that nothing has changed.


One of the most dangerous examples of this is the phrase: “an Orthodox gay shul.”


Let us be clear about the matter. A Jew who experiences same-sex attraction has not, by that inner struggle alone, committed a transgression. Temptation is not a sin. Desire is not guilt.



Many Jews carry burdens they did not choose. Torah does not treat them as outcasts, and neither should we. No decent person — and certainly no Torah Jew — should mock, humiliate, or dismiss another Jew because of an inner struggle.


But Torah also does not permit us to turn struggle into identity, identity into ideology, and ideology into holiness.


Because while the desire is not the sin, the act is. The Torah is explicit regarding male homosexual congress, forbidding it in ויקרא (Vayikra, Leviticus) 18 and 20. These prohibitions are not “cultural” and not “Rabbinic.” They are Torah. And Torah does not ask our opinion before commanding us. It commands, and we obey.


That is precisely why attaching the word “Orthodox” to a shul designed around a community centred on gay identity is not merely inaccurate — it is spiritually subversive. It is not compassion. It is not inclusion. It is a re-engineering of Jewish moral language.


Because the word “Orthodox” does not mean: a place where people feel comfortable. It does not mean: a place where everyone belongs. It does not mean: a place where all lifestyles are affirmed. Orthodox means one thing: submission to Torah authority. It means Torah defines קדושה (kedushah, holiness). Torah defines boundaries. Torah defines permitted and forbidden. Torah defines what we celebrate, and what we restrain ourselves from. It means that even if the whole world changes, Torah does not.


So what happens when a shul brands itself as “Orthodox” while centring itself on an identity that in modern terms implies moral pride, public affirmation, and communal legitimisation of conduct Torah forbids?


One of two things always happens.


The first is reinterpretation: clever language is used to blunt Torah. Words are made “nuanced.” Prohibitions become “ancient.” Standards become “complex.” And then, eventually, what Torah forbids is declared “open for reconsideration.” Not in so many words — at first. But slowly, relentlessly, the גבול (gevul, boundary) is moved. The Torah becomes a conversation partner instead of a King. And a community is trained to believe that it can remain Orthodox while rewriting the meaning of holiness.


The second is compartmentalisation: the shul keeps Orthodox aesthetics — mechitzah, nusach, siddurim — while the deeper Torah moral structure is treated as separate from real life. Judaism becomes a synagogue outfit worn one day a week, while the rest of life becomes modern Israel, modern desire, modern self-definition. Torah is honoured in speech but dethroned in practice. This is not Orthodoxy. It is theatre.



And this is why the danger is greater in Israel.


Because Israel is not merely another country with Jews in it. Israel is the Land of Torah. Israel is the מקום קדוש (makom kadosh, holy place) that holds the covenantal identity of the Jewish People. It is the מקום (makom, place) where words like “shul” and “Orthodox” are not supposed to be borrowed for social experimentation. They are supposed to be rooted, stable, and uncompromised.


When Israel normalises the phrase “Orthodox gay shul,” it does not merely create a shul for a niche population. It signals something far larger: that Torah identity is now flexible, that holiness can be repackaged, that Israel can be modern first and Jewish second. It teaches the next generation that Torah’s commands are still quoted — but they are no longer binding.

That is the real threat.


Not that Jews with struggles come to shul. That is not the threat.


The threat is that we take what Torah calls struggle — and rename it as legitimacy. The threat is that we take what Torah calls restraint — and rename it as repression. The threat is that we take what Torah calls forbidden — and rename it as “holy, if expressed with authenticity.”


This is precisely how Torah collapses in a society: not through persecution, but through renaming.


So what should a Torah-true shul do?


A Torah shul should open its doors to every Jew who comes to pray. A Torah shul should never humiliate. A Torah shul should teach kindness. A Torah shul should remind every Jew that they are wanted by G-D.A Torah shul should be a place where broken Jews can be rebuilt.


But a Torah shul must also preserve the גבולות of Torah with love and firmness.


If a shul wishes to support Jews who carry this particular inner struggle — helping them stay connected to tefillah, Shabbat, learning, and community — then it must do so without turning the struggle into a banner. It must not build identity around it. It must not sanctify it. And it must never imply that Torah’s prohibitions are negotiable.


Because the moment we attach “Orthodox” to a structure designed to validate what Torah forbids, we do not uplift the struggler — we undermine Torah itself.



And when Torah is undermined in Israel, the damage is not local.


It becomes national.


It becomes generational.


It becomes a slow and polite לשון הרע (lashon hara, destructive speech) against the covenant itself — a quiet insistence that G-D’s Word must evolve because modern man has evolved.


But Torah is not a brand.


And Israel is not a laboratory.


And Orthodoxy is not a feeling.


Orthodoxy is obedience.


And once we forget that, the shul may remain standing — but holiness will have left the room.



>>>> BUY ME A COFFEE <<<<


###


bottom of page