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Larry Friedlander
is a Holocaust survivor who ran to the Shanghai
China Ghetto during the war. George Moscowitz
has known he was gay since puberty and started
his own Jewish congregation in Fire Island
Pines, a gay enclave off of Long Island, N.Y.
Justine Youngleson grew up in an Orthodox family
in South Africa and came to South Florida in
1997. Joyce Edelson was not heavily involved in
the temple until she discovered a gay synagogue,
Congregation Etz Chaim. Rabbi Harold Caminker
traveled all over the world to find his
spiritual home.
While
these five Jews come from very different
backgrounds, they have two things in common:
they are gay; and they all feel that being gay
and being Jewish are separate aspects that
generally never overlap – except in the choice
of their congregation.
“They
don’t intertwine,” says Friedlander, a native
German with three children and a former wife,
who didn’t come out until he was 49. “There’s
gay and Jewish, gay and Christian, gay and no
religion. You can still be religious and be a
gay person, it just depends what congregation
you belong to.”
“Yeah,
it’s like asking how being white and left-handed
affect each other. They don’t,” says Caminker,
who despite being a Reform rabbi, considers
himself fairly traditional. “It has no impact on
sexual orientation, just the response of the
religious community after coming out. The Reform
is different than Orthodox or Conservative.”
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Staff photos by Andrea Freygang
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FINDING HER ROOTS:
Joyce Edelson, who is seen here with
Holocaust survivor Larry Friedlander,
returned to her Jewish roots after
discovering Etz Chaim. Friedlander has
been with Etz Chaim almost since its
inception, and says that although his
being Jewish and being gay are separate
parts of his identity, the temple helped
his coming out process.
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Youngleson
understands that perfectly, because she left an Orthodox
synagogue in Boca Raton to join Etz Chaim to be free to be
herself.
“There
is too much conflict with that movement, and the philosophy
towards gay,” she says. “Before moving here, I had never
heard of a gay synagogue, but … Judaism is an important part
of my life, always has been since I grew up in a very
traditional home.
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“It
makes a big difference to go to a synagogue and
sit with your partner, and if there’s any
honors, you can get up together and the
relationship is recognized … these are important
issues that help keep family and relatives
together, especially on high holidays.”
Joyce
Edelson is also happy to have a spiritual home.
“They
are individual aspects of my life, but I’m happy
to have a synagogue that is there for all the
GLBT community … I’d love to see more of the
Jewish gay community get involved,” she says.
“I’ve been fortunate not to have had problems in
my teaching career or any aspect of Judaism, but
I wasn’t religious back then. I broke away and
observed holidays; that was it.”
“It’s
like coming home without exploring the issue of
sexual orientation,” says Caminker. “I can
address things in sermons without anyone
questioning it or having a controversy brought
up like in a mainstream congregation, [where]
someone was always uncomfortable. … I can talk
about Gene Robinson and how much I love him or
that Ruth and Naomi may have been lesbians and
no one tells me I’m pushing my agenda because we
all have the same agenda.”
Which
is why Moscowitz started his own congregation,
because it was one way to “be Jewish and gay”
with no problems.
“It
only functioned in the summer since it was in
the late ’60s. I’ve been gay from puberty, and
my partner of 40 years was Jewish too, with a
strong commitment to Judaism, so we’ve been
active,” says Moscowitz who carried his religion
with him from New York to St. Thomas to South
Florida. “Your background is how important
synagogue going is, religion is, but Etz Chaim
brings Jews in with very little background
because it’s Reform and accepts gays.”
For
Friedlander, Etz Chaim helped in the coming out
process because it not only helped him
spiritually but also socially.
“I’ve
made a great many friends here,” says
Friedlander, a member of the temple since a year
after its conception. “I’ve seen this
congregation go through some very bad times, but
I’ve fought to keep it in existence.”
Congregation
Etz Chaim is holding its High Holy Days Services
at Religious Science, 1550 N.E. 26 St., Wilton
Manors. The Yom Kippur Kol Nidre Service is at 8
p.m., Oct. 12 and the Yom Kippur Morning Service
is at 10 a.m., Oct. 13; followed by a Healing
Service at 4:30 p.m. and a Neilah Service at
5:30 p.m. Rabbi Harold F. Caminker and Cantorial
Soloist Michael R. Greenspan will officiate.
High Holy Days tickets are free to CEC members.
As
in previous years, CEC is holding a High Holy
Days Food Drive to benefit the Poverello Food
Center, which serves the nutritional needs of
people living with HIV/AIDS. People who wish to
contribute to the food drive should bring
non-perishable food items to the Kol Nidre or
Yom Kippur day services.
For
more information, call (954) 564-9232 or visit
etzchaimfl.org.
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LONG WAY FROM HOME:
Justine Youngleson has traveled a long
way from her Orthodox Jewish roots in
South Africa to call Fort Lauderdale
home. She says she is much happier in a
Reform, gay congregation than an
Orthodox one, even though she considers
the two aspects of her identity to be
separate.
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GAY AND JEWISH:
Rabbi Harold Caminker is Congregation
Etz Chaim’s newest spiritual leader.
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Meet
Congregation Etz Chaim’s new leader
Rabbi Caminker has found his perfect fit at
gay synagogueBy
ANDREA FREYGANG
Staff Writer
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Congregation
Etz Chaim in Wilton Manors found its spiritual leader after looking at
12 rabbis over a two-year period. The search started in June 2003 as Dr.
Murray Lichenstein and Cantor Michael Greenspan, working closely with
the strong lay leadership, led every service at the gay synagogue.
The search was put on hold in May 2004
while the temple renovated its new space, and resumed last August when
Lyn Saberg took over as chair of the rabbi search committee. In
November, the 11-member committee received Rabbi Harold Caminker’s
resume.
After a series of phone interviews,
Saberg recommended bringing Caminker in front of the temple board and
search committee in February.
“We have a very eclectic congregation
– Orthodox, Reform, Conservative, Reconstruc-tionists – it’s very
diverse and we needed someone that answered all their needs,” says
Saberg, adding that all the rabbis were qualified, but that she felt the
board should act quickly because someone of Caminker’s caliber
doesn’t come along very often.
“He immediately struck me as a very
determined man who loved the Jewish religion, the Jewish people and was
very involved in the community,” she continues. “He was an out gay
rabbi, a devoted father and it became evident that he was a very
intelligent, articulate man seeking a gay congregation so that his life
and religion could be one.”
Caminker, who grew up in Detroit within
a Reform Jewish temple, agreed with Saberg’s statement when TWN
caught up with him between appointments with his congregants and
spending time with his youngest daughter. He says that from early on he
knew he was different from the other boys, and that he realized his
attraction to the same gender around the age of 9. While this discovery
was exciting for him, it was also frightening because there was no one
he could talk with.
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“I
remember hearing Leviticus 18 (18:22 – Thou shalt not lie
with mankind, as with womankind; it is abomination.) long
before I was openly gay, and it’s still one of the things in
the Torah that confuses and angers me because I wonder how we
can follow such teachings that are prejudicial and hateful,”
Caminker says. As a Reform Jew, he says he doesn’t believe
God wrote the Torah, but that it was created by humans, albeit
well-intentioned ones.
“What might have been right
3,500 years ago is not right today and every Jew has a
personal struggle with Leviticus 18,” he adds, before
segueing into the story of his rabbinical studies.
Caminker first heard his
calling to become a rabbi as an undergrad at Michigan State
University; he did a study program in London and hitchhiked to
Austria, Switzerland and Germany.
“I visited Dachau, the first
concentration camp during the Nazi establishment, and … the
non-Jews were treating it as a historical tour site – eating
hot dogs, buying souvenirs – and as a Jew I was grieving,”
he says.
Soon after, he went to the
Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati where he met the first
woman rabbi and was very impressed with the students. His fate
was sealed. Caminker’s first year of studies was in
Jerusalem, beginning work toward his new life goal to learn
all the tools he needed for the profession.
In 1978, he was ordained, but
he remained in the closet because the president of the college
said he would never ordain a gay rabbi. Caminker also met the
woman he eventually married and had three “beautiful
daughters who are an important part” of his life.
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Staff
photo by Andrea Freygang
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A
NEW CHAPTER: Lyn Saberg, right, who chaired
Congregation Etz Chaim’s rabbi search committee,
with their new rabbi, Harold Caminker, at the gay
synagogue.
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It
wasn’t until the mid ’90s – after 10 years in a suburban Chicago
temple, eight years in San Fernando Valley and coming out privately in
Shreveport, La. – that he finally came out publicly in Dallas. After
his transitional years in Dallas, he went to Riverside, Calif., as an
openly gay rabbi.
“It was very important to be open,
especially after attending two weeklong retreats for interfaith gay
clergy, and especially after seeing Christian colleagues living with
intense suffering and personal torment,” Caminker says. “I wished
they could all join me in Reform Judaism where they could be accepted
regardless of orientation.
“Riverside was difficult at moments
because it was very conservative politically and culturally, but I had
to be out because I won’t have it any other way now. Even when I gave
sermons on Jonathan and David or Ruth and Naomi possibly being gay, they
were offended that I even raised the possibility.”
After he and the Riverside board
mutually decided to part ways, Caminker went searching for his new home,
and he says he finally found it.
“I feel fortunate because there
aren’t many gay synagogues. It satisfies a mutual need for a rabbi and
congregation,” he says. “People can look for a lifetime and never
find this. I’m particularly blessed that my seeking has finally born
fruit.
“The congregation has a strong lay
leadership, and I hope to bring a greater strength at Etz Chaim where
there’s a high level of participation.”
Saberg says that participation has risen
dramatically since Caminker joined them July 1, and that he has a gift
for building relationships between the congregation and the community.
“I haven’t been this spiritually
happy in many years, and he’s just a phenomenal individual,” she
says. “Our spiritual leader has arrived.”
Meet Congregation Etz Chaim’s
new spiritual leader from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m., Aug. 21 during their second
annual open house reception, at 1881 N.E. 26th St., Wilton Manors. The
cantorial soloist and education director as well as members of the
Men’s Club and Sisterhood will be present. Admission is free and
refreshments will be served.
Shabbat Services take
place every Friday at 8:30 p.m. and CEC membership is not required. High
Holy Days services start Oct. 3 at Soref JCC, 6501 W. Sunrise Blvd.,
Plantation. For
more information, visit etz-chaim.com
or call (954) 564-9232.
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RABBI IS HOME AT
LAST LEADER AND CONGREGATION ETZ CHAIM FIND THE PERFECT FIT.; [West
Broward Edition] |
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Lisa Bolivar
Special Correspondent. South
Florida Sun - Sentinel. Fort Lauderdale, Fla.: Jul 22,
2005. pg. 3 |
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(Copyright 2005 by the Sun-Sentinel)
It may
have taken congregation Etz Chaim nine months to find a suitable
rabbi, but it has taken a lifetime for their new rabbi to find them.
Rabbi Harold F. Caminker officially took his place on the pulpit
July 1 to the delight of the Wilton Manors congregation. He's
a wonderful, exhilarating speaker and he knows what life is about,"
said Norman Schrier of Fort Lauderdale, who was among the more than
90 people who gathered to hear Caminker's first Shabbat service as
the synagogue's rabbi. Caminker joins Etz Chaim almost nine
months after its last rabbi stepped down. Caminker, 55, is no
stranger to the pulpit. He joins Etz Chaim from a Conservative
congregation in Riverside, Calif., but describes himself as
something other than Conservative. "First of all I am a Reform
rabbi, I am a Reform Jew, and the difference between liberal and
traditional Jews is who wrote the Torah," he said. "I don't believe
God wrote every word in the Torah; Reform Jews believe that the
Torah was written by well-intentioned human beings "Times have
changed quite a bit in the last 3,500 years, since the Torah was
written," he said. Marge Congress, who now lives in
Hollywood, is past president of the Riverside congregation that
Caminker formerly served. She said she's glad to see him in South
Florida. "He's just a really outstanding man in the social realm,"
Congress said. "His services are so personal, it's like he's known
you forever." Caminker, who has been openly gay for about a
decade, said that finding a place among one of the country's oldest
gay Jewish synagogues is a dream come true. Etz Chaim, in its 32nd
year, is the second oldest gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender
synagogue in the country. New York's Congregation Beth Simchat
Torah, founded in 1973, is the oldest. "Etz Chaim has a primary
outreach to the GLBT community, and I'm a gay man, I've been out
about 10 years," Caminker said. "I've been looking for a greater
sense of harmony in my personal and professional life; I want all
the pieces of my life to come together. "That means my religion and
my sexual and my professional identities," he said in a phone
interview. "I feel for the first time in my life, that's what's now
begun, and that's a pretty heady feeling, it's exhilarating, it's
liberating." Caminker first thought about a career in law and
politics, but in 1971 he experienced a life-changing event that
"caused me to look inward," he said. "I filled out forms to
become a conscientious objector [to the Vietnam War], and on the
advice of my rabbi at the time, I did not submit them because I had
a student deferment," Caminker recalled. "But he said if I ever
needed to submit those forms, he'd back me up." That was the
summer before Caminker entered Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati,
and a time when he visited Europe through a program at Michigan
State University, an event that turned him away from law and
politics. "One of the places I visited was Germany and the
first concentration camp at Dachau, and that was the first place, if
I ever had a calling, that was it," he said.
What
ignited Caminker's instincts to help heal his people was that the
"world is a very broken place, and this may be one way for me to be
able to fix the world, or to help repair the world in a more
meaningful way than I could as a lawyer or a politician."
Caminker said it was the experience at Dachau, where so many of his
people had suffered horrors at this Nazi death camp, that he felt a
rift with gentiles. "I felt closer to Jewish people and a more
distant tie from the Europeans who were visiting the concentration
camp, who were treating it as a historical tourist site," he said.
"They were buying hot dogs and souvenirs while I was crying."
So Caminker set out to become a rabbi. He earned his doctorate of
divinity from Hebrew Union College and was ordained in 1978 in
Cincinnati, where he began practicing tikkun olam, or healing the
world. Healing is what Caminker is all about. Soon after the
attacks on the World Trade Center on Sept. 11, 2001, Caminker, still
new at the Riverside congregation, approached the local Islamic
Center and invited its imam to Yom Kippur services at the synagogue.
What resulted made an impact on Caminker, his synagogue and the
Riverside community at large. Seeds of understanding were sewn
between Riverside's Jewish and Muslim communities. During his
first Shabbat service at Etz Chaim, Caminker used the story of Moses
to illustrate the importance of being involved in the community. His
sermon was met with nods of approval. After the service, the
youngest of Caminker's three daughters (he was married about 18
years before he revealed his sexual preferences) thanked the
congregation for hiring her father. "He can be himself here,"
she told them. |
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Harold F. Caminker, Rabbi
Rabbi Harold F. Caminker is
currently the rabbi of Riverside Temple Beth El.
Some of his achievements
are:
Summer Intern in
Political Science at the University of London in England in 1971
- Bachelor of Arts
Degreee from Michigan State University in 1972
- Lived in Jerusalem
during First Year in Israel Program of Hebrew Union College in
1972-73
- Master of Arts in
Hebrew Letters from Hebrew Union College - Jewish Institute of
Religion in Los Angeles in 1975
- Spent a year as a
student rabbi at InterMet in Washington, DC, a unique interfaith
seminary program in 1975-76
- Ordained as a Rabbi
at Hebrew Union College in Cincinatti, Ohio in 1978
- Awarded a
certificate in Pastoral Counseling from the Postgraduate Center for
Mental Health in New York City in 1984
- Prior to coming to
Riverside, Rabbi Caminker served Reform congregations in Chicago,
the San Fernando Valley and Dallas, Texas
Rabbi Caminker has always
been an active member of the national and regional chapters of the
Central Conference of American Rabbis. He has served on the Board of
Directors of numerous Jewish community organizations including Jewish
Family Services, the Jewish Peace Fellowship and the Chicago Board of
Rabbis. He attended a number of international rabbinic missions
including United Jewish Appeal Missions to Poland, Turkey, Egypt and
Israel, as well as State of Israel Bonds Mission to Israel.
Rabbi Caminker has always been active in interfaith community work. He
led the first Jewish/Christian/Muslim Passover Seder at the University
of Chicago. He also led an Interfaith Symposium with Protestant and
Catholic clergy in Chicago. Currently he is a member of the Riverside
Interfaith Fellowship. In September 2001, he invited Dr. Mustafa Kuko
to offer a prayer for peace during Yom Kippur Eve worship at Riverside
Temple Beth El.
He was a featured speaker for the National Federation of Temple
Sisterhoods' convention.
He has served on Rabbinic Faculty at numerous Union of American Hebrew
Congregations summer camps for Jewish children including Camp Swig in
Saratoga, California.
Rabbi Caminker was Conference Rabbi at the World Congress of Gay and
Lesbian Jewish Organizations in Phoenix, Arizona (1998) and New Jersey
(2000).
He is the proud father of three daughters; Rachel, 18, Sarah, 16 and
Leah, 12.
Rabbi Caminker was awarded the Best Delegate Trophy at the Greater
Detriot Model United Nations Conference in 1968. Over 700 high school
age delegates were participants in a 6 month process culminating in the
conference.
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--Associated Press
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Police say stabbing outside
bar was a hate crime attack
Riverside, Calif.--Hundreds attended an outdoor memorial June
9 for a 40-year-old gay man slain in what police believe was a hate
crime.
Rabbi Harold Caminker of Temple Beth El urged about 400 people not to
let the attack of Jeffery Owens go unnoticed.
"We will not be silent," Caminker chanted several times with the
crowd.
Owens and a friend were attacked by four to six men with shaved heads
about midnight June 5 in the parking lot behind the Menagerie, a
mixed-crowd bar popular with gay men. The friend is recovering from
knife wounds.
The memorial was held in the same lot where the crime occurred.
Police Chief Russ Leach said he hoped to announce new developments in
the case in the coming days. Mayor Ron Loveridge, one of several city
leaders to attend, offered his condolences to Owens’ family and friends.
Owens’ partner, Jeff Holland, and Owens’ brother, Brent, attended the
memorial, where police officers handed out leaflets describing the
assault and composite sketches of one of the attackers. The leaflets
said police were looking for a black Chevrolet pickup with an extended
cab.
Holland, who witnessed the attack, said he heard an attacker say:
‘You want some trouble . . . fag, here it is."
A group of four to six men confronted Owens and his friend,
48-year-old Michael Bussee, outside the nightclub, where they had gone
to celebrate a friend’s birthday.
Bussee, a marriage and family therapist, said he and other friends
were standing near their van when a man ran up and hit him in the jaw.
Bussee fell into the van and then felt what he thought was a punch to
the back.
"I had no idea I had been stabbed," he said.
Owens yelled at the attacker, who turned on him. Authorities said he
was stabbed at least four times.
"I’m really convinced that he was standing up for me," Bussee said.
"He was protecting me."
Owens died in hospital. Bussee was treated and released.
--Associated Press |
Passover has always been a festive yet
poignant celebration for Peg McCay, who has observed the week-long
holiday with friends since leaving New York several decades ago.
The Redlands woman had looked forward to the start of today's
Passover but given it little thought. This year, she is again dining
at a friend's home for the holiday's first night. That meant she did
not have to cook or clean her home, both of which are extensive
tasks in keeping with the Jewish faith.
Instead, she has been busy teaching at Moore Middle School and
studying for evening classes toward a graduate degree.
McCay, who is divorced, fills every free moment channel-surfing
through television newscasts in hopes of catching a glimpse of her
youngest son. Twice, she has seen John, who serves in the Army and
has been stationed in Baghdad recently.
"The holiday will be nice because I won't be able to sit there
and think about the war," McCay said. "You get into the stories. You
think about the past. You're not thinking about your day at work."
She went on to address the importance of the holiday to Jews, how
it honors their ancestors' exodus from slavery in Egypt, and how
this year's Passover has taken on particular relevance because of
the war with Iraq. She discussed her affection for tonight's Seder,
a ritualistic meal during which stories from ancient times are
retold and family is celebrated.
McCay paused. She began to weep.
"I feel bad that John won't have an opportunity to have gefilte
fish or take part in the rituals," McCay said between sobs.
"Actually, I hadn't thought about this. When I'm sitting there doing
it, I'll probably feel really bad."
Over in Iraq with the 101st Airborne Division, John McCay won't
be celebrating Passover, or Pesach as it's called in Hebrew, McCay
said. It's not safe to commemorate Jewish holidays on Arab soil, his
mother said.
McCay's other son, Jim, won't be home this year, either. He's in
military intelligence with the Army, and she expects he will soon be
deployed from his base at Fort Huachuca, Ariz.
"Unfortunately, this probably won't be the last time we're not
all together," McCay said.
War with Iraq and unrest in the Middle East makes this year's
Passover particularly powerful for Jews, said Rabbi Jordan S.
Ofseyer of Temple Isaiah in Palm Springs. Centuries ago, Israelis
fled their enslavement by Egypt's pharaoh, whose dictator-style
leadership compares with Iraqi President Saddam Hussein, Ofseyer
said.
Watching Iraqis dancing in the streets evokes a sensation of
freedom that is the essence of Passover, he said.
"That resonates for us in a very special way," Ofseyer said.
Those in the Jewish faith did not publicly celebrate the fall of
Baghdad because of another Jewish story, which at its essence is a
lesson that in Hebrew is called a midrash. God told Israelites not
to rejoice when the parted Red Sea crashed together to drown the
Egyptians, because "your enemies are still my children," explained
Rabbi Harold Caminker of Temple Beth El in Riverside.
"This wasn't a Jewish war," Caminker said of war with Iraq. "But
Israel is one of the chief beneficiaries of the removal of this
tyrant from power."
Caminker called McCay's son a hero.
"Her son has brought freedom to the enslaved," Caminker said.
"What greater meaning of Pesach can there ever be?"
McCay says she is proud of her son, proud of both her boys. And
in searching for positives in the sadness of them being gone, she
has found something that brings some relief.
"It will mean a lot more after, because we'll look back and
remember that was the Pesach they weren't there," McCay said.
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