This was a tough, fascinating, and often vexing read. It's a book--as far as I can, it is THE ONLY book--about Orthodox Jewish tradition and homosexuality. It's written by an Orthodox Jewish Rabbi who is gay (and openly gay, and partnered). Orthodox tradition generally regards homosexuality, after the prohibition of men lying with men in Leviticus, as an abomination. So Greenberg is swimming against the tide here, as he makes a case for a reading of the Torah and traditional Jewish law that might excise the prohibition. His goal is a conversation with his Orthodox colleagues, to open minds and hearts to a view of homosexuality that moves beyond tolerance to acceptance, that understands the gay man as not a person with an affliction but simply with a difference. I applaud the goal and hope that in the nearly two decades since the book was written it has perhaps started to move the needle within Orthodox Judaism.
I am reading the book because the man I have fallen in love with is an Orthodox Jew. I am about as secular a Jew as it's possible to be, raised in the Reform movement. I want to understand what my boyfriend has been taught, and how I can provide whatever support he may need from me.
The tricky part is, that if one isn't Orthodox (as I am not) it feels difficult to understand, as the book unfolds, why Greenberg doesn't just leave Orthodox Judaism and embrace another tradition (such as Reconstructionism) where gay people are welcomed. I get that he's trying to fight a battle within the system; but the spiritual needs that Orthodoxy fills for Greenberg and presumably others aren't clear to me from the book. (I should note that in the case of my boyfriend things are clearer: he is tied to a family and community of long-standing that are bound up in Orthodox practice).
The book is a tough read, mostly. It's written in a style I can only call Talmudic, as it considers and reconsiders and examines and reexamines almost ad nauseum the various interpretations and arguments and readings of the Biblical verses that relate to homosexuality. The whole mindset of these verses is, by definition, ancient--our understanding of being gay in the contemporary Western world is less than a century old, so therefore nowhere reflected in the texts Greenberg necessarily consults and deals with.
The final chapters offer an attempt at a solution to the problem inherent in the book, wherein Greenberg imagines a conversation between a reasonably caring and enlightened Orthodox rabbi and a young man who is Orthodox and gay and wants to be both in a coherent way.
Greenberg does offer glimmers of what the solution ought to be (at least to my mind): the core of Judaism is often said to be that we are made in the image of God and must treat all others in the loving, compassionate way that follows from that idea. Shouldn't it just be that simple?
I am glad to have read this. The subject is fascinating. Reading this book was frustrating and often difficult for me, but I think will matter in my life, given my personal situation.