I am proud to be part of a country founded on the premise that every human is created equal, endowed by God with certain unalienable rights. I have always revered the Constitution’s Amendments and all Supreme Court decisions that protect and expand individual liberties. In my mind they aren’t just rulings that safeguard my freedom; they are reflective of a deep truth. Through protecting and celebrating the individual, these laws recognize the divinity of each human.
To me, the constant reevaluation of this country’s understanding of freedom and equality is a sacred act. It reveals an appreciation for each person’s thoughts, dreams, and ideals, and an acknowledgment that every person is deserving of respect. Moreover, the values of individualism, freedom, and equality that are the driving forces behind many such Supreme Court decisions, are ones that I view as essential and Godly.
Thus, this summer, as I was bombarded with reactions to Obergefel v. Hodges I felt lonely. A part of me celebrated the Supreme Court’s decision which further expanded the equality and liberty that flourishes within the United States. I felt privileged to be part of a country which cares so deeply about the rights, aspirations, and wellbeing of each individual. Yet, my celebration was tempered with pain. How could I celebrate what the Torah forbids? I realized that my deep absorption with the values of equality and liberty were estranging me from the Torah, the very Torah which I cherish, love, and am committed to with all my being.
The confusion from these feeling reminded me of Rav Soleveitchik’s renowned Lonely Man of Faith where he establishes the dichotomy between Adam I and Adam II, two opposing forces that reside within each individual. The first Adam is the universal majestic man who affirms his own dignity through creative activity. In contrast, the second Adam is the man of faith who finds fulfillment in his self-surrender to God. As a result, Adam II’s submission to God prevents man from ever fully engaging in activities of self-affirming creation.
Similarly, when surrendering to God, Adam’s I’s need to assert his own dignity prevents man’s full immersion in covenantal acts of faith. Straddling between these two worlds man is left lonely. In the Rav’s words “man does not feel at home in any community. He is commanded to move on before he strikes roots in either of these communities and so the ontological loneliness of the man of faith persists.”
I had read Rav Soleveitchik’s Lonely Man of Faith many times and thought I could identify with the loneliness he describes. But this summer I realized I had never known ontological loneliness. Generally, I am able to synthesize the different values I hold; I have often thought of my Torah and western values as coexisting in harmony. Of course they have not always perfectly synthesized, but until Obergefell v. Hodges I had never fully comprehended the implications of their contradiction. The Supreme Court’s decision compelled me realize that faith in the Torah can sometimes limit my identification with important universal ideals such as freedom and equality. It forced me to apprehend that belief in modernity can alienate me from the Torah. Never before had I felt such a pull away from the majestic community of humanity. And never before had my belief in the progressive nature of mankind so challenged my personal faith.
This summer, as I struggled with uncertainty, I also understood that it is not just that man of faith is lonely, but also that one who has never felt loneliness cannot completely be a man of faith. If one never seriously considers the other side it is easy to affirm one’s faith. The challenge is to identify with two worlds, understand what drives the forbidden practice, believe in the advocated value of liberty it represents, and still commit to halakha. Moreover, my identification with the Western values of equality and freedom ultimately caused my relationship with God to mature. The experience of wrestling with sources, not understanding, and surrendering is a humbling one. It has reminded me that openness and humility are of utmost importance when learning Torah since man can never understand God’s will.
There are those who claim that articulating confusion in regards to Obergefell v. Hodges is a distortion of authentic and Modern Orthodoxy. Yet I cannot help but question, what is Modern Orthodoxy if not identifying with two worlds? Furthermore, perhaps we may even develop a more nuanced and humble approach from this confusion. We can believe that gay marriage is forbidden and still learn from the value of respecting every person’s dignity that stands behind this Supreme Court decision. This message is one we especially need to be reminded of in light of recent actions against the homosexual community.
I acknowledge that it is easy to speak about faith when the way in which I lead my personal life is not at stake. The pain homosexual individuals within our community feel is tremendous, and though I fail to do so here, it is one we must address. My goal is also not to say that one should seek out tests of faith. But I think this conversation regarding gay marriage and all other contradictions between Torah and universal values is important.
We are all part of a unique institution where we spend our days engaged in two worlds. We often speak of how Torah U’Madda complement each other, but do we acknowledge that seriously engaging in these two realms requires confronting contradictions as well? Some of us even study constitutional law and halakha; must we be silent regarding this inconsistency between them?
If we believe in what we are doing, that both are the will of God and can bring us closer to Him, then we cannot simply compartmentalize the two. We are missing an important opportunity and being intellectually dishonest if, in our pursuit of being both Adam I and II, creators and individuals of faith, we only look at the similarities between the two spheres and ignore how they challenge one another. Facing contradictions in our quest for truth is frightening and lonely. But we can be alone together, possibly even slowly learning that living with contradictions may provide us with a unique perspective and voice to share with the world.