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CHAPTER 1: BASHERT

On a September evening in 1995, my beloved and I stood under a chuppah amidst 120 of our family, friends, and colleagues.  In the sight of G-d  and community, I entered a covenantal relationship with a woman.  Fourteen years later, my beloved and I stood again under the chuppah – that day I was legally wed to a man.  By any name, this is the same beloved, and this is the story of our 30-year journey together (so far).

In Jewish tradition, we have a word – Bashert – that is loosely translated as soulmate.  More than the western culture’s notion of stars in your eyes, giddy ‘love at first sight’ romance, Bashert is a love for all life-times – a soul you have journeyed with, time and again.  

Before Adam and Eve, there was HaAdam (The Earthling), in the first creation story of Genesis, formed from the earth; adamah.  This first creature, Jewish tradition says, was both male and female, just as the Divine encompasses all genders.  And The Blessed One looked at this creature and the rich diversity of creation and proclaimed it all Good. To this day we each contain aspects of both genders, but the Holy One realized that what was not Good, was for this being to be alone.  So, like the separation of conjoined twins, this soul was made two – and ever since we search for the other half of our soul, through this and every lifetime.  Some of us are fortunate enough to recognize our Bashert when we find each other.

I found my Bashert in the fall of 1992.  On a warm August evening I drove from our farm in Vancouver, WA to a church in southeast Portland, OR.  As the sun dipped below the roof of the sanctuary, I sat frozen in my car.  My hands shook, my knees were wobbling, and my stomach ached.  I had arrived a few minutes early and wanted to enter the church but didn’t know if I was ready to meet new people.  Part of me wanted to just turn the car around and go home.  I was not sure if I could overcome my innate shyness and lingering depression to join any group.  But I also knew that if I didn’t, I might not ever pull out of the grief that was swallowing me.  I had no way of knowing, as I sat in my clunky old Malibu, that by walking into that choir room, my life would be forever changed.  

As I sat there, I thought about what had brought me to this moment.  I had just been through a very painful two years.  I had recently broken up with my partner, of 8 years.  They say that there are 3 things which can try a relationship beyond its breaking point:  a death in the family, a move, or a change in career.  My ex, Cathy, and I had had all 3 in the course of a little less than two years.  First, her grandmother – who I loved as much as she did – had died at the age of 93.  Then within a short time, my own health succumbed to such a persistent case of bronchitis that the fancy New York pulmonologist said I needed to get out of the city and leave my position serving people with AIDS.  Cathy had spent her whole life in the boroughs of New York City and had a good job working for the New York City Housing Authority, but honoring our commitment to one another, she left family and friends to journey with me back to the Northwest, my home.  I quickly got a job as the manager of a retirement community, but Cathy did not have such luck; the small town feel of the Rogue Valley was truly as far from the Grave’s End neighborhood of Brooklyn, as you could get.   
I became president of the local businesswomen’s networking organization, and a member of the Chamber of Commerce.   Cathy, without a job to fill her days, was invited by the Activities Director at my facility, to come volunteer with the elders.  As a former nun and teacher, Cathy had supported the older nuns in her convent, so was perfectly at home doing so with the elders in our facility.   In the spring of 1991, however, I was informed that anonymous persons had begun sending faxes to the owner of the corporation, (to his home no less), complaining that I was a lesbian and that my life partner was frequently at the facility.
When I learned this, I called my employer to find out if this were true, and was taken completely by surprise when, rather than being angry that a stranger would invade the privacy of his home, he instead was furious with my, “lack of discretion!  How could you be so stupid as to bring her into that building!”  I reminded him, “In the first place, I didn’t.  The activity director recruited a qualified volunteer, and that was all.  There were no improprieties.  Cathy has been no different than any other well-intentioned volunteer.”  But his only concern was the possibility that this ‘scandal’ would tarnish his reputation.  “That doesn’t change the fact that you have shown poor judgment.  I should fire you here and now!”  I informed him that, “I’m sorry to hear you say that, but no improprieties have occurred, so if you go that route, I will be forced to pursue legal remedies for being fired unjustly.”   

Neither he nor I were aware that I did not have legal recourse in our state at the time, to do so, which was still true in many states until 2020.  The Supreme Court has affirmed that it is not legal to discriminate against LGBTQ people in employment.  The threat of such action at the time, however, was enough to make my boss discontinue the conversation. Unfortunately, a month later I was fired.  The official cause given was a stretch; stating my dismissal was for poor marketing skills, because my facility had two vacancies out of 84 units.  This, at a time when the other two facilities in the corporation each had 16 vacancies; when two new competitive facilities had opened during the month and were heavily recruiting our residents (none of whom chose to move); and when in that month and the preceding month, my requests for additional advertising funds had been denied.

A few days after my termination, one of my employees called me at home.  The night before, he had covertly attended the local meeting of an anti-gay organization flourishing in Oregon, and was surprised to hear announced, as one of their accomplishments for the month, the firing of, “the lesbian who managed Madison House.”

On the day of my termination, I coincidentally learned that my father had an aggressive and inoperable form of lung cancer; and that he wanted me to come to Vancouver to be his caregiver during what proved to be a truly short battle.  Because of my work with people with AIDS and with seniors, he felt I was better prepared to navigate his terminal condition than the rest of my family.  I chose to honor his wishes, rather than stay and fight for this job.

From the date of diagnosis until my father’s death, was a mere month.  It was the kind of end that suited Daddy.   He told Cathy and me that, “I’m grateful to have time to say goodbye, but I don’t want to linger as a burden to anyone.”  He resisted taking any pain medications, and the admission they represented.  The delivery person for the hospice agency was in the middle of assembling the hospital bed, as Daddy took his last breath.
In the wake of my father’s passing, Cathy experienced the same sense of isolation I had experienced during the days after her grandmother’s passing.    When you were not the ‘legitimate’ daughter-in-law (in the days before marriage was legalized), the polite and awkward word used to introduce you (to extended family and friends of the deceased) was ‘Friend.’  While I prepared meals and pills (and my mother and siblings prepared for the inevitable), Cathy was the one who sat and listened – in the moment - as Daddy shared his memories and regrets.  
But despite my father’s wishes, the discomfort with my orientation that had chased me away from my family to begin with, rendered our relationship invisible.   Families are not at their best amid heartache.  The uncomfortable silences and stilted conversations could not have been louder; her presence was unwanted, and her grief was trivial.  I recognized it too well, having been similarly treated both at her grandmother’s passing and that of my first partner’s father.  Neither her family nor mine intended cruelty, but I was powerless to fix it for her, when I felt just as marginalized.

The cumulative weight of loss upon loss took its toll on an already bumpy relationship, and within a year we separated; she, to begin a career of activism and I, to try to rebuild my life. It was only in the wake of grief for my father, that I began to feel the reverberations of grief, shame and trauma from being fired unjustly.

I decided I needed a fun, creative outlet to counter the grief and depression that were consuming me.  I was hoping to find friends when I saw a notice for a non-auditioned choir.  Singing had always been a salve for my soul.  Portland Lesbian Choir had a practice of having existing members serve as welcoming ‘buddies’ for new members.  Little did I know, walking into that choir room, that I would find the love of my life and begin a miraculous journey.  
 
That first evening, this lithe, outgoing dyke stepped up to welcome me and the other new sopranos. “Hi, I’m Lauren! I’m going to be your Choir Buddy!”   Lauren was the same height as me, at 5’2”, but while I was soft and femme, she was athletic and androgynous.  She was full of ‘boyish’ charm - and knew she looked good in her tight 501 jeans, white muscle shirt and grey fedora.  I appreciated the charisma this adorable dyke exuded; her freckled face and brilliant blue eyes were as sunny as her disposition. But even as I caught my breath, I knew I was not ready to pursue anything more than friendship.  

We were voiced next to each other, and Lauren showed me the ropes of the choir’s practices.  She learned that I had a background in musical theatre and had been a soloist in my church choir in New York.  She was just embarking on solo work.  A friendly competition developed; with our voices so similar, we found ourselves auditioning for the same solos.  

After one sectional rehearsal she asked me to come hear her sing, “I’ve got my first solo gig next week, and was wondering if you’d come and give me some feedback?”   I was grateful to be making a friend.  When on stage (or in a leadership role) I could appear confident and assertive, but my true nature was always that of awkward shyness.  As an introvert, I still do not usually initiate social engagements without the aid of a “job” or task to ground me.  

When I showed up at the coffee house, it was in a downpour – typical for fall in Portland.  The coffee shop had not yet opened, so women were huddling under the eaves of the building, trying to stay dry.  When Lauren saw me walk up, she ran through the torrents to greet me, telling me, “I’m so glad you accepted my invitation!”.  We shared my umbrella, as she told me about the performance space and her musical selections.  After the doors opened, she headed backstage, and I found a seat for myself at the coffee bar, while the house filled.  The emcee for the evening was a local lesbian comic, who had a standing line of something like, “Turn to the dyke next to you and say – ain’t it great to be a lesbian!”  The dyke next to me turned, looked, and said, “Oh, I’m sorry!”  I had always had curves, and at 5’2” any added weight made my face and figure somewhat matronly.  As a former actress, I had learned that I tend to disappear behind my glasses unless I wear makeup, and my complexion perks up when I wear jewel-toned clothes.  In short, I found strength in being a femme so did not fit the stereotype for many feminist lesbians back in the day.   There were frequently women who believed I could not possibly be a lesbian!  After the awkward moment passed, and the woman turned back toward the stage, Lauren came on stage.  She sang a medley of Cole Porter standards – and I was enchanted.  

From there a friendship began to develop in earnest.  Like me, she was just getting over a breakup and still reclaiming her own individuality.  She had been with her partner for a little over two years, and they were working on becoming friends once more.  But like me, she had been striving for a long-term commitment and was still coming to terms with that loss.  

We each found ourselves in a world which barely recognized that we too (in the LGBT world at that time), wanted the same ‘happily ever after’ as our straight family and friends, and suffered the same heartache at its dissolution.

In the fall of 1992, Oregon’s gay and lesbian citizens were under siege from a mean-spirited movement called Oregon Citizens Alliance.  They had put forward an initiative on the ballot, Measure 9, which would have amended the Oregon constitution to prevent what the OCA called "special rights" for homosexuals and bisexuals.   If passed, it would have added a provision to the state constitution, that the state, "recognizes homosexuality, pedophilia, sadism and masochism as abnormal, wrong, unnatural, and perverse." 

The OCA’s rhetoric was creating not only heated debate but led to overt discrimination and hatred resulting in the deaths of Hattie Mae Cohens and Brian Mock when their home was firebombed in the fall of 1992.  In response to this, the Portland Lesbian Choir and the Portland Gay Men’s Chorus took a road trip, performing in churches and civic centers in parts of the state where the OCA had its strongest hold.  This fight was very personal for me, for this was the very group which took credit for my firing the year earlier.
So, it was with trepidation and conviction that I stepped onto that bus of singers, to head back to southern Oregon.  Being with such talented, passionate individuals, as we sang for our lives, was exhilarating.   For some of the singers, it was their first time in rural Oregon. Likewise for some rural Oregonians, it was the first time they were aware of meeting gay men and lesbian women.  We were touched by the outpouring of kindness by members of the local communities who opened their homes for us, as their houseguests, each night after performances.  In the whole tour I only saw one person with a hateful picket sign, but in the shadow of the murders of Cohens and Mock, tensions and anxiety ran high.

Long hours of performing and even longer hours on buses, driving down the highway, allowed for both playfulness and introspection.  Late in the tour, the women on our bus began a titillating game of Truth or Dare.  For my part, my years of acting came to the aid of my natural shyness – I pretended to sleep, so that I could observe but not have to participate.  I ‘slumbered’ as the women around me challenged each other to reveal likes, dislikes, escapades, and experiences.  The woman who lasted until the end, was Lauren.  I became even more intrigued by this open and exuberant woman.

After we returned to Portland, we began having coffee and dinner dates – still just as friends.  But the more we talked, the more we wanted to learn.  Even though we came from quite different backgrounds – she, from an affluent Jewish family and me, from a poor Catholic family – we delighted in the similarity of our values, beliefs, interests and desires.  I became aware, despite my continued sense of loss, that the electricity I had felt that first evening was growing.  But I was still hesitant to consider trading this deepening friendship for something that could potentially be a fleeting infatuation.  

On the evening of the dress rehearsal for our winter concert, we were out to dinner at Red Robin, and the topic of desire came up.  We were discussing our recent relationships – what had gone awry for each.  Our relationships were not so different from the challenges of any heterosexual relationship.  However, at the time many of us believed in the myth of a phenomenon called Lesbian Bed Death, wherein intimacy dwindles and, in some cases, becomes non-existent. Lesbian Bed Death (LBD) was a term coined in 1983 by sociologist Pepper Schwartz, of the University of Washington, that hypothesized that lesbians who enter a long-term relationship will ultimately have sex less than any other type of couple.   With my former partner, there had been shared passion for LGBT rights and passionate arguments, but our needs for intimacy never seemed in sync. I was delighted to learn that Lauren, like me, had a healthy libido and wanted a relationship with a partner who not only shared that same energy, but who wanted to sustain that passion over the long haul.  Another jewel was tucked away in my growing chest of things I treasured about Lauren.

After our winter concert, I decided to return to New York for a short visit with friends.  In the time since losing my management position, over a year before, I had not had any luck in finding a comparable position in the Portland/Vancouver metro area.  Yet, while in New York, I received not one, but five different job offers from former colleagues.  I came home with my head spinning.  Friends and colleagues were encouraging me to return to New York, and it definitely ‘made sense’ despite the health concern (since time had passed for my lungs to heal).  But something was tugging at me.

The week after I got back from New York, I had brunch with Lauren.  We met at the Shilo Inn, near Portland International Airport. She asked me, “How was your trip?”  I told her, “Well, it was exciting and confusing!” I told her about the opportunities and possibilities that awaited if I returned to my former home.   She agreed, “Wow!  Yeah, I guess that certainly does make practical sense.”  Like a true friend, she said, “I’m going to miss you!  But I understand that you need to follow your highest good.”  We continued to have a lovely brunch, talking about less monumental things, until we parted and each headed home.  But once I got home, I found myself anxious – there was something I needed to say and lacked the courage to do so.  Whether it was the angels or my Daddy’s spirit, someone gave me a swift kick in the backside; I picked up the phone.  I called Lauren, and it went something like this:

“Hi – Lauren?”  (She responded hi, but I had apparently woken her from a nap).  “Oh, I’m sorry –if this isn’t a good time, we can talk later….” She said, “No, it’s okay.  What’s up?”  I gulped, breathed hard, and then launched with the speed of an auctioneer… “Well, I realized I didn’t say something at lunch, and you don’t need to say anything, but I need to get it off my chest.  I realized when I was in New York, that yes, it made sense for me to go back, but I also realized that there was something holding me here too.  You see, the thing is,…. I’m attracted to you, and my one regret about going is that we won’t get to see what might have developed.  Well, that is all I want to say.  Like I said, you don’t have to say anything – I just felt it wasn’t honest not to tell you.  I’ll hang up now – have a good nap.”  As I was hurrying to put down the receiver, she yelled into the phone, “Wait a minute!  Don’t I get to say something here??”  “Oh really, you don’t have to.” “Well, may I?”  “Um, okay,” I squeaked.  “After you laid that bombshell on me at the restaurant, I was really trying to be a good friend, but I was also disappointed – I wanted to see where this was going too!”  “….Really?  You don’t have to say that, just to be nice.”  “I’m not.  Look, who knows where this would have gone, but you aren’t leaving for a few months.  Can we just enjoy the moment – until you go?”  Years later, Lauren told me that in that moment, she really wasn’t sure how she felt about me but experienced a sense of faith that this was a relationship worth exploring.  

Two weeks later we had our first official date, on Feb. 13th, 1993.  We expressly did not want the first date to be on Valentine’s – way too much pressure there.  

I climbed the stairs to her little white bungalow, which sat above the street level, and rang the doorbell.  I had brought a single yellow rose and presented it when she opened the door.  She was wearing tight black jeans, and a black button-down shirt with a splash of blues and purples. She made the arrangements for us to go to Hobo’s, an LGBT-positive restaurant in Portland’s Old Town.  With its exposed brick and shimmering candlelight, the restaurant lended itself to romance.   The host escorted us up the stairs to our table.  I do remember tasting the food – it was luscious – but not nearly as luscious as looking at Lauren in the candle glow, as the light played against her auburn curls and danced in her blue eyes.  She told me afterwards that she was captivated by the way the light accentuated the glow of my silk fuchsia blouse.  It was becoming the most romantic date I had ever enjoyed.  After dinner, Lauren suggested, “Why don’t we go back to my house.  We can watch music videos and talk.”

We had been friends for 9 months.  She made me laugh – not only more than I had during the crises of the preceding two years – more than I had in the preceding 33 years of life.  It was pure joy to be in her company.  When she put her arm around me that night, it was like coming home.  And when she kissed me for the first time, it felt as if the fire of my soul, and my whole being, were being enveloped in a heat beyond passion; flamed into the highest alchemy of unity.  Even so, we had each been ‘burned’ in the past, so we proceeded tenderly and a little timidly at first.  While we welcomed the heat, we did not want to become so inflamed as to lose the selves we had each been reclaiming.  Rather than taking me to her bedroom that first night, she said, “It may sound strange, but I prefer to not invite people into my bedroom so soon.  How would you feel if I invited you to my guest room?” She took me by the hand and escorted me upstairs.  Like many old houses, the stairs were narrow going up, but on the left was a beautiful stained glass and on the right the modern oak banister was met by a clear glass partition; the two sides mingling what I was beginning to know about Lauren - a sense of rootedness in the history of Portland with an openness and clarity that allowed her to move through life with integrity.  With a low light in an alcove, she beckoned me to lay down on the bed.  We did not completely disrobe (though later she told me that she was enraptured by the fuchsia undergarments revealed beneath the blouse.)  Tentatively, tenderly, and finally tumultuously we kissed, embraced, and explored until dawn – but we refrained from actually making love.

In the dawn hours of a new day, we both sensed that while we might be playing with fire, we needed to see if this alchemy was true.  There was still the reality that I was planning to leave.  Could the passion be sustained in a long-distance relationship – or should it?  I had dated a handful of men and women through the years but had only been in two serious relationships (both with women); one lasting 2 ½ years and the other 8 years.  Never had I been the instigator of a relationship, and never before had I intentionally decided to have an affair with no expectation of a long-term commitment. I had always been the passive recipient of others’ interest.  Lauren had had numerous shorter-term relationships; her two longer term relationships lasting 4 and 2 years respectively. She was the child of divorce, so did not have the example I received from Mama and Daddy of what a lifetime can look like, and as such was more cautious about committing her heart.  We decided to commit only to having an affair, with no strings attached, to see if this had staying power or was just a passing passion.  We both needed to learn who each of us was; what history had brought us to what felt like a transformative moment.

Chapter 12: Beloved Community

      While we were very blessed by the sacramental union we had shared, and had been witnessed by family and friends, we never ceased believing that same-sex couples should have the right to marry legally.  We were interviewed several times, sort of as a poster family for gay marriage.  And I was invited to speak before both houses of the Oregon legislature, on more than one occasion.

When DOMA[1] was made the law of the land denying our family’s rights, (a year after our wedding), Lauren was quoted in The Oregonian newspaper, “It's pure discrimination,'' said Lauren H. Gevurtz, who was married to Terri by a minister from the God Connection, a center of New Thought spirituality associated with the Living Enrichment Center in Wilsonville. “I've done a traditional thing by marrying my partner, but they're saying our family has no worth.''

      For years the religious right denigrated LGBTQ folk as lacking morals because of “unwed sex”, and yet just as loudly decried our attempts to marry as dismantling the sanctity of the vows.  But even during the ongoing political debate, what was made real for us was how spiritual community could sustain us against the buffets of politics.  Gesher had never intended that the folks who came through their doors should stay there; they encouraged folks newly connected to their Jewish homes to move on to the next step, of joining a synagogue.  We found our next spiritual home at Shir Tikvah.  This small and young community had been formed from a splinter from Congregation Beth Israel.  One of the appealing things that drew us in were the familiar faces of people who had either been friends of Pearl & Harry or were friends of John and Myra.  The community formed in the hopes of bringing back to town the former assistant rabbi at Beth Israel, Rabbi Ariel Stone, who was on sabbatical in Israel.  The first gathering we attended, in Mt Tabor Park, was such a welcoming experience.  And upon her return not only did we recognize an ally in Rabbi Ariel, but Rose was absolutely smitten with her.

In the beginning of 2004, all of the nation watched as first Massachusetts, and then San Francisco began issuing marriage licenses to gay men and lesbians.  And then an unexpected miracle happened.  On the evening of March 3, 2004, I got a phone call from Cathy, who continued to work at Basic Rights Oregon.  She informed me that, in a surprise move at 5 pm that evening, our Multnomah County commissioners had voted to allow same-sex marriages to take place beginning the next day.  No one knew how long or if these marriages would be allowed to stand, so there was a mad dash to make this dream a reality.  When we arrived at the county offices the next morning, the line was already around the block. 

      In the press conference that morning, County Chair Diane Linn announced, “...We are here today to announce a recent legal opinion given to us by our county attorney, which states that it is in violation of the Oregon Constitution to discriminate against citizens applying for marriage licenses based on their gender or sexual orientation….”

We were among the first 422 couples that received their licenses on that first day, and there were over 2100 couples wed in the first month.  As Lauren and I stood in line, there was a festive air, with local shops bringing coffee, pastries, balloons, and flowers to all the beloveds.  Steve had agreed to keep Rose for the morning, while we waited in the first long line to get our license.  They arrived just before we entered the county building, to present us with wildflower bouquets.  I had set out the same dress for Rose to wear that I wore as the flower girl for my grandparents (Rose & Jacob’s) 50th wedding ceremony.  Then Steve and our Rose joined us in the second long line, at the Keller Auditorium (our largest entertainment venue at the time), up the winding stairs to where all the officiants were stationed around the mezzanine lobby areas.

We were very blessed that our congregational rabbi, Rabbi Ariel, was among the dozens of ministers, rabbis and judges who volunteered their time to officiate at these ceremonies – and was the celebrant at our own wedding, which was witnessed by Lauren’s sister Kim, Rose & Steve, along with our nieces, and friends Heidee & Bob.

I cannot adequately express the cathartic, elated, deeply emotional simcha[2] it was, when the Hebrew blessings were joined with, “By the power vested in me by the State of Oregon and the County of Multnomah…”  Lauren and I were both sobbing at this awesome moment.  Afterwards, Lauren reflected that, “At our first ceremony (when we got to the ‘until death do you part’ bit), I wasn’t so sure I could make a lifetime commitment, given my family history.  But today, when Ariel said, “By the power vested in me,” I had such an overwhelming sense of love and commitment - I knew in that moment I was truly able to make this a lifetime commitment.”

For one year, we enjoyed the security of legal marriage and all the 1,400 rights and benefits thereof.  Some in the state, however, had felt blindsided by the County’s decision to begin issuing marriage licenses.  The conservative elements in the state jumped on the situation, placing Measure 36 on the November 2, 2004 ballot, as an initiated constitutional amendment.  Unlike the earlier measures, it was approved. The measure banned same-sex marriages by only recognizing marriage between one man and one woman as valid.  

For decades the conservative elements have said they are just trying to preserve traditional marriage, and yet, what they define as traditional, biblical marriage was not the only form of covenanting found in the Hebrew scriptures they reference.  They point to Adam and Eve, but even 2,000 years ago the sages recognized that before Eve tradition tells there was a first wife – Lilith.  We see Abraham in a throuple with Sara and Hagar.  We see Jacob with Rachel, Leah, Bilha and Zilpah.  We see Naomi convenanting with Ruth, and David expressing his love for Jonathan.  Families have always come in different configurations.  Love knows no bounds.

  As a result of the measure, on April 14, 2005, the Oregon State Supreme Court nullified the approximately 3,000 same-sex marriages that had been performed in Oregon.  The morning the news came out, Rose and I were driving to school.  The Oregonian captured our heartbreak on the front page of the April 15 issue, featuring (as their early edition lead) Rose’s question to me, as we heard the news in the car, “Does that mean we’re not a family anymore?” Both the early and the later (renamed) edition featured a large picture of Lauren and me, as we experienced this grief, juxtaposed against a photo of the smirks of a conservative straight couple at their “victory”.   The reporter was at the house and captured Lauren’s and my initial conversation:

“Lauren came home Thursday morning on a break between her two teaching jobs, sat with Rivka on the couch and took Rivka’s hands in hers.

‘It’s been a hard day; I did pretty good until you got here.’ Rivka said as she began to cry.  ‘It doesn’t change who we are,’ Lauren said. 

She said the sadness that gripped her earlier was giving way to anger as she thought about their daughter.  ‘She was told that because one of us doesn’t have boy parts, our marriage will never be as good,’ Lauren said.  ‘It is not as real; it is not as important…. Your moms’ relationship doesn’t count.’.....Rivka Gevurtz said she looked forward to the day when people accept her family as ‘an American family.”

But in spite of the machinations of our political system, we received such an outpouring of love and support from our congregation, our family, our neighbors and our colleagues, that Rose quickly realized that nothing would change the fact that we are a family blessed by G-d with love.  One of the esteemed elders of our congregation sent us a note that reflected the sentiments shared with us by other congregants, “,,,I want to say, however belatedly, how sorry I am about the latest legal developments.  You have my support, affection, and good wishes as your family goes on raising that lovely child and caring for each other.  You are in my thoughts and prayers with hope for the future.”

The spring months got very busy as we spent a great deal of time down in Salem, lobbying and testifying before both houses.  In fact, one Republican Senator, the late Ben Westlund, was so captivated by Rose, having a conversation with her as we sat in the hall waiting for me to give testimony, that he asked if she might speak.  She and Lauren came up with me to testify, but when he asked Rose to speak, she was too shy.  She sat next to me as I gave my testimony:

“Chair Brown, members of the committee, my name is Rivka Gevurtz.  This is my partner Lauren and our daughter Rose.  Rose has a lot to do with why we are here today. I am a homemaker, a volunteer in my faith community and am the mother of this precious six-year-old.  I am also a lesbian, in a twelve year, committed relationship.  My partner and I first sanctified that commitment ten years ago in a celebration of holy union and then had that sacramental covenant recognized legally on March 4th of last year.  Our marriage was officiated by our congregational rabbi and witnessed by our daughter, as well as by other family members. I come to you today to urge your support of Senate Bill 1000.

For the cost of a $60 marriage license, our heterosexual counterparts are afforded invaluable rights and responsibilities which protect their families financially, medically, and morally. My partner and I have spent $4,590 in the last dozen years to provide ourselves with just a handful of the protections which would be afforded to us with this legislation. Even though we now have in place powers of attorney, wills, and other instruments, so long as we are viewed as second class citizens, those documents cannot give us peace of mind. Those who opposed our right to marry campaigned for Measure 36 saying that they just didn't want us using the "M” word - now they are saying that they do not want us to have civil unions. In some states even now, there has been legislation which would nullify not only our marriage, but any form of protection we would avail ourselves of.

Those who oppose this legislation would have you believe that we do not need these protections.  But these provisions also protect the best interests of this state.  A year and a half ago, I had to give up my position as executive director of a small nonprofit, for health reasons. My partner has willingly supported me. It has been a financial struggle, but one which we have committed to "in sickness and in health". We are fortunate that my partner's employer has domestic partnership benefits so that our daughter and I are covered. Through passage of SB 1000, the state is assured that my partner will continue to provide for our family's needs. It would appear that our opponents would rather I be a burden on the health and welfare system than allow my partner the right and responsibility to support me and our daughter. 

Regardless of the fact that our marriage has been annulled, we are still a family. I wish that I could share with you all the notes, phone calls and good wishes that our neighbors, co-workers and co-congregants have shared with us. These good people represent the true spirit of Oregon - across age, religious, and economic differences, they all honor our family with their support.

Those who do not know us think they can define our family, but they cannot. They have confused religious rites with civil rights. Their religion tells them that their view of life is the only acceptable view. We too are people of faith and active in our synagogue, where we are accepted as a family. The Jewish Reform, Reconstructionist and Renewal movements all honor our right to the covenant of marriage within their positions.  The basic tenets of this state and this nation, which separate church and state, do so as a means of protecting the rights of the minority from being infringed upon by a zealous majority. 

Lastly, I want to share with you what this means to our daughter.  When she and I heard the Supreme Court’s ruling on the radio, she asked me, “Mommy, does that mean they won’t let us be a family anymore?”  For the first time, I saw fear living in my daughter’s eyes.  She has trouble going to sleep.  She’s needed much more nurturing and holding than usual.  As it would happen, this past week she has been having trouble with a bully at school.  We’ve taught her, as our tradition dictates, that you stand up to bullies and hold them accountable.  I am here tonight, as is my daughter, so that she sees her parents also are called to speak for justice and against bigotry.

The Gevurtz family has been proud to be Oregonians for over 120 years - our daughter is the fifth generation. We believe in the fair-mindedness which has been the hallmark of this state. Please, I beg of you to protect all the families in this great state by passing SB 1000.  I want to thank the committee for your thoughtful consideration of this testimony and am happy to answer any questions.

  SB 1000, which would have legalized civil unions, passed the Senate and would have passed the House – had the then Speaker of the House not gutted it in the closing days of the session.  As recorded in Wikipedia, in its piece on Ben Westlund, “During the 2004 election, Westlund endorsed Ballot Measure 36, which outlawed same-sex marriage in Oregon.  After learning that research claims by Measure 36 proponents, on which he had relied, were rejected by the researcher, he personally called the researcher to apologize, expressing regret for supporting the measure.  He subsequently sponsored a bill in the legislature to allow civil unions. That effort was defeated in part thanks to opposition by Speaker of the House Karen Minnis…” Ben, years later, told me (during a chance meeting at Gay Pride) that meeting Rose was one of the experiences which led him to leave the conservative group mind.  Ben was an honorable man, who (once he realized the harm his Republican party’s agenda was promoting) did everything in his power to right that wrong.

The 10th anniversary of our vows was to have been the culmination of the legal process for us (as well as a re-covenant of our religious vows, this time in a fully Jewish ceremony).  At first reaction we could have said – what’s the point?   But our rabbi observed that the point is that, just as we were surrounded by the love of 120 family & friends 10 years before, our family continued to be blessed by the support of our community.  G-d has supported us these many years in truly miraculous ways, and I knew in my heart that the day would come when compassion and love would prevail over baseless fear and hate.

We stood once more under a chuppah, at our congregation, and recommitted our love and marriage in faith, if still not sanctioned by the state.

10th Anniversary Vows

Both: In celebration of the 10 years that have passed since we joined our lives in marriage; years that have included joy and sorrow, delights and difficulties, intimacy and conflict, laughter and tears, and above all love and devotion, we reaffirm our commitment to each other as beloveds and partners in marriage.

L:  I cherish your passion, your faith, your humor and your gentle nurturing.

R: With the passage of time, I have a deeper appreciation of the verse from the Song of Songs, “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”…my love for you has deepened over the years.  I appreciate your strength, your wisdom, your playfulness and your understanding.

L: I promise to stand by you always; to be joy to your heart and food to your soul; to bring out the best in you, and for you, to be the most that I can. And when we grow old may we walk together hand in hand, still feeling the sweetness of our devotion.

R: I give myself without reservation to you as my partner in life.

L: We have built a home together and filled it with laughter, empathy, faith, imagination, trust, and companionship with our child and friends.

R: May our home remain an environment dedicated to peace, hope and respect for all people and the planet that sustains us; a home filled with love, learning, and compassion.  May the coming years bring blessings of happiness to us and our loved ones.

L: As we savor the fruits of our marriage and dream of the years to come, let us reaffirm our holy bonds with these blessings: May we treasure, nourish, support and respect each other with integrity, as Jewish couples have timelessly devoted themselves to their lovers. May our love continue to deepen and grow. May our days be filled with contentment, joy and the comfort of each other’s presence.

Both:  With my beloved by my side, every day is good to awaken to,

and every moment is a gift.

Feeling so blessed, so held by the community and by G-d, that old sense of calling was becoming louder and louder.  While at Shir Tikvah, I had stepped back into lay leadership, both on the religious services committee as well as a religious educator.  I had started an adult bat mitzvah exploration, but it was becoming clear that I needed to look once again at calling.  The challenge was that Shir Tikvah was an independent congregation, not part of one of the major Jewish movements.  I began a discernment process, looking at the theologies of all the Jewish movements, to see which one was the best fit for me to pursue ordination as a rabbi.  I had the privilege of working with all of the synagogues (and their religious leadership) during my time at both the Jewish Community Center and Northwest Jewish Environmental Project, so had a pretty good sense of potential mentors.  I found that, even though my conversion had been through the Reform movement, at Gesher, my personal theology was much more aligned with the Jewish Renewal movement.

Jewish Renewal is the youngest of the movements, having been formed in the 1960’s by a charismatic rabbi by the name of Zalman Schachter-Shalomi (may his memory be a blessing).  Reb Zalman, as he was lovingly known, had also been a spiritual seeker, going from an orthodox youth and being ordained as a Chabad rabbi, to entering the counterculture world of the 1960’s; which transformed him as much as those he intended to proselytize to.  What was born of this journey was a tradition which is the most liberal politically of all the movements yet draws on the rich mysticism of Hasidic Judaism.  The only Jewish Renewal congregation in town was led by a friend and colleague from my environmental days, Rabbi Aryeh Hirschfield (of blessed memory).  To be considered for acceptance into the Jewish Renewal seminary program (the only one at the time with a low residency model that would work with my family obligations) would require I work with a mentor and join a Renewal congregation.  Aryeh agreed to be my mentor and so we joined his Jewish Renewal congregation, P’nai Or.

While it meant leaving Shir Tikvah, we did so with our rabbi’s blessing.  And when folks at  P’nai Or heard that we were joining (those who had participated in my Jewish environmental work), they were thrilled.  I was immediately invited to serve as principal of the religious education program.  By this time, Lauren was back in the school district but was also furthering her own learning by working on an administrator’s license, to become a principal.  Rather than accepting the position myself, I recommended, and Lauren was hired as their next principal.  For my part, I became the rabbi’s assistant and a religious education teacher.  And then, when Lauren’s teaching schedule grew back to full time, we first served as co-principals, and then I replaced her as principal of the religious school after a couple of years. 

We continued, in this congregation, to be blessed by the relationships of community.  As Reb Aryeh’s assistant, I got to explore the elements of serving a congregation and began to collaborate in crafting services, renewing rituals and engaging once again in pastoral care of the sick. Lauren and I both enjoyed singing with the Zingers (choir) and developed deep friendships throughout the congregation.

In contrast to the warm welcome and support we received from both of these synagogues, Sandra experienced something quite different.  When she had finally moved back to the Portland Metro area, from Texas, she chose to move to Vancouver, where she bought a sweet home.  Even though she had been raised Presbyterian, the nearest church was a Baptist community, and she soon made several new friends there.  She wrote to us the following letter, describing her experience:

“Dear Lauren and Rivka, You may be surprised to read this, but you know I love you and I am , as well, a political animal.  ….When I retired, I wanted to get back into a spiritual community.  I found this Baptist church and I knew the fundamental basis from which it operated. ...I never heard in 6 months judgmental remarks - only the belief that it was so important to believe in Christ.  What I found were sermons that made sense about living better with a practical approach.  I found a friendly and cohesive community of churchgoers who seemed to want to help people.  ...Last Sunday, the pulpit preached against the new Washington law granting the gay community protection from discrimination in job, insurance, etc.  I was so angry, the enclosed [letter] is the result of that anger.  I will continue to look for a local church where my spirituality can grow.  ...For better or worse the following is how I felt in the heat of anger.  I hope my arguments are as strong as passionate.  Thought you might like to know how I felt.  Love, Mom”  

What followed was a heart-felt 3-page letter to the pastor that began, “..I have just walked out in the midst of your services today and I will not be back….I cannot support or attend a church that offends me.  Your reference to the State of Washington Legislation as related to homosexuals was just too much for me today. Your simple remarks to lump the Washington law as a bad thing with other bad things you mentioned amazed me…. As a leader of a church I hope you realize that such remarks influence the uninformed, the ignorant and prejudices of some Christians…. I might ask, do you know a married homosexual couple of good standing in the community?  Do you know the body of evidence of science about human sexuality?...Why are you promoting from God’s pulpit hate for people most of your congregation has never known? ...When a leader of a church preaches out of prejudice against the legislation for civil freedoms denied the homosexual community, then I cannot respect him or that church….. It is personal to me and to others who love brothers, sons, daughters, etc who do not meet your standards of sexually or in religious beliefs.  I have a wonderful daughter who is married to a lovely woman.  My daughter is a teacher who does not convert her students to her sexual persuasion.  She is an exemplary mother.  She abides by the laws of her community and country.  She is education coordinator for her synagogue where sexual orientation is not an issue, and her mate is working toward being a Rabbi.  To ask a gay individual or couple to go to a lawyer and draw up documents that the heterosexual individual does not have to do for such simple rights is discrimination under our Constitution.  ...When you used the recently passed state law as an example of something evil in your sermon today, I feel you are talking about my lovely daughter…  This one issue has raised passion in me for what is right.  I have been trying to find ways to be of service.  I have prayed about this.  Now it is so clear.  God was wondering when I would wake up from trying to accept the narrow and distorted Christian ethics you preach.  I now know that I must find a church that really reaches out to anyone in need and brings compassion to those who are different. I cannot ignore your remarks in church because they are so hurtful to my daughter and to others like her and goes against the very core of my belief in a loving, forgiving and redemptive God….”  Among the most powerful images of the Divine in the Psalms are those that depict a mother bear.  Lauren’s mama bear continued to be a devoted, fiercely protective and loving matriarch for her children until the day she died.

While conservative religious traditions, then and now, continue to rely on the fear of a judgmental G-d, the vast majority of mainline and progressive denominations have evolved to understand the movement of a loving G-d, the role of scientific research, and the misuse of the Bible (through distorted understandings of text) all to foster myths to control the populous, are the true evil.  The vast majority of the faithful (and unchurched alike) have welcomed us into community as well as into religious leadership. Today there are lgbtqia+ rabbis, ministers, cantors, Buddhist monks and Muslim imams.

Meanwhile, Lauren got a summer job, working for Summerbridge Portland, as the Dean of Faculty. This unique summer school program paired up aspiring educators with disadvantaged middle school students.  It was the dream job.  But even for the average person sometimes we worry that things are going so good, that something will go wrong.  For someone living with anxiety disorder, that worry was a sense of dread.  Lauren’s condition had surfaced off and on throughout the years but was generally well managed by medication.  The usual triggers were nausea or becoming cold at night.  The summer was going very well, when midway through, Lauren began experiencing daily anxiety and panic attacks.  While she was still able to rise to the needs of her charges, it became clear to her that she needed to enter a 10-day anxiety program to refresh her skills at handling this disorder.  After doing so, she came back fully functioning and finished the program strong.  Unfortunately, the program lost its funding so that was the last year of the program.  The executive director had seemed supportive, giving Lauren a strong evaluation and even writing her the recommendation she needed to get into the Education Administrator program at Lewis & Clark College.   But sadly, at the conclusion of that program she declined to give Lauren an employment recommendation, because of concern about this condition.  These many years after the stigma of mental illness had kept JoAnne from having custody of Lauren, Lauren in turn, found that mental illness remains a stumbling block due to societal myths and judgment.  Lauren longed to get to the root of this condition so that she could move on with her life.

[1] Defense of Marriage Act

[2]  Joy

Chapter 13: Tom

For years Lauren had struggled with anxiety disorder.  Western medicine threw drugs at it but never explored the underlying causes.  There were multiple times when we talked about what might help to resolve this debilitating condition, but it only grew worse with the passing years, and Lauren began having additional issues around anger management.  It seemed to me that at least a part of the problem had to do with the disparity between how Lauren viewed self, with how others treated her - still as the small petite “cute” girl.  Indeed, it seemed to me that these bouts of anxiety were at their worst when she tried the hardest to be what others expected her to be.

Over the first 16 years of our relationship, I observed 2 different entities struggle for supremacy. Lauren had tried to apply the lessons learned as a girl - be cute and sunny - but that image masked self-doubt and self-deprecation, resulting in the anxiety which at times was crippling.  The other persona has gone by several monikers - all male - Josh, Austin, Houston, Tom.  An athlete, a congenial rogue who loved the outdoors and was full of life.  It was this person who I met and was captivated by, even though he presented self as Lauren.

Originally this incongruity was revealed in play, but over time it became clear that this was an innate yearning rather than a sexual fantasy.  Repeatedly he felt trapped and stymied in jobs where she was expected to behave like the “little” woman she was; and when she asserted herself, would be labeled a strident bitch.  Obviously, this is not different from the misogyny that all women live with, in our patriarchal society; indeed, at the root of homophobia and transphobia is misogyny.  But in Lauren’s case it went deeper. She never measured up to the standards as set by other women - the nesting and niceties.  We used to joke among our lesbian friends that we had the most traditional “1950’s marriage” of any of our friends, gay or straight.  I’m the nurturer and she was the provider.  Deeper still, was comfort in her own skin.  For all the swagger that first night, so many years ago in those tight blue jeans, Lauren was never comfortable in the body that I worshipped.  And therein lies the difference between someone who experiences themself as a butch lesbian as opposed to a trans man.  While many female-bodied people have some level of discomfort, (due to being measured societally against standards of beauty few can attain), a masculine or androgynous lesbian still identifies with their female body. Someone who is transgender on the other hand, struggles with dysphoria.  Tom, as Lauren, had a strong, athletic beautiful body, but he couldn’t feel comfortable in it because it was in dissonance with who he knew himself to be.

After living as an out lesbian for more than 30 years, the call to reclaim the wisdom first voiced by a small child began whispering again, and even as she shared this still small voice with me over the years, she would push it down. Like the callings to Jonah and to Muhammed, at some point the whisper becomes a clarion that could not be outrun. As it became harder to ignore, she, like Moshe Rabbeinu[1] would say, "Why me?”

The late fall of 2008 was pivotal for each of us.  On Nov. 11th I wrote, “A blustery fall morning, as Lauren and Rose sleep.  It has been a full, eventful month since my last entry.  Lauren has entered an anger program to deal with the stress of work.  A lovely silver lining has been having our mornings at a slower, gentler pace.  ...  And I have started to see Zahavi for spiritual direction to work through the dichotomies of my life, the ongoing struggles between work and being a mom, while also trying to discern calling.

Instead of administrator vs mother, Echad[2].

Echad b’echad...One in the One

Opening to the earth mother I am, and to the goddess calling to me….trying to mother myself and Lauren with as much compassion as I mother Rose.

In addition to the anger management program, Lauren had entered spiritual direction with our rabbi.  Aryeh created a safe, holy space for Lauren to discern what that cause was, which had eluded her for years.  One evening, after a particularly deep discussion, Lauren came home and talked about what many people call “mothering” the child within themselves.   But the image that rang true for Lauren was the need to father a child that had wanted to be called “Tom Cowboy”.  It hadn’t felt safe to be that little boy then – but what if that boy had been allowed to flourish rather than conform to the images and rules set for petite little girls? The wishes and personification of that boy child had been subsumed by society (but never completely obliterated). There had been many times over the preceding 14 years, when my beloved would struggle with a desire to live as the man he envisioned, but each time we skirted the issue, she would step back, saying, “If only it was a different world”.  The thought of being perceived as even more ‘different’ or ‘weird’ than we already experienced as lesbians, felt more than she could bear.  One of the ways this was manifested in the earlier years was that JoAnne, who had been in so many ways the epitome of unconditional love, would worry aloud, each time she saw Lauren’s short hair, “You don’t want to be a boy do you?” Since this was the parent who had accepted Lauren completely when she first came out as lesbian, it felt scary that this was too far, even for JoAnne. And after JoAnne’s passing, the fear of losing her remaining parents, Sandra and Herman, persisted.

As it was the start of Thanksgiving week, which would be mostly a week of parent/teacher conferences, I asked Lauren, “What would happen if you just let yourself BE Tom, for this week.  No one else needs to know, but what if you knew, and could allow yourself to feel that energy for yourself?”  We both experienced HIM as being more grounded and happier to a degree than Lauren had ever experienced.  And then….. I ended up in the ER with appendicitis.  The funny thing was, here too, he was more present, more supportive and more grounded than Lauren had ever been able to be in any of my previous medical emergencies.  Tom took charge, making me feel safe and cared for; lining up help with meals and help around the house; being a much fuller expression of the person I loved.   We discovered that in fully being himself, he was able to bring that fully embodied self even more beautifully into relationship with me, and with our child.

The following week, I wrote, “This has been a week in particular of Hineni[3]…..After a month of Hineni - of being here - for Lauren.  Such a profound month as she began to finally explore….. to reclaim the little boy inside, and to come to terms with the little girl she was forced to be, even now. Being present to his/her truth and loving to both - or Echad - the One.  We are both on a journey of Hineni - of self discovery...Can I take this time to go in as deeply as Lauren has; to discern who/what my truest self needs/wants for Tikkun HaLev - repair of the heart?”

But we also discovered that how others perceive you is a hard reality to buck against.  In getting help for me, rather than being ‘a good wife’ making the meals and nursing me herself, as Sandra chided her, it reinforced how ‘she’ was supposed to behave in the world.  I realized that I, too, had made judgments over the years based on the woman I saw rather than the innate masculinity of his personhood.  In that same journal entry I admitted, “I realized in that moment, that whenever I’ve had frustrations and judgment of Lauren in our relationship, it was from this misconception (of her womanhood), when in reality, Tom is simply not wired to even think about, let alone, enjoy the so-called womanly arts of home and hearth.” Even though I had often quipped, “She’s such a boy,” I had put as many feminine expectations on him as did the rest of the world, about how he should navigate life.  It became clear to both of us, that, just as much as claiming one’s own truth by transitioning from perceived gender to experienced gender; it was equally about making congruent how others see and relate to you, with how you know yourself to be.

In hindsight, there had been numerous, subtle messages over the years. The experience, years earlier, in the car with Karen, of feeling large and powerful; on recollection, was a masculine self, trying to claim space. In looking back at past relationships, Lauren reflected on some of the power dynamics between herself and past partners. “I think some of my issues around abandonment were connected to whether I let my masculine side show or not.”  Reviewing old dream journals revealed how often in dreams issues tied to masculinity, and even experience of self, were as male.  In her 30’s, Lauren had gone to see a shaman, when medical and psychiatric measures were not proving fruitful.  In a meditative state, Lauren experienced herself as being in a pit that had a boulder tied down on top, and on the boulder, all of her parents. At that point she only knew she felt trapped.

What modern science now knows, is that our biological sex, and our gender are formed at different and multiple critical junctures in utero.  As an article written for the Netherlands Institute for Neuroscience explains, “During the intrauterine period the fetal brain develops in the male direction through a direct action of testosterone on the developing nerve cells, or in the female direction through the absence of this hormone surge. In this way, our gender identity (the conviction of belonging to the male or female gender) and sexual orientation are programmed into our brain structures when we are still in the womb. However, since sexual differentiation of the genitals takes place in the first two months of pregnancy and sexual differentiation of the brain starts in the second half of pregnancy, these two processes can be influenced independently, which may result in transsexuality.”  The timing and volume of these different surges (as noted in “Prenatal testosterone and gender-related behaviour”, by M. Hines at City University, London) means that “testosterone exposure during critical periods of early development produces permanent behavioural changes. In humans, affected behaviours include childhood play behaviour, sexual orientation, core gender identity and other characteristics that show sex differences (i.e. differ on average between males and females).”  So, we came to understand that, while Lauren’s parents and the rest of the world saw a physiological female, the brain and heart of this person was formed as male. Tom truly was incongruent with that perceived identity assigned to Lauren.

As much as I supported Lauren/Tom’s self-discovery, I had to come to terms with some of my own issues around my sexual and orientational history, as well as some worry about our future.  I wrote, “[in past relationships]....I settled for being needed, instead of passion.  ...Then I met this intensely hot dyke….lustful in a way that I had only known men to be, but tender, and interested in me!  Athletic, strong and suave, Lauren gives me the best of both worlds.  This masculine being is who I met and who captivated me.  The vulnerable, even fragile woman, …she came later.  And while I love her too, it is hard to be intimate with her.  I end up mothering ,,,yet she has never been able to mother me in return.  I’ve been with dykes and the energy and dynamic when I am with Houston/Austin/Josh/Tom (or whoever he wants to call himself) - is not the same.  In his arms I feel sexy, loved and desirable by a man, and can let go of all the lies and myths of my youth.  I am madly in love with my Husband.. Lauren or Tom, this is the person I love.  [Many people] - gay and straight - have always “mistaken” me as a heterosexual. And indeed, on more than one occasion “he” has been mistaken for my son.  ...But what does it mean for me to make love to a Lauren vs a Lorne?  Can my needs be met? Can I sacrifice the man who fulfills me OR the woman who needs & loves me?  Is it easier for he/she to pass in androgyny or for me to pass in bisexual anonymity?  My women friends and lovers have given me tenderness and companionship in a lonely world. But these men (within a woman’s body) have given me balance, passion and security to be myself..”   The other fear I had to contend with, was if he would emerge as a straight or gay man.  We observed that for some few folks who transition, that as their gender changed, sometime their orientation did as well, so that (for instance) a lesbian who transitioned to male would still be homosexual but now with an affectional desire for other male bodies.  At the end of the transition, would he still be attracted to me?  Ultimately, the decision I had to come to terms with, that frankly not all partners are able to get to, was this: this is the person I love, by any name; and welcoming his realized truth only strengthened our relationship, as it allowed him to bring his full self to that relationship.  Isn’t that what we all want for our beloved?

      Thus began a radical, freeing and life-affirming journey.  As November turned into mid-December, Tom/Lauren had a quick conversation with Aryeh, as Aryeh was preparing to head out of town for his son’s wedding in Mexico.  Aryeh wanted to know how Lauren was doing, after the busyness of my recovery from surgery (unaware of all that had been unfolding on this other level).  Lauren promised they would talk when Aryeh got back, but that there was exciting news.

A week later, I got a phone call late in the evening.  My friend Cassandra was on the other end of the line.  “Aryeh’s dead.”  What??! How could this be?  How could my mentor and Tom’s spiritual director - our rabbi - so full of life, be gone?  After his son’s wedding, he, his wife and their two small boys had gone snorkeling in the bay near their hotel.  When Beth and the boys tired, Aryeh encouraged them to head in, but he was having too much fun - blissed out with the beauty of ocean life.  We will never know exactly what happened, but he had somehow died amidst all that watery splendor.   His body was retrieved, but he could not be resuscitated.

With Aryeh’s passing, Lauren was temporarily set adrift but quickly found a therapist and support group to continue the discernment process (albeit in the midst of grief).  It did not take long for personal truth to reveal itself – my beloved needed to recognize himself as a transgender man and ultimately begin to tell those in his life.

As he approached his fiftieth birthday, he came to realize that he did not want to spend his elder years denying a call into the fullness of his being so stepped into his truth. He came to realize that the years of struggling with anxiety disorder and depression were the truth of calling screaming to be free; and he recognized that having lived 50 years as a woman made him the kind of man he wanted to embody for the rest of his life, a gentle man.

The first and most important person he needed to tell, we agreed, was Rose.  As it happened, the perfect opportunity presented itself one afternoon, as we watched an Oprah show on transgender parents.  At its conclusion, Lauren asked Rose, “What would you think if one of your parents came out as trans?”  At first Rose gasped, “It’s not Daddy, is it?!? I don’t think I could handle THREE mothers!”  Lauren replied, “No, I’m actually talking about me.”  Without skipping a beat, our precious and wise child said, “Oh!  Well, you’ve always been my dad.”  And with that, before anyone else even knew, Rose made the immediate mental switch, referring to my beloved with masculine pronouns, and the new name, Dad.  The next day, our young artist presented her dad with drawings of masculine clothes to suit “Tom Cowboy.”

That Mother’s Day, which would be Lauren’s last, I wrote, “My darling, even though you soon will not be a woman, I am so grateful I met and fell in love with a woman named Lauren.”

Slowly over the spring, Tom began to open up to friends, and delightfully, was met with loving support.  He approached his school district, and they concurred that the best thing was to move him to a new school in the fall, starting that year as a male teacher.  

May 20th of 2009 marked Tom’s official change in gender.  I wrote, “This is the day! This afternoon Tom received his first testosterone shot, making him officially a trans man.  This past week was something of a roller coaster as the immense magnitude of this decision moved from theory to reality….”  Tom had told probably some 20 friends and extended family - all but 3 were amazingly supportive.  But the 3 who had not been, had unsettled his resolve.  Ultimately, though, it was a good thing, as after each boomerang he returned to the reality that their objections spoke more about fear and the ways these individuals viewed Lauren - as opposed to accepting the challenge of knowing Tom.  He knew he could no longer keep forcing himself to conform to the images and expectations of others. In contrast, one cisgender[4]  heterosexual female friend of mine admitted she was relieved when Tom told her, saying, “I’ve had lots of lesbian friends and seen them as individuals and couples, but still as women.  I’ve always felt a little guilty because in my head I’ve always thought of you as husband and wife.”

The night before the first shot, we had to review and sign the consent forms, outlining all the real and possible effects and side effects - they were daunting and with a certain level of risk.  But as Tom put it, “I’d rather have 20 more good, happy years, than 30 miserable ones.”

The day of the shot was simple and straightforward.  And then, like a sign from above, we hadn’t even been out of the doctor’s office 5 minutes when Tom got the call from the school district, confirming both the HR and school district’s attorney of their support for Tom; wanting to know what school and grade he wanted in the coming year.  In that same journal entry I noted, “Truly this leap of faith is already opening life to new opportunities for a brighter future!”

In the days before that first shot, Tom realized that the one thing he was going to miss was Lauren’s beautiful soprano voice.  So on Memorial Day, we had our friends Jill and Marcia over to sing karaoke.  We recorded the evening’s vocals, so that we (and particularly Rose), would have a record of how Mama sounded. The same voice I had fallen in love with back in our choir days. It was with deep relief that we got to enjoy this, one more time, because the very next day the sore throat hit, which marked the beginning of his voice change.

 Almost as soon as the testosterone began flowing through his body, and long before outward physical changes were apparent, Tom experienced a remarkable sense of congruence.  I wrote, “...But even more profound has been the change in Tom’s relationship with his body.”  As a female, and in spite of an exquisitely beautiful and strong body, Lauren had never been comfortable being nude; always preferring to wear at least a muscle shirt and not wanting to expose the lower half of her body, even to me.  As much as she loved exploring my body, she found direct stimulation of her own nipples and clitoris to be more than she could tolerate at many times.  But Tom felt whole and complete in his own skin, in a way Lauren had not.  Over the years, it had become increasingly difficult in our sexual relationship, as it felt as if I could never satisfy her as completely as she did me.  She loved making love to me, and I became more and more frustrated that she did not receive the same enjoyment when I made love to her.

   The ultimate confirmation, as it were, came a few weeks before Tom’s 50th birthday.  As he was feeling more and more at peace through the balancing of hormones in his body, it hit me one night that I needed to begin to relate to his body as male.  I took a chance.  Instead of making love as we had for 14 years, as women, I made love to him as I had with previous male partners.   The experience for both of us was beyond anything we expected.  For the first time, in a very long time, my beloved climaxed and allowed pure delight to explode through his body.  He had come home to himself, as a man.  In the past, after lovemaking, Lauren would throw on underwear and didn’t want my hand to linger.  This night, Tom felt so content and at peace in his masculinity that we spent the whole night snuggled naked, with me in his arms, and my hand lovingly embracing his nascent cock.

As May turned into June, there were several hallmark experiences.  At the end-of-the-year picnic for the religious school, Tom had been talking with our friend Lynn, (who was the congregational president at the time), mentioning that he would have liked to have had an official way to honor/celebrate his transition in our faith community… if only Reb Aryeh z”l had been here to guide it.  Lynn suggested that Tom reach out to Rabbi Jeff Roth, who was to be the guest rabbi in June, to see if he was open to doing such a commemoration; it turned out he was very happy to do this.  So, the next task was to make the announcement to the congregation.  I sent the following letter to our congregation members:

“Dear Chevre[5],

 The events of this year have caused many of us to look deeply into our souls, discern our hearts' true desires and honor the life of our teacher by enlivening our own realities.  For some of us, this process began long before Reb Aryeh z”l left us – and with the support of his compassion and wisdom, we have embraced our shadow selves.

 For a select few, this discernment process brings us to the miraculous experience of birthing into being our highest, most authentic selves.

 And for one in particular, for my beloved, that has led to a journey of transformation of the most profound nature.

 Please join me in honoring this journey by witnessing and blessing Lauren at this coming Saturday’s service, when Reb Jeff Roth will call my beloved up to the Torah to receive not only a new name, but a new gender.

 Lauren (henceforth Tom) has wrestled with self and with G-d for a long time, and comes to this journey cautiously, prayerfully and ultimately joyfully.  Two weeks ago he began hormone therapy and over the course of this summer his outward appearance will come into harmony with his inner reality.  Tom and I, ask for this community’s prayers, support and love as he leaves behind the mitzrayim[6] of a constrained life, for the liberation of wholeness and integrity.

Tom has decided it is time to own and celebrate this new reality by claiming his masculine name; there seemed no more appropriate time to do so than when we are blessed by a gifted guest rabbi, on Gay Pride weekend, and days before Tom’s 50th birthday.  Please honor this passage by using his new name and gender reference (i.e. he, his, man - but not “transman”), and by blessing him, along with the blessing that Reb Jeff bestows on him at our upcoming Shabbat morning service.”

On June 13th, with the assistance of Rabbi Jeff Roth, my beloved claimed his new name and gender in front of our whole congregation – Tom Aaron Gevurtz.

Rabbi Jeff wove teachings from tradition, affirming Tom’s transition, into the whole service leading up to the moment when he called Tom up to the bima[7], first to open the Ark and then to carry the Torah in procession.  Then, after 2 congregational aliyot[8],  Tom Aharon was called up for a personal aliyah, where he shared the meaning of his name: 

My family and I are here today, because the P’nai Or community now feels like our true spiritual family, squabbles and all.  I am in awe of how we are being embraced by more of you every day!

 As I transition from being female to male, I’ve chosen Tom as my first name.  The Hebrew meaning of pure and innocent, honors my 5-year-old self who began identifying as Tom Cowboy 45 years ago.  The Aramaic meaning of whole and complete, expresses how I feel as I align my outer appearance and behavior with my inner male energy and centeredness.

 My middle name will be Aharon or Aaron as in Moses’ brother, the First High Priest.  I chose a name that started with an “A” in memory of our beloved Reb Aryeh.  Aharon means teacher, singer, shining and mountain. These are some of my gifts and qualities that I most value, and especially precious for me to honor, because Reb Aryeh exemplified these qualities.

More than a year ago, I asked Reb Aryeh to begin a journey with me to discover the deeply hidden roots of my 18-year-old anxiety disorder and even older mystical DEMANDS to be small, constrained and powerless.  Aryeh became the rabbi of my heart as we traveled through the pain that was revealed and the joy of opening to possibility.  Our work allowed me to hear my beloved’s insights that the roots could be entwined with my desire to live as Tom, not Lauren nor Lauren Anne.

 Since beginning to transition in November, I find myself happier, more grounded and more able to give to my family and students the gifts that I bring to this planet.

 Thank you from my heart, for blessing me and my family on this journey of self-discovery and peace.”

 After the Torah reading, Reb Jeff led Tom in a special blessing, crafted originally by Rabbi Elliot Kukla for such occasions:

Baruch Ata Adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha’Olam Ha’Mavir L’Ovrim

Blessed are You, Eternal One, our God, Ruler of Time and Space, the Transforming

One to those who transform/transition/cross over

Then:

Baruch Ata Adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha’Olam sh’asani b’tzelmo

Blessed are You, Eternal One, our God Ruler of Time and Space who has made me

in God’s image

Adding:

Baruch Ata Adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha’Olam Sh’hechianu, v’kimanu, v’ higiyanu,

la’zman hazeh

Blessed are You, Eternal One, our God Ruler of Time and Space who has kept us alive

and sustained us and helped us to arrive at this moment

Reb Jeff then invited the community to share their blessings with Tom.  We were overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and respect when dozens of thoughtful prayers were showered upon him by young and old, male and female, friends and newcomers alike.  Our friend Peter honored this journey reminding Tom to not lose the ability, as a man, to connect with his feminine side, calling Tom “brother”.  Our friend (and cantor) Bruce, celebrated Tom as a teacher/leader to us all, and kvelled in hopes that Tom’s new male voice would join the choir.  Betty, our elder (now of blessed memory) honored Tom as a leader for each of us to call forth our own areas of transformation.  But the person who blew everyone away was our own daughter, who celebrated the man who had always been her dad.  Rose’s blessing was mature, loving and wholly supportive of her new dad.  After the service, Aryeh’s widow, Beth, told Tom, “There are times when I can still feel his presence – you need to know he was sitting next to me as you took your name, and he was absolutely delighted!”

The power of that day was such as to give Tom the strength to finally tell, first his siblings and then Sandra and Herman.  Kim responded first, affirming her love for her sibling, regardless of his gender.  She responded by email almost immediately, “Lauren darling, It’s the inside stuff that makes a human being worthy of respect and love, not the outside packaging.  You will always have my respect and love, as a friend and sister.  If your response and society’s responses to the outside packaging causes so much internal pain, then the logical step is to adjust that packaging for yourself. ...  I believe that acceptance needs to come first from yourself and then those closest to you.  I applaud you for the work you have done as a person.  That is as courageous as your decision to outwardly change from female to male.  I support your decision.  I would like to hear why you think this transformation will change the internal voices that demand you feel small, constrained and powerless.  So as not to catch you unawares, I thought I would send this email first and call you later this afternoon.  ….Love you lots, male or female.” She, of course, had questions and came over for dinner - to probe, ask, push and ultimately accept this truth.  During dinner, Andrew also called, reiterating his devotion.

And then it was time to tell his remaining active parents, Sandra and Herman. (Larry, while living, was still estranged from us.)

      At this juncture I’ll share an excerpt in his own words, from Tom’s letter to his mom:

      “For over 18 years, I’ve been living with anxiety disorder.  For much longer, I’ve struggled against deep, internal voices demanding that I be small, constrained and powerless. More than a year ago, I asked Reb Aryeh to begin a journey with me to discover the deeply hidden roots of these debilitating challenges.  ... Our work allowed me to hear my beloved’s insights that the roots could be entwined with my gender identity. (Rivka and I have been privately discussing my conflicted feelings about my gender all these years, but I’ve always stopped the conversation before – usually due to the overwhelming fear of displeasing, upsetting and ultimately losing you.)  Since then, I’ve been receiving professional individual therapy, attending two support groups, reading up on the latest research, and allowing myself to explore my male energy.

 As I explore life as a male, we’ve discovered that I’m more grounded and centered, more able to give of myself to family and my students, and ultimately, filled with a sense of freedom, expansiveness and happiness.  Due to this deep, careful, self-examination and years of trying to be someone I’m not, I’ve come to realize that it is time for me to align my outer appearance and behavior, with my inner male energy and sense of self.”

      Tom had suggested Sandra sit with the letter a few days, and if need be, to debrief with Kim before talking.  She, like Kim, had loads of questions.  She and Tom talked so long he completely missed a therapy appointment.  But all was done so in respect, love and -miraculously - acceptance.  As noted earlier, fear of losing her had been one of the highest hurdles on this journey.  After sending the letter above, we had to almost laugh – at the ‘non-issue’ we had fretted over for 15 years.  She, like almost everyone else, continues to love and support this magnificent soul. And it was also further evidence for us as to how much the hearts and minds, not only of our family, but of society in general had grown in kindness and acceptance of those whose orientation or gender differed from the status quo. 

      This was made abundantly clear, in Tom and Herman’s relationship.  Herman’s initial response was one of simple equanimity, quipping only that he would have to change his will and powers of attorney to reflect Tom’s new identity.  But over time, a preciousness transformed their relationship.  Just as our first wedding had probably been the first time Herman realized that Lauren really did see him as a parent, this transition gave Herman the gift of a son.  He got to be Tom’s dad in a way Larry never would be; and their conversations grew deeper and more loving than they had ever been.

      Later that month, Tom’s 50th birthday party truly marked a rebirth.  I had planned a special havdalah service[9].  I framed Tom’s transition in the same context as the distinction between Shabbat and Secular time - the specialness of each part of his life, before and after.  I asked each person to bestow on Tom two blessings; one to honor the 49 years that Lauren graced this life and one to honor the new life that Tom was claiming. 

      The most profound blessing given was by Sandra.   Her blessing began, “I’m the only person here today who knew Tom Cowboy….” And then she shared precious memories of a little boy who loved to play cowboy and Indians, sheriffs and bandits; patrolling the veranda on his trike.  While Lauren Anne did have a doll, Tom Cowboy named it Billy Boy and never dressed it up in frills – rather dragged it along by the heel, naked.  Honoring Tom for (in Frost’s words) taking the road less travelled.   It was so very healing for Tom to have these memories shared and celebrated; to be seen, finally, as the boy and man he had always been.

In all, through the comings out of that summer, and the tellings to hundreds of congregants, family members, friends and colleagues, there were only the 3 people who rejected his identity.  Two were lesbian friends and one was a straight woman, but the words from each spoke to the same theme; they were unwilling or unable to allow this man to replace their female friend.  And of these 3, only one has continued to be out of his life.   It took the others each their own time to come to some level of acceptance.  But what we learned is that those rejections spoke more to what these women needed than to who Tom was, in his innate personhood.

It is not to say that there has been no prejudice.  While the district was supportive of Tom and his transition, his first principal at his new school was none too happy about having a potentially controversial teacher on her staff.  In truth, most of the teaching staff and all of the families took him at face value - this was simply Mr. Gevurtz. But to try to force him out, the principal placed him in the one grade he had never taught - kindergarten - after having been assured he would be in one of his usual 3rd or 4th grade classes.  There were some teachers (who she influenced) who could be unkind, adding to the pressure in the early years, but most of their prejudice was expressed out of his ear shot.  Thankfully, peers who were becoming his friends would nip such talk in the bud.  The principal tried to micromanage and pressure him, but in the end, it was she who left.  Even during the worst times, I reflected, “... as challenging as that all is, life for Tom is so much more grounded. He continues to be happier in his own skin than ever.”

In counterpoint, families eagerly anticipated younger siblings joining his class when they entered kindergarten.  And when he was moved to 3rd grade (his favorite), families lobbied to have him again. In the years since, those colleagues who were prejudiced have either grown or moved on.  By the time he left that school, he had taught more than a 3rd of the students in what was one of the largest and most diverse in the district; he couldn’t walk down the hall without shouts of, “Hi Mr. Gevurtz!” or kids running up for a hug. 

[1] Moses, our Teacher

[2] The Hebrew word for one, not only as a numeral but as in being At One with all that is.

[3] When the Divine called out to Adam, Abraham, and Moses, their reply was, Hineni; "Here I am".

[4] Cis-gender means her perceived gender is congruent with her experienced gender, as in consistent.

[5] Hebrew for Friends

[6] In Hebrew, mitzrayim is the word used for Egypt, but is also used for its root meaning, which is a narrow place.  It can refer to any place of constriction, but also alludes to that space of birth and metaphorical rebirth.

[7] The raised platform, which in a Christian setting holds the altar, but in Jewish congregations holds the Ark and lecterns.

[8] Aliyah (or aliyot in plural) is an honor in Jewish tradition for people to mark special moments in their lives, by witnessing the reading of the Torah portion.

[9] Which marks the transition from Shabbat back into regular time

• Update #1 - My first book has launched! Love, By Any Name Jan. 20, 2026

  Friends, thank you to those who have been among the first to pre-order my new book.  I'm excited to share that we already have one …

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