Coming Out of Your Closet, Even if It's Not Rainbow-Colored

Ash Beckham is a lesbian and an LGBTQ-rights advocate.  In September, she presented at a TED talk in Boulder, Colorado on the topic of "Coming Out of Your Closet." (note: one inadvertently PG-rated image appears at 9:37, but it's significant to the context of the talk)

The idea of "coming out of the closet" is usually spoken of in the context of the LGBTQ community.  But as Beckham points out, the metaphor is apt for any of us who are keeping a secret, who are sitting on information that they may be concerned about sharing with others.

Beckham cautions against drawing comparisons between the challenges we face and the challenges others face.  For instance, some may fear having a conversation about being in financial distress; others might be nervous about a medical diagnosis.  "Hard is not relative," Beckham notes, "hard is hard."  Yet we can commiserate on the fact that we all, at one point or another in our lives, have experienced "hard," and we can all appreciate that, whatever our personal closets may look like, "a closet is no place for a person to truly live."

In the Torah portion for this Shabbat, Parashat VaYigash, we find that Joseph has been living in his own closet.  Having risen to second-in-command of Egypt, he has put aside the attire of his youth, and many of the customs as well, adapting to the Egyptian way of life.  In so doing, he has become virtually unrecognizable to his brothers.  Now, as he reveals himself to them, they are dumbfounded, and Joseph himself is so emotionally overcome that he weeps loudly and uncontrollably.

In next week's portion, Parashat VaYechi, Joseph will be reunited with his father, Jacob.  Jacob exclaims, ראה פניך לא פללתי ra'oh panecha lo pallalti- "I did not ever dream that I would see your face [again]."  The early 20th century satirist Gerson Rosenzweig opined that this was not only because Jacob had become convinced that Joseph was dead, but also because even once it was revealed that Joseph was alive in Egypt, Jacob was certain that Joseph would be unrecognizable in his Egyptian costume.  The masks we wear can sometimes obscure our true selves.

Yet Joseph has had the courage to "come out of his closet"- to end the charade and reconcile with his brothers for the sake of the family and its future survival.  And perhaps what we can learn- from Joseph and from Ash Beckham- is that as daunting and frightening as it may seem, it is better to open that door and take a step outside than it is to cower in the darkness.

Beckham offers three rules for having the difficult conversations that can take us out of our closets:
1. Be authentic- certainly Joseph succeeds here.  He lays his emotions bare, so much so that "his sobs were so loud that all the Egyptians could hear."
2. Be direct- again, Joseph has got it covered.  "I am Joseph," he proclaims, "Is our father still living?"
3. Be unapologetic- in reuniting with his brothers, Joseph extends a hand in peace, telling them that they need not feel ashamed or sorrowful for selling him into slavery, since it all ended up working out positively.  But never does he apologize for who he was as a youth- or for all the times he bugged and pestered them- which made them hatch the plot in the first place.  Beckham opines that it is actually OK to apologize for what we've done, but that people should never feel forced to apologize for who they are.

So how about it?  Can we learn from Beckham's and Joseph's examples?  Can we find the courage to emerge from the closets- whatever shape or color they may be- that have been concealing our true selves?

There Are No Strangers Here, Only Friends Who Have Not Yet Met

Greetings, all.  It has been quite a while since I last posted.  I'm going to try to get more consistent with my posting.

I have, in the past few years, started giving my sermons in a fairly extemporaneous fashion.  I like the feeling of having a few notes, but otherwise "working without a net" and seeing where my mood takes me.  One difficulty with this style, however, is that if someone likes a particular message and asks me for a copy, I'm unable to oblige them.  So, I've gotten this idea of writing blog posts based on my sermon notes.  They may express the same ideas as my sermons, or they may veer off into completely different territory.  Hopefully the experiment will work...


The title above comes from a quote that has made its way around the internet.  As is the case with many  an internet quote, its exact provenance is unclear.  You will find a number of people who claim that it is from William Butler Yeats, but I've found no trustworthy corroboration of that attribution.  I first recall reading it on the wall of an Irish pub called Tommy Nevins in Evanston, Illinois (where I didn't personally find it to hold true, so I never returned...)  It reminds me of a lyric from the original Muppet Movie, in which Gonzo declares, "There's not a word yet/ for old friends who just met."

I've been thinking about the distinctions that we draw between friends, strangers, and family as I've studied this week's Torah portion, Parashat Toldot.  It tells the story of Isaac, Rebekah, and their two sons, Jacob and Esau.  From the moment of their gestation, we read, the boys are at odds with one another; once they are born, their parents only exacerbate matters by playing favorites.

Before the portion has concluded, familial relations will be strained.  Rebekah effectively disowns Esau, Esau swears to kill Jacob if he ever again lays eyes on him, and Jacob feels compelled to flee his home.  It's not exactly a picture of a functional family dynamic.

But sometimes, family is not comprised of those who are bound to us by blood or marriage; sometimes we construct family beyond those conventional confines.  We may have friends whom we embrace as our closest confidants, with whom we feel as comfortable (if not more comfortable) as with our biological family.

Photographer Richard Renaldi has begun a project he calls "Touching Strangers"(see more of the photographer's work here).  It is based on a simple concept: Renaldi stops strangers on the street and asks them to pose with one another as though they knew each other intimately.  At first, some of the subjects appear standoffish.  Eventually, the presence of Renaldi and his large-format camera helps to disarm them, and the images are a striking look at how we can interact with one another on a human level if we are willing to let down our guard.  I do not own or claim any rights to the images below, but I post them here for illustrative purposes:

 

These photos help to drive home for me that, truly, "There are no strangers here, only friends who have not yet met."  Whether Yeats said it or whether it's the fabrication of some anonymous blogger or bartender, the statement still resonates.

There is a rabbinic principle: sever panim yafot.  Most literally translated, it means "Put on a happy face."  But idiomatically, it can be taken to refer to the value of treating everyone with dignity and kindness.  When we work toward this goal, the sharp distinctions between friends and strangers begin to fade, and we better see ourselves as part of one human family.