from the Northern California Jewish Bulletin, January 17, 2003, written by Janet Silver Ghent of the Bulletin Staff:

     Robert Swirsky of Sunnyvale has been in a committed relationship for 13 years and points with pride to his typically suburban lifestyle, which includes attending synagogue each Friday night at Congregation Beth Am. That his partner happens to be a man raised few eyebrows at Beth Am, where Swirsky said his own biggest adjustment was getting used to "guitar-strumming rabbis."
     Antoinette Rose of Palo Alto grew up in a family that was "Puritan French on one side and aristocratic French on the other." On both sides, "they were appalled at my coming out as Jewish and as a lesbian." But for Rose, "in both cases, I felt I was coming home."
     Lisa Rauchwerger of San Jose, who grew up in the South Bay's Jewish community, had no such difficulty coming out to her family. But for years, she was in a relationship with a female Conservative rabbinical student and later rabbi, and she felt compelled to give outsiders the impression that they were "only roommates."
     "Those were lonely years for me," said Rauchwerger, speaking before an audience of about 550 Friday night at Beth Am in Los Altos Hills.
    Cutting through the loneliness and offering sanctuary to people of all orientations is part of the mission of Beth Am, which means "house of the people," according to Rabbi Janet Marder, who led the service. It is also the aim of its gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender outreach group, Kulanu, which means "all of us," and participants need not be synagogue members.
     Friday night Kulanu held its fourth annual Shabbat service, followed by the personal stories of Swirsky, Rose and Rauchwerger.
     Kulanu was started about five years ago by families of gays and lesbians who were seeking support, said coordinator Nancy Fernbach. Today Kulanu "has evolved into a much greater group as gays and lesbians have been welcomed into the synagogue," Fernbach added. In fact, the majority of Kulanu's 30 to 35 regular members are in the LGBT community.
     For Swirsky, a Brooklyn-born special-effects and theme-park designer, attending a suburban synagogue whose members are largely heterosexual has never been a problem. He's almost always at Friday night services with his partner, Steven Warner, who is currently taking classes with an eye toward conversion. "He's on the path," said Swirsky.    
     

     "I would feel uncomfortable in a gay synagogue," Swirsky said before the service. "I like the fact that gay couples truly are like any other in a Reform congregation like Beth Am. There's no need for segregation at Beth Am."
      But his wish to be "part of ordinary suburban life" separated him from the gay community, he said in his talk. "What passed for gay culture wasn't interesting to me."     
     Returning to Judaism was a coming out of sorts for Swirsky. Although he "never hid" his Judaism, he hadn't affirmed it since his Hillel days. But when he attended Beth Am's Kol Nidre service in 2000, the tears began streaming down his face. He soon joined the synagogue.
     Rose, an internist who converted to Judaism, said she and her partner, Dey Ehrlich Rose, had been members of Congregation Sha'ar Zahav in San Francisco. But after having a son and a daughter together, getting to the city for services became problematic. They joined Beth Am six months ago.
     "I hope [our children] will be seen as something other than the children of a lesbian home -- that they will be celebrated, not just tolerated," Rose said.
     For Rauchwerger, becoming part of the synagogue community was not a difficult move. The free-lance author, artist and graphic designer is the daughter of the congregation's librarian, Diane Rauchwerger.
     Nor was coming out difficult. "My mother surprised me by guessing my secret 11 years ago."
     What was excruciatingly difficult was being the partner of a Conservative rabbinical student who could not reveal the nature of their relationship for fear of being expelled. "We hid our love, pretending to be only roommates," she said. "I had to watch my step."
     Later, when her partner became a congregational rabbi in Cleveland, things became increasingly problematic. Eventually, they became just roommates and later parted, remaining friends. About to return to the West Coast, Rauchwerger met Kaila Schwartz -- "my beshert" or destined partner -- at a gay-oriented synagogue in Cleveland. Returning to the Bay Area, they registered as domestic partners last summer during San Francisco Pride celebrations.
     A week or so ago, they discussed plans for a wedding and possible children with Schwartz's family. "It will take them some time to get used to the idea, but the important thing is that we started the conversation," Rauchwerger said.
     In a postscript, she announced that her former partner, the rabbi in Cleveland, came out to her congregation, which was completely supportive.

The Door of Our Synagogue

May the door to this synagogue be wide enough to receive
All who are in need of love, all who are lonely for friendship.

May it welcome all who have cares to unburden,
Thanks to express, hopes to nurture

May the door of this synagogue be narrow enough
To shut out pettiness and pride, envy and enmity.

May its threshold be too high
To admit complacency, selfishness, and harshness

Yet may it be no stumbling block
To young or uncertain feet.

May we make this synagogue, for all who enter,
The doorway to an enriched and more meaningful life.

Meditation before Kaddish

Sister that I never held near
Comrade that I never embraced
Your memory is almost lost:
     The one we don't talk about.
     The loving one who never married.
     The one for whom no Kaddish is said.
Your loneliness calls out to me:
I know of your struggles; we are not strangers,
And if my path is easier, I will not forget
     who walked it first.

We call you to mind, but did you not sometimes think of us;
Your children, lovers across the years.
Those who would follow and would think of you
And bless your memory, and call you to mind.

With David and Jonathan, we will not forget you,
With Ruth and Naomi, we will not forget you,
In the name of God you are our sisters and our brothers,
And we ask that you be remembered 
     for peace

 from the High Holy Day yizkor service of 
Congregation Sha'ar Zahav, San Francisco, California