By Rebecca Shalomoff
In an interview, David tells of how he tried to change his homosexuality for more than a decade. To escape the urge to be with another man, rabbis advised him to eat figs, flick a rubber band around his wrist and bite his tongue.
Like so many of the tormented individuals profiled in Trembling Before G-d, David struggles to reconcile his love of Judaism with the Biblical prohibitions that forbid homosexuality.
Since the film's completion in 2000, director/producer DuBowski has been traveling the globe, winning prizes at film festivals and engaging viewers in discussions about faith, sexuality and religious beliefs.
I feel like the film starts when the credits roll and the lights go on, he says.
Local synagogues have joined DuBowski's mission to raise awareness about the hidden lives of Orthodox and Hasidic gay men and women. Congregation Beth Sholom in Lawrence, Jewish Center of Atlantic Beach and Young Israel in Woodmere, recently hosted a screening/discussion of the film at the Malverne Cinema.
I think it's an important issue to discuss, namely how we deal with people who are struggling with this very difficult dilemma, says Rabbi Kenneth Hain, spiritual leader of Congregation Beth Sholom, who contacted DuBowski about co-sponsoring a discussion of the film. I thought it could be helpful in helping us help them.
The feature documentary has sparked live debates in many religious circles. Its impact has been far-reaching igniting discussions inside and outside cinemas, in classrooms, homes and from pulpits.
These intimate portraits of men and women who struggle to feel accepted by their religion, family and most importantly, within themselves, appeal to anyone who has ever felt like an outsider.
Trembling Before G-d raises questions of identity and belonging, but neither the film nor its filmmaker offer any easy answers.
People will walk away from this film maybe even more confused, DuBowski says.
DuBowski, who is 31 and a Harvard graduate, says he wants to create a dialogue with this film and open people's minds.
The theatrical film began as an exploratory video-diary sparked by meeting Orthodox Jews who were thrown out of yeshivas for homosexual activity, he says. It turned into a five-year project of locating people across the United States, England and Israel who were willing to be interviewed.
DuBowski, who grew up in a Conservative Jewish home in Brooklyn, focused on the struggles of Orthodox and Hasidic homosexuals because their worlds have few, if any, resources for people to turn to.
While the United States and other nations have witnessed an incredible advancement in lesbian and gay civil rights and visibility, Orthodox and Hasidic communities have been largely opposed to homosexuality viewed as anything other than sin or sickness, he says.
Mark, another interview subject, is from an ultra-Orthodox family in London. He was kicked out of numerous yeshivas in England and Israel for homosexual activity.
Devorah, an ultra-Orthodox lesbian in Israel, is falling apart after being married for nearly 20 years and having numerous children and grandchildren. Filmed in silhouette with her voice changed, she talks about her struggle whether she should tell her husband about her sexuality, her desire to find a girlfriend and her inability to go on.
Michelle is a lesbian who grew up Hasidic in Boro Park, Brooklyn. Daughter of a world-renowned cantor, she was disowned seven years ago and has barely seen the rest of her family since.
But the film has been criticized for failing to show people who overcame homosexual tendencies, proving that change is possible.
In a letter to the editor of the Jerusalem Post, where a scathing review blasts the film for neglecting to suggest that conversion therapy was a viable option, Orthodox mental health professionals, Abba Borowich and Naomi Mark (who is featured in the film), write, The fact that there are no long-term follow-up studies that confirm the
