Rabbi Michael Latz is tired. Bags under his eyes attest to late nights spent caring for his 10-month-old daughter, Noah, a blonde-headed girl with glowing blue eyes and an endless supply of energy. The 18 or so University students who have gathered over Chinese food to hear him speak are warned that Latz is running on Noah’s time, and that he’ll probably have to cut out early to put her to bed.
Latz balances his many roles as gracefully as possible. He manages to keep one eye on the rambunctious infant while answering students’ questions. In addition to managing a household of three children, two dogs, one cat and a fish “that just died, thank God,” Latz is the rabbi and founder of Kol HaNeshamah, a progressive synagogue community in west Seattle. He’s also gay.
Latz traveled from Seattle to lead Shabbat, or Sabbath, services at the Hillel on Friday night. On Saturday night, he sat down to discuss his experiences as a rabbi and as a father in his community after Havdalah, a ritual marking the end of Shabbat, was performed.
He spoke about the community he leads in west Seattle and its philosophy of inclusiveness.
“My philosophy is that when you walk in the synagogue you shouldn’t have to check your identity at the door,” he said.
Senior JulieAnn Steinberger, who self-identifies as queer, helped coordinate Latz’s visit. She said “historically, religion has been such a core of conflict in terms of sexuality” and added that Latz’s visit was part of Hillel’s effort to reach out to the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer community.
“It’s important in this modern time to connect people’s religion and their sexuality,”
she said.
Latz said the Jewish community has been
notably progressive in its acceptance
of homosexuals.
“Reform Judaism has long been at the forefront of accepting homosexuals,” he said.
In the 1990s, rabbinical seminaries began accepting gays and lesbians, and in 2002, a seminary accepted its first transgender student. Rabbis have also sanctioned gay and lesbian marriages.
But Kol HaNeshamah’s inclusiveness extends far beyond sexual identity.
“We are gay inclusive and gay friendly, but I had no desire to be ‘the gay rabbi,’” he said. Kol HaNeshamah is a new, small congregation of about 70 families, and most members know one another in the tight-knit community. Latz said it has a notable number of single parents, mixed couples (couples with one non-Jewish partner), transgender couples and survivors of domestic violence.
Another distinctive aspect of Kol
HaNeshamah, Latz said, is it requires a high
level of participation.
“I don’t pussyfoot around and assume that every person that walks in is broken,” he said. Congregants are typically asked to participate in different synagogue activities, whether it be serving on a committee or helping with music.
Graduate student Jordan Holtz is a former member of Latz’s congregation and also helped coordinate his visit. Holtz said Latz requires a lot from his members.
“It’s not just drop-by Judaism,” he said. “You’re going to be asked to be an active part of the community.”
Latz said he encountered resistance as a gay rabbi in the first synagogue he worked at. One board member raised a complaint about him kissing his partner during services.
“I told him I’d stop kissing my partner when he’d stop kissing his wife,” he said. “That ended that conversation pretty quickly.”
Latz also spoke of references to homosexuality in the Torah, saying while homosexuality is implicitly prohibited, the authors of the Torah wrote the laws in a different historical context.
“There are still laws on the books that don’t apply today,” he said, noting that American secular laws often remain intact long after they are outdated.
Latz added that “every generation has a part of the Torah revealed to it.”
“I think the Torah that’s revealed to us is that we’re diverse,” he said.

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