I'm a rabbi whose marriage isn't, strictly speaking, kosher. That is to say, we didn't marry according to standard understandings of Jewish law.
On purpose. It could be argued that one key part of the Jewish wedding ceremony involves the formal acquisition of the bride (or possibly "just" exclusive rights to her sexuality) by the groom. And I didn't really want to get bought by anyone—not even by my partner.
Certainly, it's complicated. There are myriad interpretations of any Jewish text, and many people argue that during the betrothal ceremony—known as kiddushin, nowadays part of the wedding itself—the groom is only acquiring his obligations to the bride, not the actual woman. But I, and plenty of scholars along with me, think that's a pretty hard sell. The original second-century text draws parallels between the acquisition of a woman through marriage to the acquisition of slaves, animals, property, and land. And even understood in the most optimistic possible way, kiddushin is still a gendered ceremony with a heavy power dynamic that favors the husband.
For some people, that's fine—this is, after all, how Jewish law has staked out matrimony for the entire history of the religion. But others are not as enthusiastic about sanctifying their love in a way that would, both symbolically and legally, enshrine a non-egalitarian dynamic. Shouldn't ritual—and Jewish law—reflect our highest aspirations for our relationships on the ground?
To further complicate matters, kiddushin is a transaction between a woman and a man—so for Jewish same-sex couples looking to wed, the classic marriage model is not even available.
So, then what? What do you do you're getting married, but you don't want to—or can't—get married using traditional kiddushin? And what do you do if you're committed enough to the Jewish tradition that the legal framework in which it exists matters to you?
For those who believe, as I do, that rituals do things, there's a certain alchemy to the fact that a dunk in the ritual bath can transform a non-Jew into a Jew, that lighting two candles can, palpably and viscerally, bring in the Sabbath. There's a certain danger to mucking around with the source code, with the ways in which a religious tradition has been refined over hundreds or even thousands of years to bring us as close as possible to the sacred. Taking ritual alchemy seriously means that it might not work to slap any old thing together in place of these ancient mechanisms for binding two people to each other. And taking LGBT relationships seriously means finding a way for same-sex nuptials to have the same heft and substance that we assume straight weddings to have.
Fortunately, a few possibilities have emerged over the last 20 or so years that address the twin problems of feminist and queer weddings simultaneously, with varying degrees of dialogue with Jewish law. One way to sacralize the values of equality and egalitarianism is to make sure that weddings don’t require any particular gender to perform specific symbolic roles. (Of course, there are a wide range of gendered customs embedded in the traditional Jewish ceremony, so any couple who chooses to have the bride circle the groom or the butch cover the femme’s face with a veil has those resources available.)
Some of the ceremonies that feminist and queer Jews have been using in place of traditional kiddushin involve a declaration of commitment in the form of a formal oath to God. Rachel Adler, in her landmark book Engendering Judaism, looked to the laws surrounding business partnerships to create a ceremony in which two lovers bind themselves together, legally, as partners. Some people argue that both parties can acquire one another, so it’s an egalitarian, bilateral exchange. Another approach—my personal favorite—looks to a loophole in the Talmud to suggest that there’s a way, coherent within Jewish law, for a couple to get married “in the manner of kiddushin,” without actually invoking kiddushin and its acquisition—so it doesn’t require heterosexual partners, or the husband’s permission to divorce.