Rainbow connection

One Sunday morning about five years ago, Jim Schmeltzer had a life-changing epiphany: Waking up in his Boystown apartment, he heard the bells—the heralding chimes of early-morning services at nearby Broadway United Methodist Church (3344 N Broadway, 773-348-2679, brdwyumc.org). Whether on a whim or answering a higher calling, the outcome was the same: He made a snap decision to attend.

OM AT LAST Nick Boutros found peace in meditation at the Shambhala Meditation Center’s Queer Dharma event.

Photo: Michael Jarecki

Schmeltzer looked over at his half-asleep boyfriend and asked him if he’d like to come along. “He said, ‘No, I’ll stay here and lie in bed.’ So he did, and I went,” recalls the 40-year-old Web designer. What he discovered was an explicitly gay-affirming atmosphere. He noticed other gays and lesbians in the pews, and the call to worship included a specific welcome to all people, gay and straight, black and white, rich and poor.

An ebullient Schmeltzer returned home and convinced his partner to attend with him the next week. Although they ultimately did some “church shopping,” nothing else clicked in the same way. One church, Schmeltzer notes, claimed it was gay-friendly, but other congregants stared when he and his partner held hands. The pair happily became members at Broadway United Methodist, where they celebrated their commitment ceremony in April 2006.

Schmeltzer’s story of finding religion late in life is not an uncommon one for LGBT Americans. Born in Ohio and raised Catholic, he felt alienated from his parents’ church because of his sexuality. Marriage to a woman at age 24 and membership in a Presbyterian parish didn’t work; he ultimately came out, divorced and moved to the big city to explore his new life. Like so many other queer folk, he met his partner in a bar, but Schmeltzer still felt something missing from his life until he found a spiritual home that affirmed all elements of his identity. “I’d never been to such an open place,” he says. “It’s very freeing.”

That gays and lesbians should be such active seekers is no surprise. “Queer people have had to work hard to accept and claim their identity in a way that a lot of other people don’t,” says the Rev. Jen Rude. Openly lesbian, the 27-year-old was ordained just last month as associate pastor at Resurrection Lutheran Church (3309 N Seminary Ave, 773-525-0605, rlclakeview.org) in West Lakeview. “Often GLBTQ [gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and questioning] folks have an even stronger sense of spirituality because they’ve had to work hard to maintain that spirituality in the face of organized religions’ betrayal.”

Such betrayals happen all the time, from any number of faiths. Born into the Roman Catholic tradition, Yehuda Jacobi attended Catholic seminary for five years. When he first came out to his adviser, the news was greeted with acceptance and a caveat: to think more about it. Months later, when Jacobi reaffirmed his gayness, the adviser told him he would “lead a sad and lonely, destructive life.” Jacobi left the seminary, eventually exploring more liberal Christian denominations until his path led him into Judaism. Jacobi’s partner of 15 years is Jewish, though at the time they met, his partner had lost some of his enthusiasm for his religious heritage.

Already having briefly studied the Kabbalah, a mystic branch of Judaism, Jacobi interpreted his blossoming relationship with a nice Jewish boy as a further sign. “I said, ‘Introduce me. Tell me what this faith is about,’ ” Jacobi recalls. “And he did. Little by little, he showed me the culture, he showed me the traditions, he showed me the language.” Eventually Jacobi converted; he now refers to himself as a “spiritual Jew.”

Jacobi and his partner are longtime members of Or Chadash (5959 N Sheridan Rd, 773-271-2148, orchadash.org), an LGBT-centric synagogue in Edgewater that was founded in 1975. “This is where we felt we could be most ourselves,” he says. “There has been a trend with other congregations in recent years to welcome gays and lesbians. But Or Chadash is the first and the original.” The couple travel two or three times a month from their Glenview home into the city for Friday-night Shabbat services.