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Sasha Rogelberg | Staff Writer
W ith a name like Chaim Levin, it’s nearly impossible not to be
associated with a Jewish identity.

For the Levin in question, a 33-year-old living in Point
Breeze, the Jewishness that accompanied his name wasn’t always
welcomed. Levin was raised in an Orthodox community in Crown Heights,
Brooklyn, to a family that instilled in him the value of survival: His mater-
nal grandmother survived the Holocaust, with most of her family killed
by Nazis; his father’s parents fled communist Russia.

“We’re a people of survival,” Levin said. “That has kind of passed on
to me. It might look different, but I had to survive some pretty difficult
things to be alive, to be where I am today.”
Levin came out as gay to an Orthodox community that didn’t talk
about homosexuality and, when it did, it was with Yiddish slurs such as
faygele. He spent time in conversion therapy in his late teenage years.

But having lived in Philadelphia for the past 15 months and becoming
OneTable’s field manager in Philadelphia at the beginning of February,
helping to provide funding to young Jews looking to foster community
through Shabbat dinners, Levin is ready to take a rest from survival.

He’s ready to embrace Shabbat.

“Who can argue with Shabbat?” Levin said.

Levin’s Friday nights are often quiet, spent having dinner with friends
or his partner, or sometimes traveling back to New York for dinner with
10 MARCH 23, 2023 | JEWISH EXPONENT
his family. For the 25 hours his day of
rest spans, Levin revels in the freedom
and agency the day affords him: He can
do whatever he wants.

Like many of the ex-Orthodox Jews
Levin has encountered, Shabbat is
fraught. Growing up, Shabbat felt
claustrophobic. Levin spent the day
at yeshiva, where the minutes of his
schedule were predetermined.

Many young queer people seek
refuge from homophobic families or
environments in internet friendships,
which Levin was cut off from on
Saturdays. Instead of a day of rest,
Shabbat was a reminder of feeling out
of place, isolated, even ostracized.

As Levin healed his relationship with
Judaism, he recognized that a choose-
your-own-adventure Shabbat, which
OneTable offers, is a chance to heal
one’s relationship with the holiday.

“I hope that one of the things I can
do at OneTable is reintroduce Shabbat
to people who are ex-Orthodox in a
way that is on their terms, if that’s what
they want,” Levin said.

Levin’s journey to healing began
when he was 20.

By 18, he knew he was gay and
had signed up for a week at Jews
Offering New Alternatives for Healing,
an opportunity to rid himself of his
same-sex attraction which was
disgraced in his community.

JONAH instead was a week of humil-
iation and dehumanization.

In 2012, Levin and six others, repre-
sented by the Southern Law Poverty
Center, filed a lawsuit against JONAH
for consumer fraud. In 2015, the plain-
tiffs won the suit, and JONAH was
forced to close. But conversion therapy
in some Orthodox spaces remains a
problem, Levin said.

“It felt great to win,” he said. “But
I’m still deeply concerned about what
I know from people inside the commu-
nity, the things I’m seeing and hearing
from people on the ground.”
Levin has since stepped away from
advocacy work for the time being and
has focused on finding joy and commu-
nity with other queer Jews. Shortly
after he left conversion therapy, he
attended his first Purim party at Jewish
Queer Youth in New York. Last month,
he went back again.

“That Purim party changed my life
because suddenly I was standing in
a room full of people who were gay,
lesbian, trans,” Levin said. “They grew
up just like I did, and they understood
it, and that was the beginning of my
roaring out of the closet.”
Today, Levin is finding that feeling of
belonging in Philadelphia, where he’s
able to help other Jews connect with
Judaism in their own ways.

“I just want to be able to be part of
bringing that joy to anyone who seeks
it out,” Levin said.

Levin finds joy in the little moments
of his job. Sometimes healing can be as
simple as helping someone complete
their Instacart order before Shabbat,
making sure they get their cholent on the
stove well before the Friday sun sets. ■
srogelberg@midatlanticmedia.com Photo by Sarah Goldstein
Chaim Levin