When you read an essay that begins, “I am an, Orthodox rabbi and gay,” what can you say? I mean, this is not like, “I am a Trappist monk who snorkels.” We have passed beyond the merely improbable to a world where language is capable of statements like, “I am a vegetarian butcher.” It’s not so much impossible as meaningless — or meaningful only once words have divorced their definitions and begun to cruise the back alleys, looking for abuse.

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