Justice for the Children- Some thoughts from the Taubenfeld abuse trial

I know that I can’t have held my breath for 1 ½ hours this past Friday. Still, as i sat in the courtroom listening to Laiby Stern testify about the abuse he suffered at the hands of his former neighbor Moshe Menachem Taubenfeld, a powerful and influential member EDIT (my original information description was incorrect) [a teacher and mashpia] in the chassidic community in New Square, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

As I listened to Laiby as he was cross-examined by the defense lawyer I felt so many different emotions rise up inside of me. Perhaps the strongest emotion that I felt was anger. Anger at the dozens of men who were there to support Taubenfeld. Men who smiled, smirked, and even laughed each time Stern, who has a learning disability, was tripped up by the high-paid defense attorney. Anger at a community that instinctively circles the wagons around its most powerful members, rather than protecting those who are most vulnerable. Anger at a community that refuses to recognize the dangers posed by abusers in their community, where the abuser might receive, at most, a beating and a warning to not do it again, or, if they are influential enough, no consequence at all. I also felt anger at the the fact that the community fears the outside world more than it fears its children being hurt, and anger that it blames the victim for any subsequent problems  he or she might face, rather than holding the abuser responsible.

After the trial, I heard about how other victims of abuse in New Square and other chassidic communities are following this case, anxiously waiting to see whether it’s worth it to come forward to bring charges. If Laiby loses his cases, these young people will take it as a sign that they can not succeed if they come forward. I was told that some might give up more than that, and had suggested they might jump off a bridge if Taubenfeld is found not guilty.

After having had some time to process what I saw and heard, more than anything, I feel powerless, knowing that whatever anger, fear, and frustration I might feel, there is little if anything I can accomplish to bring about change. Perhaps the presence of those who attended the trial to support Laiby gave him some encouragement as the defense lawyer tried to get him frustrated and catch him in a lie, but I am left wondering what, if anything else, I could do to effect change in a community of which I am not a part. I attended the trial wanting to give hope to Laiby, and to other victims, wanting to believe that somehow, justice would prevail, and to believe that, finally, in communities like New Square the wellbeing of the children would finally take center-stage. It was this lack of power, and the wishful thinking it subsequently brought about, that, in the end, leaves me feeling so deeply sad and afraid.

"I know that I can’t have held my breath for 1 ½ hours this past Friday. Still, as i sat in the courtroom listening to...

Posted by Pesach Sommer on Monday, July 20, 2015

Justice for David Gordon z"l- Putting an end to sexual-abuse in the Jewish community

There’s a famous quote from Golda Meir that “Peace will come when the Arabs love their children more than they hate us”. Perhaps we can paraphrase this quote in talking of sexual-abuse within our communities. Child abuse will end when we, as a community, love our children more than our institutions and those who work for, or run them.

Perhaps that sounds overly harsh to you, but if so, I challenge you to read this article by David Gordon z”l, the Israeli soldier whose life ended under circumstances that are being investigated. If your heart does not break, check yourself for a pulse. We rightfully cry over every soldier who is killed in war, and Gordon deserves no less. The fact that his enemies live among us and work at our institutions makes things even worse. “But what can we do?”, you might ask. It needs to be made clear to every person who works in our community that our number one concern is for the safety of our children, and that no institution, no matter how vital, and no individual, no matter how “choshuv” will be allowed to escape responsibility, both legally and financially. How can it be that there are heads of schools, shuls and institutions who ignored claims of abuse, who still hold their jobs? How can it be that money is donated to mosdos that covered up abuse within their midst? The fact that our community has, perhaps, gotten better at dealing with this, is not enough. The movement is too slow. Too often abusers hold onto their jobs, or are allowed to move on to another community, without facing criminal charges.

How many more boys and girls have to have their lives destroyed, unable to fight the demons and nightmares, while seeing their abusers walk around freely, before we get serious? How many more lives must be permanently altered before we take this issue of pikuach nefesh seriously? How many more families have to mourn for young people, who have so much to give and so much life to live, before we take this issue seriously?

Rosh Chodesh Elul begins (or has already begun) this evening. In less than six weeks we will be standing before HaShem confessing our sins, as individuals and as a collective. It is time to act so that we no longer have to say an “al-cheit” for standing idly by while lives were destroyed.