Good morning. I want to share a difficult episode from my childhood and highlight something my parents did absolutely right.
When I was a young girl, before my Bat Mitzvah, a perverted rabbi targeted me at my elementary school. I cannot recall exactly what he did—memory tells me he either forced a hug or tried to touch my hair—leaving the details murky, gray, and strange. But it was undeniably creepy.
When I told my parents, my mother—may she live and be well—sprang into action. She is a short, quiet, and profoundly good woman who rarely speaks unless absolutely necessary. Yet, she floored the gas pedal. Flying at what felt like 100 miles an hour through our small town, she marched into my school, stomped up the stairs to the principal’s office, and confronted him. Later, my father took the matter to the school leadership for an equally intense discussion. Because there was no specific crime we could report to the police back then, legal action wasn’t an option. However, I was deeply traumatized and suffered from severe symptoms for years. I carried a heavy burden of shame, falsely believing it was my fault, while the rabbi slandered me across town as a troublemaker.
Years later, we unexpectedly ran into him in Monsey.
My father and I walked into a pizza shop where the rabbi was standing at the counter.
His back was turned, so I didn’t recognize him at first. But when he turned around, he flashed us the most evil smile I have ever witnessed in my life.
I share this to remind you that those who scream the loudest, appear the most confident, or wear the uniform of religion are not inherently trustworthy. Listen to the voice of truth, no matter who or where it comes from, and never automatically accept someone else’s lashon hara as fact. Have a great day.
Writing by Dr. Dannielle Blumenthal 