**2. A case for denial**

184 Sexual Abuse – Breaking the Silence

The forum of the exposé was itself significant: the *Jewish Week* is anything but a fringe publication. On the contrary, it is a nationally distributed weekly magazine claiming over 100,000 subscribers to its hard copy weekly edition and a quarter of a million readers of its electronic version (updated daily). What is more, it is affiliated with the centrist Jewish Federation, a fact that tends to moderate its news reporting and makes it highly sensitive to criticism that it is singling out one religious group, such as Orthodox Jews, in its coverage. Nevertheless, Winston's initial foray was soon followed by even more alarming allegations. In an article dated May 31, 2011, she revealed that Ohel, apparently in a frantic effort to clear its name from the charges contained in the earlier article, had shared confidential files about abuse cases with outsiders. Such conduct raised the hackles of a number of child welfare

"Even if it were technically legal for Ohel to show the files to handpicked outside individuals, sharing patient information with consultants for the purpose of clearing the agency's name may be an inappropriate use of the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act, which governs privacy regulations, according to Abner Weintraub, a national authority on HIPAA. Mary Vandenack, another authority on HIPAA, told The Jewish Week that bringing in a consultant who is not an expert in the specific area or who has an interest in the outcome is unethical and may even constitute fraud if the agency and/or consultant make representations that the consultant is an expert"

In addition to what may have been a serious breach of confidentiality, Winston revealed that David Mandel, the agency's CEO, apparently implied to a group that reviewed those files "the prospect for future collaboration with and funding from Ohel." In other words, Ohel appears, in essence, to have bribed those who reviewed confidential files in order to elicit from them an assessment more favorable to the agency's public image. Sharing the files with outsiders in the first place was bad practice; the act threatened critical standards of confidentiality. Indeed, as Winston reported, it may have violated federal HIPAA laws. Coupled with an offer of financial benefit to the outside organization asked by Ohel to clear its name, the act took on a possibly criminal character. (Winston has told the authors that child advocates are asking law

enforcement officials to investigate possible criminal violations perpetrated by Ohel.)

These startling details tell only part of the story. The authors – both as researchers and as

systemic implications as well. How does Ohel's approach to reporting child sex abuse cases to authorities relate to its role vis-à-vis Orthodox Jewish communities in the United States, Canada and Israel, all of which financially (and politically) support the agency? How does the interlocking of Ohel and the Orthodox communities it serves contribute to the reification by which Ohel has become, as noted above, a "bulwark of the Orthodox Jewish community" (Barrett & Bowles, 1994)? Clearly, Ohel is a part of the Orthodox Jewish community rather than external to it. For this reason, our analysis of Ohel's conduct begins with a recognition of the agency as something integral to and generative of the community that has built,

In this chapter, consequently, we will use the prominent and readily available example of Ohel to investigate the underlying reasons for the Orthodox community's all-too-frequent

One of the authors is the daughter of the late Rabbi Dr. Abraham Neustein, a highly distinguished

– consider it imperative to examine the larger,

experts, as Winston reported:

(Winston, 2011b).

sustained and promoted it.

clergyman, educator and Talmudic scholar.

 1

members of the Orthodox Jewish community<sup>1</sup>

Ohel does not operate in a vacuum. Its actions reflect deeply held beliefs, attitudes and prejudices of the community it represents.

Although, strictly speaking, Jewish law requires adherence to governing secular law, in practice the observance of traditional Jewish piety is often at variance with secular laws requiring the reporting of suspected Jewish offenders to police. Let us examine how the Orthodox Jewish culture affects this sensitive issue.

### **2.1 Community homeostasis**

Much as the physiological system of an organism maintains internal stability, owing to the coordinated response of its parts to any situation or stimulus tending to disturb its normal condition, Orthodox Jewish communities as a whole strive to maintain internal stability by rejecting or attacking any forces that threaten to disturb the community's perceived harmony. An important component of that harmony is the perception that the community continues to project a public image as a locale of behavior that is devout, sober, ethical, and so forth.

What Went Wrong at Ohel Children's Home –

yeshivas and in the synagogue (Butler, 1999, p. 107).

and What Can Be Done About Its Failure to Protect Jewish Children from Abuse? 187

A decade earlier, Sandra Butler, an expert on sexual abuse, addressed the same conspiracy of silence. Writing in 1999 in the *Journal of Religion and Abuse*, Butler wrote: "One urgent concern I have is that there are many in the rabbinic leadership who still hold tightly to the illusion 'not here,' 'not them,' 'not us,'" when faced with alleged sexual abuse in families, in

Even before this, Rabbi Irving ("Yitz") Greenberg challenged rabbinic leaders to take responsibility for crimes of sexual abuse in a 1990 article appearing in *Moment*. Rabbi

Notwithstanding these warnings, it is clear that communal denial of sexual abuse is one way of maintaining homeostasis within the insular world of Orthodoxy. Denial may also be employed among Orthodox Jewish families – which exist as microcosms of the Orthodox community writ large – to deal with the disruption to homeostasis brought about when one

Massachusetts psychologist Joan M. Featherman demonstrates how the institution of the Jewish family is quick to eschew members who are alleged to disturb its harmony. In *Sexual Abuse in Nine North American Cultures: Treatment and Prevention*, Dr. Featherman wrote:

Baltimore psychologist Joyanna Silberg, who specializes in treating child sexual abuse trauma, reflected in "Out of the Jewish Closet," a co-written chapter appearing in Neustein's *Tempest in the Temple,* on the psychodynamics of Jewish families and their response of sexual abuse. After examining the accounts of various incest survivors, Silberg and her co-author, nurse practitioner Stephanie Dallam, showed how incest survivor Sue William Silverman

 It should perhaps be noted that, although Rabbi Greenberg is Orthodox, he does not belong to the more religiously "right-wing" Orthodox body of opinion that governs the more traditional Orthodox

*"*Jewish families tend to break off contact with family members who are perceived to have breached their commitment to the family harmony. These perceived breaches of commitment range from not attending a family event…to divorce, intermarriage…or

"To be silent then is to incur the grave guilt of accessory after the fact. Spiritual leaders who ignore or even cover up the presence of sexual abuse, Jewish media that continue the conspiracy of silence by acting as if this does not happen in the Jewish community, those that cut off or isolate victims who dare speak out, bring upon themselves the judgment that the Torah places on the accessory and the bystander: 'Do not stand idly

who has the power to break hearts and shatter souls" (Brown, 2009, p. 72).

Greenberg was unsparing in his address to his fellow Orthodox rabbis:

by the blood of your neighbor'" (Greenberg, 1990, p. 49.)<sup>2</sup>

family member charges sex abuse committed by another.

*disclosing sexual abuse*" (Featherman, 1995, p. 130).

described the ironic trap posed by the Jewish family structure:

 2

communities.

"That there are people who abuse authority for personal, immoral gain should not come as a shock. That some of these individuals have embraced a life of sacred service is extremely upsetting, but sadly, still not a surprise. . . . What we cannot excuse are those who stand on the outside and permit abuse because they do not call it by name. . . . The cry of clergy abuse victims is shattering. It breaks our hearts, and it can break our faith. . . . We must blame ourselves when we allow a religious leader to remain in place

Sex abuse charges asserted against community figures such as teachers, rabbis, etc. can represent a serious threat to community homeostasis. To begin with, the accusation challenges ingrained hierarchies – rabbis above laymen, teachers above students, men above women, adults above children.

In addition, the accusation often threatens the livelihood of the accused in a community marked by the interdependence of community members. For instance, the teacher whose student credibly accuses him of sexual abuse will likely have to leave his teaching position. But where is the teacher to go? In truth, he (or she) is not likely to find a job in a secular environment, nor even to seek one, since religious Jews are socialized from an early age to stay within the Orthodox community; such insular Jewish communities look askance at socializing with non-Jews, or even non-religious Jews, for fear that the cultural norms that guide and regulate the everyday activities of Orthodox Jews might be questioned when members of such insular communities are exposed to outsiders. Consequently, exposure to the outside world is kept to a minimum. So, the community is faced with a stark choice between ignoring the alleged victim and jeopardizing the career of the teacher being accused. This weights the community's response heavily against the accuser.

Besides the loss to the accused, sex abuse charges threaten a loss to the community itself. The tight-knit social organization that has come to depend on each of its members for fulfilling religious obligations – participating in a quorum for communal prayer, assisting in ritual washing and burial of the dead, visiting the sick, consoling mourners, etc. – suddenly faces the possibility of losing a member's participation in the tasks that punctuate, define and regulate religious life. By the same token, a charge of sexual abuse endangers the participation of the accused's children in community life; if the charge is publicized, and still more if it is accepted as true, the children are no longer seen as desirable marriage prospects because of the taint of scandal looming over their family. And, on the other hand, unmarried life is very much frowned upon.

It may seem ironic that the same community that struggles to hold on to its members, even those accused of abuse, because of the vital role each Orthodox Jew plays in the social and religious communal structure, is ready, if need be, to ostracize (in some cases, even to expel) a victim of abuse who presses an accusation. But this too can be explained. The community's choices seem peculiar only in light of an assumed egalitarianism, which in fact the community rejects. As mentioned above, the Orthodox Jewish community constantly reinforces the inequality of the status and power of its members as a vital part of its homeostasis. When we consider that abusive dynamics traditionally involve an imbalance of power, it is not hard to see why homeostasis favors the more powerful. In fact, one highlyplaced rabbi declared to one of the authors, "How would a school function if its principal or its teachers were expelled because of a sex abuse report made by a ten-year-old student?" That puts the whole case very neatly indeed. And when other officials offer patently inadequate excuses for disregarding child sex abuse reports (*e.g.*, "It takes time and money to find a replacement for a teacher"), they are implicitly affirming the same thing.

Erica Brown, a contributor to *Tempest in the Temple: Jewish Communities & Child Sex Scandals* – a collection of essays by rabbis, educators, mental health professionals and lawyers, published in 2009 – wrote passionately about the plight of clergy abuse victims when their complaints are disregarded or ignored:

Sex abuse charges asserted against community figures such as teachers, rabbis, etc. can represent a serious threat to community homeostasis. To begin with, the accusation challenges ingrained hierarchies – rabbis above laymen, teachers above students, men above

In addition, the accusation often threatens the livelihood of the accused in a community marked by the interdependence of community members. For instance, the teacher whose student credibly accuses him of sexual abuse will likely have to leave his teaching position. But where is the teacher to go? In truth, he (or she) is not likely to find a job in a secular environment, nor even to seek one, since religious Jews are socialized from an early age to stay within the Orthodox community; such insular Jewish communities look askance at socializing with non-Jews, or even non-religious Jews, for fear that the cultural norms that guide and regulate the everyday activities of Orthodox Jews might be questioned when members of such insular communities are exposed to outsiders. Consequently, exposure to the outside world is kept to a minimum. So, the community is faced with a stark choice between ignoring the alleged victim and jeopardizing the career of the teacher being

Besides the loss to the accused, sex abuse charges threaten a loss to the community itself. The tight-knit social organization that has come to depend on each of its members for fulfilling religious obligations – participating in a quorum for communal prayer, assisting in ritual washing and burial of the dead, visiting the sick, consoling mourners, etc. – suddenly faces the possibility of losing a member's participation in the tasks that punctuate, define and regulate religious life. By the same token, a charge of sexual abuse endangers the participation of the accused's children in community life; if the charge is publicized, and still more if it is accepted as true, the children are no longer seen as desirable marriage prospects because of the taint of scandal looming over their family. And, on the other hand, unmarried

It may seem ironic that the same community that struggles to hold on to its members, even those accused of abuse, because of the vital role each Orthodox Jew plays in the social and religious communal structure, is ready, if need be, to ostracize (in some cases, even to expel) a victim of abuse who presses an accusation. But this too can be explained. The community's choices seem peculiar only in light of an assumed egalitarianism, which in fact the community rejects. As mentioned above, the Orthodox Jewish community constantly reinforces the inequality of the status and power of its members as a vital part of its homeostasis. When we consider that abusive dynamics traditionally involve an imbalance of power, it is not hard to see why homeostasis favors the more powerful. In fact, one highlyplaced rabbi declared to one of the authors, "How would a school function if its principal or its teachers were expelled because of a sex abuse report made by a ten-year-old student?" That puts the whole case very neatly indeed. And when other officials offer patently inadequate excuses for disregarding child sex abuse reports (*e.g.*, "It takes time and money

to find a replacement for a teacher"), they are implicitly affirming the same thing.

Erica Brown, a contributor to *Tempest in the Temple: Jewish Communities & Child Sex Scandals* – a collection of essays by rabbis, educators, mental health professionals and lawyers, published in 2009 – wrote passionately about the plight of clergy abuse victims when their

accused. This weights the community's response heavily against the accuser.

women, adults above children.

life is very much frowned upon.

complaints are disregarded or ignored:

"That there are people who abuse authority for personal, immoral gain should not come as a shock. That some of these individuals have embraced a life of sacred service is extremely upsetting, but sadly, still not a surprise. . . . What we cannot excuse are those who stand on the outside and permit abuse because they do not call it by name. . . . The cry of clergy abuse victims is shattering. It breaks our hearts, and it can break our faith. . . . We must blame ourselves when we allow a religious leader to remain in place who has the power to break hearts and shatter souls" (Brown, 2009, p. 72).

A decade earlier, Sandra Butler, an expert on sexual abuse, addressed the same conspiracy of silence. Writing in 1999 in the *Journal of Religion and Abuse*, Butler wrote: "One urgent concern I have is that there are many in the rabbinic leadership who still hold tightly to the illusion 'not here,' 'not them,' 'not us,'" when faced with alleged sexual abuse in families, in yeshivas and in the synagogue (Butler, 1999, p. 107).

Even before this, Rabbi Irving ("Yitz") Greenberg challenged rabbinic leaders to take responsibility for crimes of sexual abuse in a 1990 article appearing in *Moment*. Rabbi Greenberg was unsparing in his address to his fellow Orthodox rabbis:

"To be silent then is to incur the grave guilt of accessory after the fact. Spiritual leaders who ignore or even cover up the presence of sexual abuse, Jewish media that continue the conspiracy of silence by acting as if this does not happen in the Jewish community, those that cut off or isolate victims who dare speak out, bring upon themselves the judgment that the Torah places on the accessory and the bystander: 'Do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor'" (Greenberg, 1990, p. 49.)<sup>2</sup>

Notwithstanding these warnings, it is clear that communal denial of sexual abuse is one way of maintaining homeostasis within the insular world of Orthodoxy. Denial may also be employed among Orthodox Jewish families – which exist as microcosms of the Orthodox community writ large – to deal with the disruption to homeostasis brought about when one family member charges sex abuse committed by another.

Massachusetts psychologist Joan M. Featherman demonstrates how the institution of the Jewish family is quick to eschew members who are alleged to disturb its harmony. In *Sexual Abuse in Nine North American Cultures: Treatment and Prevention*, Dr. Featherman wrote:

*"*Jewish families tend to break off contact with family members who are perceived to have breached their commitment to the family harmony. These perceived breaches of commitment range from not attending a family event…to divorce, intermarriage…or *disclosing sexual abuse*" (Featherman, 1995, p. 130).

Baltimore psychologist Joyanna Silberg, who specializes in treating child sexual abuse trauma, reflected in "Out of the Jewish Closet," a co-written chapter appearing in Neustein's *Tempest in the Temple,* on the psychodynamics of Jewish families and their response of sexual abuse. After examining the accounts of various incest survivors, Silberg and her co-author, nurse practitioner Stephanie Dallam, showed how incest survivor Sue William Silverman described the ironic trap posed by the Jewish family structure:

<sup>2</sup> It should perhaps be noted that, although Rabbi Greenberg is Orthodox, he does not belong to the more religiously "right-wing" Orthodox body of opinion that governs the more traditional Orthodox communities.

What Went Wrong at Ohel Children's Home –

We concluded our editorial by asking the question:

abuse charges (Neustein & Lesher, 2008).

child sexual abuse.

and What Can Be Done About Its Failure to Protect Jewish Children from Abuse? 189

under-recognized in religious Jewish communities simply because, thanks to the communal

"The denial by Jewish communities, and their leaders, that sexual abuse of all kinds does occur among Jews – with the ugly result that victims can pay a higher price than their tormentors when their accusations come to light. . . . In our examination of cases of alleged sex crimes by Jewish offenders in recent decades, we have found that both Jewish community figures and Jewish media lag behind in giving victims the support they deserve. This means that all too often the victims, not their alleged attackers, are sacrificed to the community's sense of shame. For instance, two years ago, a young boy in the ultra-Orthodox neighborhood of Borough Park, Brooklyn, accused a rabbi of having sexually abused him over a period of 18 months during private lessons. A child-abuse expert backed his story, but the Chasidic [piously religious] community was so eager to protect the accused rabbi -- whatever the facts -- that when a group of rabbis managed to persuade the District Attorney to drop the charges, the community celebrated publicly."

"How many victims must be sacrificed on the altar of the community's shame before

Around the same time, Dane Claussen published our chapter in his book *Sex, Religion, Media*, in which we demonstrated that Jewish media were still reluctant to run stories about

Unfortunately, it was clear to us – and still is – that the Orthodox Jewish community has a much larger problem in this respect than it has hitherto admitted. Nor have the emerging revelations of the disastrous consequences of cover-ups in the Catholic clergy done much to change the patterns of behavior in Jewish circles. Jewish media, which might conceivably act as an antidote to the community's taste for secrecy, have instead absorbed its distorted priorities. The religious leadership's need to block out the outside world, to protect itself from scrutiny by a society it regards as alien and dangerous, finds a parallel in the Jewish media's reluctance to publicize scandals among Jews (Neustein & Lesher, 2002b, p. 82).

Little had changed when, years later, we were invited to write an article for a special issue of the *Journal of Child Sexual Abuse* devoted to sex abuse committed by members of the clergy. The guest editors of this special issue – Drs. Robert A. McMackin, Terence M. Keane and Paul M. Kline – placed our paper prominently in this issue as the only contribution addressing abuse and cover-ups within the Jewish clergy: a compliment, perhaps, but also an ominous reminder that such analysis aimed at Jewish communities was still the exception. In our paper, titled "A Single Case Study of Rabbinic Sexual Abuse in the Orthodox Jewish Community," we analyzed abuse cover-ups within the Orthodox Jewish community by way of a detailed case history: a young, hearing-impaired Hasidic boy allegedly abused by his Hasidic tutor. The teacher, charged with 96 counts of serious child abuse, ultimately escaped even an indictment when, under pressure by a panel of rabbis, Brooklyn prosecutors dropped all charges against him. Afterward, the alleged victim's family faced so much ostracism from their Hasidic community that they were eventually forced to move away. Thus, the victim and his family – as so many prior cases – were sacrificed on the altar of the community's shame, paying the price for the community's misdeeds as its leaders suppressed an investigation in serious child

this conspiracy [of silence] ends?" (Neustein & Lesher, 2002a, p. 37).

fear of public exposure, too many victims met with cover-ups instead of compassion:

"[T]he sacredness of the family unit in Jewish communities may make it impossible for even the adults to get help outside the family" (Silberg & Dallam, 2009, p. 93).

Silberg's own clinical experience bears out that claim. Writing in *Tempest*, Silberg and her coauthor described how many clients originally sought family support when they discovered that their husbands were abusing their children. "They reported that, instead of giving support, their parents and friends encouraged them to look the other way, to 'stay with him,' or to work it out" (Silberg & Dallam, 2009, p. 93).

There is at least one more way in which a sex abuse accusation threatens community homeostasis. It challenges a principle of religious culture. The community considers it a touchstone of traditional Judaism that this ancient creed is perfect, answering to all needs and addressing all possible situations. Accordingly, Orthodox rabbinic leadership teaches (and enforces) the belief that whatever evil is encountered in Jewish life comes from "outside"; those raised entirely within Orthodoxy could not possibly be guilty of something as far from Jewish norms as sexual depravity. An accusation of child sexual abuse by an Orthodox Jew, particularly a rabbi or teacher, violates this basic principle and is therefore anathema. Judy Brown, who in 2009 (under the pseudonym "Eishes Chayil") authored a book about child sexual abuse specifically aimed at the Orthodox community, recently published a column (under the same pseudonym) in which she revealed that she and her publisher received threats from members of the community. "The message was clear," Brown wrote. "I had violated the rule that said victims must protect the community from their own crimes. Now, I would pay." And in Brown's candid assessment, it was just as clear what "message" the community preferred to send to Orthodox Jews in general:

"After I started meeting with victims and speaking with therapists, I began to encounter the community's wall of denial. These are things Jews don't do, I was told. . . .

"Some subjects are better left in silence, the rabbis said. Orthodox Jews did not need such words. Those were words for gentiles."

Brown wrote her book because, she says, "we [in the Orthodox community] forgot [to] look inside, to see that the most dangerous enemy always grows from within." Unfortunately, that is exactly the message that threatens the community's stability. (Chayil, 2011.)<sup>3</sup>

#### **2.2 Sacrificing victims**

In 2002, the Catholic Church child sex scandal made headlines around the world. At that time, presumably because of our high profile in speaking out about child sexual abuse in the Orthodox community (long before it became popular to do so), the authors suddenly found themselves invited by academic publishers, psychology journal editors and Jewish newspapers to comment in print, and now for a wider audience, on the perils of sex abuse within the Jewish clergy and the Jewish community writ large. We were asked, in particular, to address how such offenses were systematically covered up by the rabbinate, Jewish child care agencies, and powerful community organizations.

That year, the *Jewish Exponent*, a century-old paper serving metropolitan Philadelphia, invited us to write a guest editorial on the subject. We argued that child sex abuse was drastically

 3 Significantly, Brown explained in the column that she had published her book, *Hush*, under a pseudonym "to protect my family and friends from community retribution."

under-recognized in religious Jewish communities simply because, thanks to the communal fear of public exposure, too many victims met with cover-ups instead of compassion:

"The denial by Jewish communities, and their leaders, that sexual abuse of all kinds does occur among Jews – with the ugly result that victims can pay a higher price than their tormentors when their accusations come to light. . . . In our examination of cases of alleged sex crimes by Jewish offenders in recent decades, we have found that both Jewish community figures and Jewish media lag behind in giving victims the support they deserve. This means that all too often the victims, not their alleged attackers, are sacrificed to the community's sense of shame. For instance, two years ago, a young boy in the ultra-Orthodox neighborhood of Borough Park, Brooklyn, accused a rabbi of having sexually abused him over a period of 18 months during private lessons. A child-abuse expert backed his story, but the Chasidic [piously religious] community was so eager to protect the accused rabbi -- whatever the facts -- that when a group of rabbis managed to persuade the District Attorney to drop the charges, the community celebrated publicly."

We concluded our editorial by asking the question:

188 Sexual Abuse – Breaking the Silence

Silberg's own clinical experience bears out that claim. Writing in *Tempest*, Silberg and her coauthor described how many clients originally sought family support when they discovered that their husbands were abusing their children. "They reported that, instead of giving support, their parents and friends encouraged them to look the other way, to 'stay with

There is at least one more way in which a sex abuse accusation threatens community homeostasis. It challenges a principle of religious culture. The community considers it a touchstone of traditional Judaism that this ancient creed is perfect, answering to all needs and addressing all possible situations. Accordingly, Orthodox rabbinic leadership teaches (and enforces) the belief that whatever evil is encountered in Jewish life comes from "outside"; those raised entirely within Orthodoxy could not possibly be guilty of something as far from Jewish norms as sexual depravity. An accusation of child sexual abuse by an Orthodox Jew, particularly a rabbi or teacher, violates this basic principle and is therefore anathema. Judy Brown, who in 2009 (under the pseudonym "Eishes Chayil") authored a book about child sexual abuse specifically aimed at the Orthodox community, recently published a column (under the same pseudonym) in which she revealed that she and her publisher received threats from members of the community. "The message was clear," Brown wrote. "I had violated the rule that said victims must protect the community from their own crimes. Now, I would pay." And in Brown's candid assessment, it was just as

clear what "message" the community preferred to send to Orthodox Jews in general:

the community's wall of denial. These are things Jews don't do, I was told. . . .

that is exactly the message that threatens the community's stability. (Chayil, 2011.)<sup>3</sup>

"After I started meeting with victims and speaking with therapists, I began to encounter

"Some subjects are better left in silence, the rabbis said. Orthodox Jews did not need

Brown wrote her book because, she says, "we [in the Orthodox community] forgot [to] look inside, to see that the most dangerous enemy always grows from within." Unfortunately,

In 2002, the Catholic Church child sex scandal made headlines around the world. At that time, presumably because of our high profile in speaking out about child sexual abuse in the Orthodox community (long before it became popular to do so), the authors suddenly found themselves invited by academic publishers, psychology journal editors and Jewish newspapers to comment in print, and now for a wider audience, on the perils of sex abuse within the Jewish clergy and the Jewish community writ large. We were asked, in particular, to address how such offenses were systematically covered up by the rabbinate, Jewish child

That year, the *Jewish Exponent*, a century-old paper serving metropolitan Philadelphia, invited us to write a guest editorial on the subject. We argued that child sex abuse was drastically

Significantly, Brown explained in the column that she had published her book, *Hush*, under a

even the adults to get help outside the family" (Silberg & Dallam, 2009, p. 93).

him,' or to work it out" (Silberg & Dallam, 2009, p. 93).

such words. Those were words for gentiles."

care agencies, and powerful community organizations.

pseudonym "to protect my family and friends from community retribution."

**2.2 Sacrificing victims** 

 3 "[T]he sacredness of the family unit in Jewish communities may make it impossible for

"How many victims must be sacrificed on the altar of the community's shame before this conspiracy [of silence] ends?" (Neustein & Lesher, 2002a, p. 37).

Around the same time, Dane Claussen published our chapter in his book *Sex, Religion, Media*, in which we demonstrated that Jewish media were still reluctant to run stories about child sexual abuse.

Unfortunately, it was clear to us – and still is – that the Orthodox Jewish community has a much larger problem in this respect than it has hitherto admitted. Nor have the emerging revelations of the disastrous consequences of cover-ups in the Catholic clergy done much to change the patterns of behavior in Jewish circles. Jewish media, which might conceivably act as an antidote to the community's taste for secrecy, have instead absorbed its distorted priorities. The religious leadership's need to block out the outside world, to protect itself from scrutiny by a society it regards as alien and dangerous, finds a parallel in the Jewish media's reluctance to publicize scandals among Jews (Neustein & Lesher, 2002b, p. 82).

Little had changed when, years later, we were invited to write an article for a special issue of the *Journal of Child Sexual Abuse* devoted to sex abuse committed by members of the clergy. The guest editors of this special issue – Drs. Robert A. McMackin, Terence M. Keane and Paul M. Kline – placed our paper prominently in this issue as the only contribution addressing abuse and cover-ups within the Jewish clergy: a compliment, perhaps, but also an ominous reminder that such analysis aimed at Jewish communities was still the exception. In our paper, titled "A Single Case Study of Rabbinic Sexual Abuse in the Orthodox Jewish Community," we analyzed abuse cover-ups within the Orthodox Jewish community by way of a detailed case history: a young, hearing-impaired Hasidic boy allegedly abused by his Hasidic tutor. The teacher, charged with 96 counts of serious child abuse, ultimately escaped even an indictment when, under pressure by a panel of rabbis, Brooklyn prosecutors dropped all charges against him. Afterward, the alleged victim's family faced so much ostracism from their Hasidic community that they were eventually forced to move away. Thus, the victim and his family – as so many prior cases – were sacrificed on the altar of the community's shame, paying the price for the community's misdeeds as its leaders suppressed an investigation in serious child abuse charges (Neustein & Lesher, 2008).

What Went Wrong at Ohel Children's Home –

addressed the issue of child sex abuse (Shafran, 2006).

argued above, have always worked against victims of abuse.

**2.4 Religious rationalizations for non-reporting** 

example of such forbidden "traducing."<sup>4</sup>

Babylonian Talmud, *Baba Qamma* 116b-117a; *Gittin* 7a.

little better than common criminals.<sup>5</sup>

<sup>5</sup> *Arukh ha-Shulhan*, Hoshen ha-Mishpat 388:7.

**2.4.1** *M'sirah*

 4

and What Can Be Done About Its Failure to Protect Jewish Children from Abuse? 191

the world's most respected Orthodox authorities, issued a much-publicized ruling that clearly authorizes reporting cases of child sexual abuse to the police. No wonder that a spokesman for Agudath Israel of America has argued that his community has fully

Yet it has not, for the Orthodox rabbinate's assumption of its own ultimate power is so strong, and so unacknowledged, that even the more "liberal" rulings with respect to reporting abuse are read within the community merely as permitting a *rabbi* to authorize the reporting of abuse in a specific case. The Orthodox rabbinate has not grasped that so long as it operates as gatekeeper between victims and secular authorities, rabbis still can – and will – choose to suppress evidence of sex abuse whenever they think it appropriate. That this problem has not even been recognized by the Orthodox community's leading authorities is an indication of the enduring strength of the very hierarchies and prejudices that, as we

That these hierarchies are alive and well at Ohel is evident from the fact that the agency continues to name Rabbi Dovid Cohen as its chief advisor on matters of Jewish law – including the reporting of suspected crimes to secular authorities – and, in fact, singled him out for honor at its annual dinner in February 2011. Reportedly, Rabbi Cohen has taught publicly that Jews may steal from non-Jews or defraud non-Jewish governments, "as long as one doesn't get caught, according to people in attendance" (*Jewish Week* staff reporter, 2009).

We must now examine some of the specific rationales given in Orthodox communities for refusing to report suspected Jewish child abusers – or other criminals – to secular authorities. While these are matters of religious law, it will be seen that the interpretation of these concepts by contemporary rabbis is subject to, and an expression of, the underlying attitudes of the Orthodox community toward its surrounding communities and toward the issues posed by reporting one of "its own" to the representatives of non-Jewish institutions. Only when these attitudes, and their effects on members of the Orthodox Jewish community, are properly understood can we fathom the acts of institutions like Ohel.

Talmudic law contains a prohibition against *m'sirah*, or the "traducing" of one Jew by another to an extortionist (whether Jewish or non-Jewish) in order to cause the victim an injury. Although, strictly speaking, the law has nothing to do with reporting to law enforcement authorities – in fact, the Hebrew word *m'sirah* does not mean "informing," as often stated – the Talmud already cites a malicious report to a non-Jewish tax official as an

explanation found in an influential nineteenth-century commentary, was entirely the result of the ugly experiences Diaspora Jewish communities had suffered at the hands of rapacious tax farmers and similar "officials," who were often hostile to the Jews and in general were

that the principle of *m'sirah* does not prohibit reporting suspected criminal assaults

The reason for this, according to a typical

The consensus of contemporary Orthodox authority is

Our research has found that Orthodox Jewish community hostility to the publicizing of sex abuse charges can turn violent. In 1991, the day after a Stamford Hill (north London) rabbinic student was sentenced for sexually assaulting a five-year-old girl, a mob of between one and two hundred ultra-Orthodox Jews menaced the victim's family, hurling objects through their windows, causing the family to run for their lives. This was the fifth time they had been chased from their home during the criminal trial, which had lasted two years (Guardian staff reporter, 1991, p. 2).

Alas, this pattern has not abated with the passage of time. This year (2011), the authors were profiled once again in a Canadian television documentary called "Wall of Silence," which offered a close look at sex abuse cover-ups in Orthodox Jewish communities in the United States and Canada. Also featured in that documentary was a Brooklyn rabbi who alleges he was shot at with a pistol – and very nearly killed – by members of his community for speaking out about the plight of the abuse victim and the need to protect children from sexual predators within the community. He was also widely denounced in Williamsburg, New York (where he lives) on fliers distributed throughout his community depicting him as a poisonous snake (Mendelsohn, 2011). To date, no one in the community has apologized to the rabbi for any of these vicious attacks.

#### **2.3 Conflicts of interest**

As the facts above serve to illustrate, there is often a direct clash between the needs of abuse victims and the values brought to bear on their cases within Orthodox Jewish communities. Rabbi Dr. Mordechai Glick, vice president of an international organization of Orthodox Jewish health professionals, expressed this plainly when he complained eleven years ago, in a letter to *The Jewish Press*, that "if the police do get involved [in a case of alleged sex abuse], a massive cover-up and pressure campaign usually ensures that the case will either not get to trial or if it does, will be dropped because potential witnesses are pressured (code for threatened) to refuse to testify or outright lie" (Glick, 2000:87).

Recent developments confirm this pattern. This year, the entire Brooklyn Orthodox community mobilized in a search for a missing eight-year-old Hasidic boy named Leiby Kletzky. (In the end, lamentably, the boy was found dead: he had been abducted, smothered and then dismembered by an adult Orthodox Jew.) Even as masses of Orthodox community members scoured the streets for the abducted boy, one of the leading rabbis of Agudath Israel of America – America's single most influential ultra-Orthodox rabbinic body – insisted at a conference that any Orthodox Jew who suspects an act of child abuse must first turn to a rabbi, who will decide whether or not secular authorities should be contacted. What was especially remarkable about those comments is that the rabbi based them on the ruling of a highlyrespected ultra-Orthodox authority that has been widely claimed as evidence of the Orthodox community's greater openness to the reporting of child sex abuse. Yet the requirement to take any question to an Orthodox rabbi *before* reporting to police effectively reaffirms that the community's leaders, not police, will decide the fate of a child abuse victim.

What is behind this apparent contradiction? Leading Orthodox rabbis have, indeed, begun to discuss publicly the problem of child sexual abuse in their communities – a sign of progress in itself, for as recently as the 1990s the head of a prominent Orthodox rabbinic organization in Brooklyn could still insist to one of the authors that child sexual abuse simply did not exist among Orthodox Jews. And it is true that Rabbi Y. S. Elyashiv, one of the world's most respected Orthodox authorities, issued a much-publicized ruling that clearly authorizes reporting cases of child sexual abuse to the police. No wonder that a spokesman for Agudath Israel of America has argued that his community has fully addressed the issue of child sex abuse (Shafran, 2006).

Yet it has not, for the Orthodox rabbinate's assumption of its own ultimate power is so strong, and so unacknowledged, that even the more "liberal" rulings with respect to reporting abuse are read within the community merely as permitting a *rabbi* to authorize the reporting of abuse in a specific case. The Orthodox rabbinate has not grasped that so long as it operates as gatekeeper between victims and secular authorities, rabbis still can – and will – choose to suppress evidence of sex abuse whenever they think it appropriate. That this problem has not even been recognized by the Orthodox community's leading authorities is an indication of the enduring strength of the very hierarchies and prejudices that, as we argued above, have always worked against victims of abuse.

That these hierarchies are alive and well at Ohel is evident from the fact that the agency continues to name Rabbi Dovid Cohen as its chief advisor on matters of Jewish law – including the reporting of suspected crimes to secular authorities – and, in fact, singled him out for honor at its annual dinner in February 2011. Reportedly, Rabbi Cohen has taught publicly that Jews may steal from non-Jews or defraud non-Jewish governments, "as long as one doesn't get caught, according to people in attendance" (*Jewish Week* staff reporter, 2009).

#### **2.4 Religious rationalizations for non-reporting**

We must now examine some of the specific rationales given in Orthodox communities for refusing to report suspected Jewish child abusers – or other criminals – to secular authorities. While these are matters of religious law, it will be seen that the interpretation of these concepts by contemporary rabbis is subject to, and an expression of, the underlying attitudes of the Orthodox community toward its surrounding communities and toward the issues posed by reporting one of "its own" to the representatives of non-Jewish institutions. Only when these attitudes, and their effects on members of the Orthodox Jewish community, are properly understood can we fathom the acts of institutions like Ohel.

#### **2.4.1** *M'sirah*

190 Sexual Abuse – Breaking the Silence

Our research has found that Orthodox Jewish community hostility to the publicizing of sex abuse charges can turn violent. In 1991, the day after a Stamford Hill (north London) rabbinic student was sentenced for sexually assaulting a five-year-old girl, a mob of between one and two hundred ultra-Orthodox Jews menaced the victim's family, hurling objects through their windows, causing the family to run for their lives. This was the fifth time they had been chased from their home during the criminal trial, which had lasted two years

Alas, this pattern has not abated with the passage of time. This year (2011), the authors were profiled once again in a Canadian television documentary called "Wall of Silence," which offered a close look at sex abuse cover-ups in Orthodox Jewish communities in the United States and Canada. Also featured in that documentary was a Brooklyn rabbi who alleges he was shot at with a pistol – and very nearly killed – by members of his community for speaking out about the plight of the abuse victim and the need to protect children from sexual predators within the community. He was also widely denounced in Williamsburg, New York (where he lives) on fliers distributed throughout his community depicting him as a poisonous snake (Mendelsohn, 2011). To date, no one in the community has apologized to

As the facts above serve to illustrate, there is often a direct clash between the needs of abuse victims and the values brought to bear on their cases within Orthodox Jewish communities. Rabbi Dr. Mordechai Glick, vice president of an international organization of Orthodox Jewish health professionals, expressed this plainly when he complained eleven years ago, in a letter to *The Jewish Press*, that "if the police do get involved [in a case of alleged sex abuse], a massive cover-up and pressure campaign usually ensures that the case will either not get to trial or if it does, will be dropped because potential witnesses are pressured (code for

Recent developments confirm this pattern. This year, the entire Brooklyn Orthodox community mobilized in a search for a missing eight-year-old Hasidic boy named Leiby Kletzky. (In the end, lamentably, the boy was found dead: he had been abducted, smothered and then dismembered by an adult Orthodox Jew.) Even as masses of Orthodox community members scoured the streets for the abducted boy, one of the leading rabbis of Agudath Israel of America – America's single most influential ultra-Orthodox rabbinic body – insisted at a conference that any Orthodox Jew who suspects an act of child abuse must first turn to a rabbi, who will decide whether or not secular authorities should be contacted. What was especially remarkable about those comments is that the rabbi based them on the ruling of a highlyrespected ultra-Orthodox authority that has been widely claimed as evidence of the Orthodox community's greater openness to the reporting of child sex abuse. Yet the requirement to take any question to an Orthodox rabbi *before* reporting to police effectively reaffirms that the

What is behind this apparent contradiction? Leading Orthodox rabbis have, indeed, begun to discuss publicly the problem of child sexual abuse in their communities – a sign of progress in itself, for as recently as the 1990s the head of a prominent Orthodox rabbinic organization in Brooklyn could still insist to one of the authors that child sexual abuse simply did not exist among Orthodox Jews. And it is true that Rabbi Y. S. Elyashiv, one of

(Guardian staff reporter, 1991, p. 2).

the rabbi for any of these vicious attacks.

threatened) to refuse to testify or outright lie" (Glick, 2000:87).

community's leaders, not police, will decide the fate of a child abuse victim.

**2.3 Conflicts of interest** 

Talmudic law contains a prohibition against *m'sirah*, or the "traducing" of one Jew by another to an extortionist (whether Jewish or non-Jewish) in order to cause the victim an injury. Although, strictly speaking, the law has nothing to do with reporting to law enforcement authorities – in fact, the Hebrew word *m'sirah* does not mean "informing," as often stated – the Talmud already cites a malicious report to a non-Jewish tax official as an example of such forbidden "traducing."<sup>4</sup> The reason for this, according to a typical explanation found in an influential nineteenth-century commentary, was entirely the result of the ugly experiences Diaspora Jewish communities had suffered at the hands of rapacious tax farmers and similar "officials," who were often hostile to the Jews and in general were little better than common criminals.<sup>5</sup> The consensus of contemporary Orthodox authority is that the principle of *m'sirah* does not prohibit reporting suspected criminal assaults

 4 Babylonian Talmud, *Baba Qamma* 116b-117a; *Gittin* 7a.

<sup>5</sup> *Arukh ha-Shulhan*, Hoshen ha-Mishpat 388:7.

What Went Wrong at Ohel Children's Home –

His law" (Dratch, 2009, pp. 116-117).

explore. Let us now turn to some of the typical results.

itself. To quote Rabbi Dratch:

*hillul Hashem*. . . .

hidden" (*Id.*, p. 117).

**3. Some relevant histories** 

**2.4.3** *Hillul ha-shem*

and What Can Be Done About Its Failure to Protect Jewish Children from Abuse? 193

Borsuk's assumption that truth-telling runs afoul of "Jewish tradition's strong emphasis on not saying things . . . even if they are true" was carried even further by an Orthodox Jewish anchorwoman for a local television news station whose viewing area included parts of New York, New Jersey and Connecticut. When one of the authors sought the station's news coverage of serious allegations of a sex abuse cover-up at Ohel in 1987, the Orthodox anchorwoman personally contacted her to urge her "not to publicize the alleged scandal," because "it was far better to have a rabbi settle the matter than to air it in the press." As we have previously reported, "The station never aired the story until the anchorwoman left the station several years later; thereafter, its feature length piece covering the story won an Emmy Award" (Neustein & Lesher, 2002: p. 83). Once again, Jewish law – as understood by

A final rationalization used within Orthodox Jewish communities to silence victims of abuse is the prohibition against *hillul ha-shem*, which means "a desecration of God's name." The phrase itself requires some explanation. "Traditional Jewish law," writes Rabbi Dratch,

It is not difficult to see why the principle of *hillul ha-shem* is improperly applied to a truthful report of a violent crime. It is not the *report* of the act that constitutes the offense, but the act

"First, it is the unethical behavior in and of itself – not merely discussing it – that constitutes a desecration of God's name. The abuser, not the abused, has committed

"Second, when efforts to deny or suppress the truth about a crime are exposed, the scandal is much greater than the exposure of the crime alone. And Jewish tradition insists that scandalous behavior will always come to light despite efforts to keep it

In a word, not only is reporting child abuse to authorities not an example of *hillul ha-shem*, a failure to report it actually amounts to a massive violation of precisely the same principle. Certainly, this element of religious law cannot be invoked to justify refusal to report such crimes. It is fair to say that not one of the appeals to elements of Jewish law commonly deployed within Orthodox communities to defend a policy of suppressing abuse reports can withstand scrutiny. Yet the practice continues, for reasons we have already attempted to

In 1990, on Yom Kippur – the most solemn day of the Jewish year – eight-year-old Yaakov Riegler was stabbed to death by his mother with a kitchen fork. The case attracted

"deems an act committed by a religious Jew that arouses public disgust (particularly on the part of non-Jewish observers) a 'desecration,' in effect of God Himself, since in the eyes of the Talmud Jews are identified with God through the responsibility of observing

different from the strong stand Judaism takes . . ." (Borsuk, 1997).

experts – cuts one way, but cultural attitudes, fears and prejudices cut another.

accepting position that the news media take on a lot of social and lifestyle issues is very

(including sex abuse) by a Jew to secular law enforcement authorities, certainly not in a country with a functioning justice system (Dratch, 2009, p. 116).

That, however, does not prevent Orthodox Jews from condemning those who do report sex offenses to authorities as if they had, in fact, committed a cardinal sin. Nearly all of the Orthodox Jewish sex abuse victims who have spoken to the authors have described being sternly warned not to report what was done to them to police. Indeed, the authors have both been accused, by many Orthodox Jews, of committing *m'sirah* ourselves simply for publishing the facts of a few such cases. Clearly, the force of the principle has slipped its moorings in Jewish law and has taken on a life of its own. In fact, a declaration signed by fifty prominent rabbis appeared in a Yiddish-language Brooklyn newspaper in 2000, openly encouraging the murder of anyone who informed on a fellow Jew to secular authorities (Neustein & Lesher, 2009, p. 201).

Obviously, *m'sirah* is a handy club to swing at abuse victims who speak out. As a rationale for refusing to report crimes against children to police, however, it is does not pass muster with experts in rabbinic law.

#### **2.4.2** *Lashon ha-ra*

*M'sirah* is probably the most frequently invoked rationalized invoked by Orthodox Jews for failing to report crimes against children, or for discouraging others from making such reports. However, apart from the question of "traducing" a fellow Jew, there are two separate but related issues that often appear in the discourse.

Jewish law contains a prohibition against slander, gossip and tale-bearing, collectively referred to in Jewish literature as "*lashon ha-ra*." Although it is commonplace for Orthodox community members to accuse abuse victims of violating this prohibition whenever they speak out about their experiences, this – like the invocation of *m'sirah* discussed above – quite plainly amounts to an abuse of Jewish law. As Rabbi Mark Dratch explains, using the prohibition to intimidate genuine victims from speaking out is itself *lashon ha-ra*:

"*Lashon ha-ra* can be a tool of abuse, both when derogatory speech defames innocent people, destroying their reputations, and when warnings to refrain from derogatory speech are used to silence victims of abuse who cry out for help. . . . Victims of abuse need to speak out, for all kinds of personal reasons, in order to help themselves. . . . And the community needs to speak out in order to hold the perpetrators responsible and in order to protect other innocents from potential harm."

It is evident that the claim of "*lashon ha-ra*" will not take one any farther toward a "defense" of non-reporting of child abuse than the parallel issue of *m'sirah*. Still, members of the Orthodox community quite commonly invoke it to achieve exactly that result. Even Orthodox journalists are not immune. As the authors reported in 2002, an Orthodox news writer named Alan Borsuk has claimed publicly – and incorrectly, in our view – that being a religious Jew and being committed to publicizing the truth are, to some extent, inconsistent values because of the Jewish laws against *lashon ha-ra*:

"The worlds of Orthodox Judaism and newspapering have some very different philosophic premises. Journalism's cardinal tenet of laying out the facts and letting the chips fall where they may is definitely in conflict with *Jewish tradition's strong emphasis on not saying things that unnecessarily harm others, even if they are true*. . . . The neutral or accepting position that the news media take on a lot of social and lifestyle issues is very different from the strong stand Judaism takes . . ." (Borsuk, 1997).

Borsuk's assumption that truth-telling runs afoul of "Jewish tradition's strong emphasis on not saying things . . . even if they are true" was carried even further by an Orthodox Jewish anchorwoman for a local television news station whose viewing area included parts of New York, New Jersey and Connecticut. When one of the authors sought the station's news coverage of serious allegations of a sex abuse cover-up at Ohel in 1987, the Orthodox anchorwoman personally contacted her to urge her "not to publicize the alleged scandal," because "it was far better to have a rabbi settle the matter than to air it in the press." As we have previously reported, "The station never aired the story until the anchorwoman left the station several years later; thereafter, its feature length piece covering the story won an Emmy Award" (Neustein & Lesher, 2002: p. 83). Once again, Jewish law – as understood by experts – cuts one way, but cultural attitudes, fears and prejudices cut another.

#### **2.4.3** *Hillul ha-shem*

192 Sexual Abuse – Breaking the Silence

(including sex abuse) by a Jew to secular law enforcement authorities, certainly not in a

That, however, does not prevent Orthodox Jews from condemning those who do report sex offenses to authorities as if they had, in fact, committed a cardinal sin. Nearly all of the Orthodox Jewish sex abuse victims who have spoken to the authors have described being sternly warned not to report what was done to them to police. Indeed, the authors have both been accused, by many Orthodox Jews, of committing *m'sirah* ourselves simply for publishing the facts of a few such cases. Clearly, the force of the principle has slipped its moorings in Jewish law and has taken on a life of its own. In fact, a declaration signed by fifty prominent rabbis appeared in a Yiddish-language Brooklyn newspaper in 2000, openly encouraging the murder of anyone who informed on a fellow Jew to secular authorities

Obviously, *m'sirah* is a handy club to swing at abuse victims who speak out. As a rationale for refusing to report crimes against children to police, however, it is does not pass muster

*M'sirah* is probably the most frequently invoked rationalized invoked by Orthodox Jews for failing to report crimes against children, or for discouraging others from making such reports. However, apart from the question of "traducing" a fellow Jew, there are two

Jewish law contains a prohibition against slander, gossip and tale-bearing, collectively referred to in Jewish literature as "*lashon ha-ra*." Although it is commonplace for Orthodox community members to accuse abuse victims of violating this prohibition whenever they speak out about their experiences, this – like the invocation of *m'sirah* discussed above – quite plainly amounts to an abuse of Jewish law. As Rabbi Mark Dratch explains, using the

"*Lashon ha-ra* can be a tool of abuse, both when derogatory speech defames innocent people, destroying their reputations, and when warnings to refrain from derogatory speech are used to silence victims of abuse who cry out for help. . . . Victims of abuse need to speak out, for all kinds of personal reasons, in order to help themselves. . . . And the community needs to speak out in order to hold the perpetrators responsible and in

It is evident that the claim of "*lashon ha-ra*" will not take one any farther toward a "defense" of non-reporting of child abuse than the parallel issue of *m'sirah*. Still, members of the Orthodox community quite commonly invoke it to achieve exactly that result. Even Orthodox journalists are not immune. As the authors reported in 2002, an Orthodox news writer named Alan Borsuk has claimed publicly – and incorrectly, in our view – that being a religious Jew and being committed to publicizing the truth are, to some extent, inconsistent

"The worlds of Orthodox Judaism and newspapering have some very different philosophic premises. Journalism's cardinal tenet of laying out the facts and letting the chips fall where they may is definitely in conflict with *Jewish tradition's strong emphasis on not saying things that unnecessarily harm others, even if they are true*. . . . The neutral or

prohibition to intimidate genuine victims from speaking out is itself *lashon ha-ra*:

country with a functioning justice system (Dratch, 2009, p. 116).

separate but related issues that often appear in the discourse.

order to protect other innocents from potential harm."

values because of the Jewish laws against *lashon ha-ra*:

(Neustein & Lesher, 2009, p. 201).

with experts in rabbinic law.

**2.4.2** *Lashon ha-ra*

A final rationalization used within Orthodox Jewish communities to silence victims of abuse is the prohibition against *hillul ha-shem*, which means "a desecration of God's name." The phrase itself requires some explanation. "Traditional Jewish law," writes Rabbi Dratch,

"deems an act committed by a religious Jew that arouses public disgust (particularly on the part of non-Jewish observers) a 'desecration,' in effect of God Himself, since in the eyes of the Talmud Jews are identified with God through the responsibility of observing His law" (Dratch, 2009, pp. 116-117).

It is not difficult to see why the principle of *hillul ha-shem* is improperly applied to a truthful report of a violent crime. It is not the *report* of the act that constitutes the offense, but the act itself. To quote Rabbi Dratch:

"First, it is the unethical behavior in and of itself – not merely discussing it – that constitutes a desecration of God's name. The abuser, not the abused, has committed *hillul Hashem*. . . .

"Second, when efforts to deny or suppress the truth about a crime are exposed, the scandal is much greater than the exposure of the crime alone. And Jewish tradition insists that scandalous behavior will always come to light despite efforts to keep it hidden" (*Id.*, p. 117).

In a word, not only is reporting child abuse to authorities not an example of *hillul ha-shem*, a failure to report it actually amounts to a massive violation of precisely the same principle. Certainly, this element of religious law cannot be invoked to justify refusal to report such crimes.

It is fair to say that not one of the appeals to elements of Jewish law commonly deployed within Orthodox communities to defend a policy of suppressing abuse reports can withstand scrutiny. Yet the practice continues, for reasons we have already attempted to explore. Let us now turn to some of the typical results.
