There’s a new writer on substack. She’s going by Tali, and she’s talking about her experience with sexual abuse in the Jewish community. She wrote about grief. And after reading her words I realized that this is what I have been feeling, this is where I have been living, for quite some time.
But once we have established that we stand with victims and we have taken the report seriously, let’s talk about grief. Let’s talk about loss. Because what the people who wonder how it can be true are really saying is, “I don’t want to lose my hero."
" I don’t want to believe that my rabbi could have done such a thing."
" I don’t want my world to fall apart.”
So, let’s create space for that mourning. Let’s sit by their side while they grieve. Perhaps they need to mourn the loss of their hero, the loss of their relative, the loss of their rabbi, the loss of what they always thought was true but is no more. These questions of disbelief are actually grief. I know, because I asked them, too. I know, because I am still mourning the loss of the world that once was.
When a serious allegation is made- whether it be domestic violence, sexual abuse, rape, amassing child pornography or worse- against someone we care about, someone we love, our world falls apart. It implodes.
And we are left with a choice. Do we believe the victim, who is claiming this is what happened to them? Or do we believe our own experiences, our interactions, our lives, which are intertwined with that of the alleged perpetrator? Remember the alleged perpetrator is a person we know, or knew. Someone we care about. Someone who has not shown us that they could be capable of this kind of behavior.
It’s easy to stand up for victims when the stakes are low- when we don’t know the person who allegedly harmed them. When we wouldn’t have to give something up, whether it’s as simple as our belief in that individual, or as far-reaching as a friendship or a marriage.
It’s easy to stand up for victims when the preponderance of the evidence demonstrates that what they are saying is true. When there are taped audio conversations, photographs, video footage. When there are many victims who are all making the same claim.
It’s not easy when all you have is one person’s word against another’s.
It’s not easy when the person who allegedly harmed someone else is your rabbi, your friend, your family member, your spouse.
It’s not easy when you personally benefited from that person- as many did from Chaim Walder. Because yes, what Chaim Walder did was heinous. It was evil. But he isn’t a cartoon villain. He’s a person. And that means that he’s complicated. There are children he helped, who benefited from his stories, who felt seen, who felt empowered. And then there are children whose lives he ruined.
But let’s not look at Chaim Walder. Let’s look at other cases, less sensational ones.
I know someone who had a mentor, an incredible teacher, from whom they learned so much. And then that person was arrested by the FBI because he had downloaded lots of child pornography on his computer. That mentor did not, as far as anyone is aware, every touch a child inappropriately. These were fantasies, fantasies he did not act on. But it’s still illegal. Because this kind of pornography still exploits children.
I know someone who had a rabbi, someone who shaped them, guided them and helped them become the Jew they are today. But that rabbi crossed lines, broke boundaries, and sat naked in the sauna alongside that boy. And that was harmful to the boy. Even with all the good the rabbi did, and even though it might not have been intentional, the impact was still there.
I know someone who loved a man, loved him completely, and then found out he was accused of domestic violence. Normally, this person believes women unreservedly. But here, they don’t know what to think. How could this be? Is the allegation true? False? How will they ever know?
So where does that leave them? Where does that leave us?
Disillusioned. Hurt. Betrayed. Grieving.
And grief is messy. Grief is not linear. There are days when it weighs less heavy on your heart, where you can experience joy and live. And then there are days when it is paralyzing, where you are so bowed down under the weight of it that you cannot get up, you cannot move; it is difficult even to breathe.
There are five stages of grief according to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross.
Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.
But even she writes that they aren’t linear. They shouldn’t be understood as stages per se. It might be better to see them as states of grief- or even islands. Where the person, lonely and marooned, tries to make sense of a world that isn’t logical anymore, a world that is chaotic and terrifying. A world where good people, people who helped you, people who were role models, people you care about, and who cared about you, can do terrible things.
Nobody ever wants to believe that a person who was important to them is capable of doing something awful.
In some ways, death is simpler. Because when someone is dead, you grieve a loss. With enough time, it is possible to move on.
But when someone has been accused of a terrible crime, you grieve the person you knew- or think you know. And in some ways, you can never move on. Because you cannot trust your judgment anymore. You cannot trust yourself.
And that’s where our community is right now. Disillusionment after disillusionment. Betrayal after betrayal. Rabbi after rabbi accused of awful things- whether it was spying on women in the mikva or having affairs or molesting children. These stories make us sad. They hurt us. They make us want to protect victims. But they also, and this is important, are painful on a personal level. We must acknowledge this because only then can we be honest with ourselves, honest as to why this is so hard. We are grieving a loss, the loss of who this person was to us- who we still want them to be- and who they are no longer. We are grieving something unimaginable- the breaking of our world.
Chana, this is everything. I think the world would be a different place for survivors if we could have a true conversation about grief.