After he won the 1949 Nobel Prize for literature, American novelist and poet, William Faulkner was asked how he became such a skilled writer. He responded, “Learn how to kill your darlings.” Separating what you love from what works doesn’t come easily. Then again, neither do Nobel Prizes. Point is: Achievement can remain out of reach when we allow emotions to cloud our judgment. This idea transcends Faulkner. Consider the pet owner compelled to put down her cancer-riddled dog in spite of the urge to “wait it through”. Or the dad forced to call the police on his drug-addicted son after another near fatal outburst. Or the young man prepared to expose the religious institution in which he was repeatedly molested as a boy.
Last year, a schoolmate of mine, Menachem "Manny" Waks, came forward to speak publicly for the first time about the sexual abuse he says dogged his childhood. The abuse took place at Yeshivah College, a Lubavitch school established in Melbourne, Australia back in 1949. In spite of the school’s emphasis on Torah values, Manny’s experience was not an isolated one. Nor was there only one child predator lurking among the teaching staff. Manny shared the details of his abuse with the school’s top administrator expecting outrage and immediate action to follow. It didn’t. Instead of reporting the complaint to police and treating the abuse as a true crime, the school opted to deal with the allegations internally. So what did they do? In one case, the school allowed a convicted pedophile to escape local authorities and return to his native United States where he would go on to abuse other kids including a 12-year-old boy who was sodomized during a youth program at a St Louis synagogue. Other individuals were reprimanded and encouraged to seek counseling—all while remaining gainfully employed at the school where they would continue to molest other students. Not surprisingly Yeshivah was accused of covering up the scandals.
Yeshivah was established by a group of post-war immigrants in the late 1940s. These were folks that gladly traded labor camps and gas chambers for a secluded country where they could rebuild from scratch. Yeshivah became a source of pride to the Melbourne Jewish community and it’s chief Rabbi, the late Dovid Groner, was widely considered the community’s “go to” rabbi. On a personal note, this was the place I prayed with my late dad throughout my childhood. Where deceased loved ones are immortalized upon brass plaques covering the synagogue’s walls. Where a Torah scroll bearing my father’s name sits within the synagogue’s arc (a gift from my family). Where I studied, made lifelong friends and played football until the dusk light made it impossible to see the ball clearly anymore. Yes, Yeshivah was a place I loved and still visit during trips back home. But if forced to choose between my affinities for the institution or whether it ought to take full responsibility for what happened to Manny and other children, I don’t need any time to mull over the decision. These young men deserve justice. Period. Instead, many members of the community view these victims as rabble-rousers and thorns that ought to remain silent and move on. Perhaps this is the reflexive reaction of a population born largely from Holocaust survivors who had no interest in drawing further attention to themselves—especially from “goyim” who couldn’t possibly understand the lifestyles of orthodox Jews. It’s a position I understand yet am nonetheless repulsed by. Think about the irony for a moment. Jewish communities like Melbourne’s were only ever established because of a massive postwar influx of Jews. They were victims themselves, and in their hour of need the “civilized” world turned its back on them. But instead of developing a heightened sensitivity to the plight of Jewish victimhood, Yeshivah too, remained silent. Simply inexcusable.
Imminent lawsuits threaten to further damage the school’s reputation and throw the organization into financial chaos. Consider it a punitive form of chemotherapy in which healthy elements suffer along with cancerous ones. But ask any oncologist and they’ll confirm it; ignoring the cancer won’t make it go away.
