13 Jan THE COST OF BEING FIRST

While returning to
school from a class
trip, a third-grade
student from
Yeshivat Noam in
Paramus was
severely injured
when a rock was thrown at her school bus
on the New Jersey Turnpike. As the buses
traveled near the Teaneck Road exit, a
large rock shattered a window and struck
the young girl in the head. What initially
appeared to be a minor injury quickly
turned into a nightmare. A CAT scan
revealed bleeding on the brain and the
child now required surgery. Baruch
Hashem the surgery was successful and
she is recovering.
It was frightening. It was horrifying. And it
understandably shook our community to
its core.
Almost immediately, social media erupted.
Though the school and law enforcement
explicitly stated that they did not yet know
the nature or motive of the incident (and
there were no external markings on the bus
that identified it as a bus with Jewish
students), many online rushed to label it a

horrific antisemitic attack. Predictably, the
declarations followed. This is the end of
Jewish life in America. Jews are no longer
safe. History is repeating itself before our
eyes.
Two days later, an arrest was made.
Authorities announced that the suspect,

already charged in a series of rock-
throwing incidents across Bergen County,

was not motivated by antisemitism. He
was mentally unstable. State police
revealed that he had been awaiting trial for
similar acts, including an aggravated
assault in Bogota that had already landed
him in jail. Court records showed multiple
additional charges after his release,
including alleged assaults on law
enforcement officers, criminal mischief,
and trespassing.
This was not a hate crime. It was a tragic
act of violence committed by someone
deeply unwell.
Just a few months earlier, a remarkably
similar story unfolded. In October, a rabbi
in New Jersey was attacked outside his
home. Surveillance footage showed
bystanders rushing to help as the rabbi and

a good Samaritan suffered
minor injuries. Within
minutes, the internet
declared with certainty
that a rabbi putting up his
sukkah was attacked in
broad daylight by an
antisemite.
Strong statements
followed. Dire warnings
were issued. Fear spread.
But once again, the facts
told a different story.
Police stated clearly, “This
was a random act of
violence. No words were
exchanged prior to the
assault, and there is no indication that this
attack was motivated by race, religion, or
ethnicity.” The suspect had a criminal
record. There was no evidence of a hate
crime. The rabbi was not putting up his
sukkah. And yet the online verdict had
already been rendered.
I do not share these stories to minimize or
dismiss the very real and deeply disturbing
rise in antisemitism. The statistics are
undeniable. The threats are real. The
actual, horrific acts of violence that have
occurred are too painful and numerous to
count. We must remain vigilant,
courageous, and vocal. We must call out
hatred, confront it, and fight it legally,
morally, and spiritually.
The rush to assume motive is
understandable. After October 7th (and
the response to it), comedian Jim
Gaffigan captured a feeling many Jews
recognized when he quipped, “Does
anyone else feel the need to call all their
Jewish friends and say, ‘Okay, you
weren’t being paranoid’?”
And yet, Torah does not ask us only to
feel. It asks us to think. To pause. To
reflect.
Our rabbis begin Pirkei Avos with the
teaching: hevei mesunim b’din, be slow
to judgment. Rabbeinu Yonah explains
that one who is quick to judge is called a
sinner. Even if he believes he is speaking
truth, his error is not considered
accidental. It is closer to willful
wrongdoing, because he failed to reflect.
A hasty mind, Rabbeinu Yonah teaches,
lacks the depth required to truly know.
Technology has reshaped how we
process reality. Information travels
instantly. Opinions spread faster than
facts. There is a cultural race to be first,
to alert, to alarm, to analyze, to advise,
often without the patience to gather, to
listen, to learn. This is dangerous for the

content creator and the content consumer
alike. And despite repeated examples, we
seem unwilling to slow down.
We are watching this same phenomenon
play out now as the public rushes to
conclusions about the incident involving
the death of Renee Nicole Good at the
hands of an ICE agent in Minneapolis.
Before full video evidence emerged, before
facts were established, before
investigations concluded (or were even
conducted!), each side hurried to condemn
or defend, to accuse or absolve, filtered
entirely through preconceived narratives.
We saw not events, but reflections of our
own assumptions.
Hevei mesunim b’din.
This teaching is not about passivity. It is
about discipline. It is not a call to ignore
injustice, but a demand to pursue truth
responsibly. A Torah-guided life insists
that moral clarity must be built on factual
clarity. Outrage untethered from truth does
not heal the world. It fractures it further.
The Torah’s insistence on deliberation is
not antiquated wisdom. It is desperately
needed guidance for a hyperconnected,
emotionally charged age. Being slow to
judgment does not make us naive. It makes
us trustworthy. It makes our voices credible
when real hatred appears, when genuine
threats emerge, when antisemitism
unmistakably reveals itself.
If we cry wolf every time, if we speak with
certainty before we know, then when the
wolf truly comes, our warnings lose their
force.
We owe it to the victims of real hate. We
owe it to our community. And we owe it to
the Torah that demands integrity not only
in what we believe, but in how we arrive
there.
Hevei mesunim b’din. In a world rushing
to conclusions, have the courage to pause.