January 12, 2026|כ"ג טבת ה' אלפים תשפ"ו The Cost of Being First
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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.