My Story 11

Within days of my wife's departure from our home, I began receiving phone calls from distant places, from people who had had the same experience. Most were from men, whose wives had left them as a result of their infatuation with Carlebach, but there were also women whose husbands had become his groupies. When these women criticized Carlebach's behavior, he told their husbands to "get out fast". Only after his death, in 1994, did numerous women go public with their horror stories. Many had asked him for spiritual guidance, but, instead found him quickly on top of them. Those who protested, were shown the door, with rude remarks made to them. Some of these women wanted nothing further to do with Judaism. Some even converted to other faiths. But for all of his victims, whether the women (and girls) who were abused, or the men who loved them, the experience caused alienation from the community. First, there were cries of "lashon hara". (As I have pointed out, most of the "lashon hara" arguments are halachically baseless. It is a mitzvah to expose dangerous people). One of my closest friends at that time, upon hearing my story, told me to my face "I don't believe you". My congregation was very supportive of me, but even they could not understand my grief. "You're better off without her! You lost your child? You'll have other children!". I never felt so alone. When I did get back into dating, my being divorced made me almost a leper. Carlebach was too much a part of the American Jewish  scene to be ignored. All those complaining must be crazy...or evil. Parents refused to believe their daughters' stories. Even when the victims were not being persecuted, there was little sensitivity to our pain. We might be deep in prayer, when the congregation will begin belting out a Carlebach tune. No one seemed to be sensitive to our feelings. When my children got married, I insisted that no Carlebach music be played. There were many objections from their spouses. Even when I remarried, I told the band that I wanted no Carlebach music. They were mystified and stunned. "How can you have a wedding with no Shlomo?" My experiences had driven a permanent wedge between me and most of the organized Jewish community. Unlike many, I didn't leave Judaism; but I became an island unto myself. After his death, even many of those who had always opposed him, fell under his spell. It irks me to no end that his tomb in Jerusalem is the object of pilgrimage, even for many ultra-Orthodox Jews. (There is an Arabic proverb: "Many a saint's tomb is painted white, while its occupant is in Hell").  Even his daughter, Neshama, said "I believe the stories, but I refuse to let them define my Father." Too bad countless others had no choice but to have their lives defined by him. Since he often quoted Rabbi Nachman, he is identified in the minds of many as a great leader of Breslov. There is even a "Carlebach Minyan" in Uman during Rosh HaShana. When the Breslov Research Institute published their monumental translation of the Likkutei Moharan, a donor asked that a volume be dedicated to Carlebach's memory. I was called with an apology, but was essentially told that "business is business". I later learned that Carlebach's behavior was not unique. There are many other "Carlebachs" out there, and one needs to exercise caution. My journey had hit a major bump in the road. Wounded, but wiser, I continued.

My Story 10

At last, I had found the love of my life...or so I thought. It only took two weeks for difficulties to emerge. I had recently gotten a position in Mohegan Lake, in Northern Westchester, New York, in a mostly Summer lakeside community. I was given the use of a cute six room country house. I moved in with my new bride. Life seemed complete. Carlebach went to Israel every Summer. Before he left, he would conduct a retreat at a camp in upstate New York. As my official rabbinic duties didn't begin for a few weeks, my wife begged me to come with her to the retreat. I agreed. I immediately spotted some fairly minor violations of halachah that I pointed out to my wife (besides the hugging and kissing among the participants). I wasn't pointing a finger, but merely asking her to explain. More problematic than what I had seen, was her response. "I know Shlomo's sins, and I pray every day that I may be punished in his stead". I was shocked that a young wife would speak that way. "Were you romantically involved with him?" She hung her head, almost tearful, saying  "no. We both know I am not what he needs". She then "explained" "I am ninety-five percent Shlomo. When he looks into my eyes, I am one hundred percent Shlomo." (I told this at our divorce hearing a few months later. The judge and the court stenographer couldn't stop laughing.) This came as a blow. My wife was in love with someone else, who was unattainable. That was why she had settled for me. I did look a little like him, and I could tell that often, when she looked at me, she was seeing him. Once Carlebach left for the Summer, we actually had two beautiful months together. I did pick up on some disturbing things, however. In Carlebach's inner circle, there was a special jargon. Words took on different meanings than their dictionary definitions. Most obvious was the word "holy". It now was synonymous with "feels good". (as in "that was such a holy pot roast"). Also, her friends, although ostensibly  Orthodox Jews, were mostly living lives of licentiousness and debauchery. (as in "It was such a holy thing that HaShem helped her find a new boyfriend who is so much better for her than her husband."). It became clear that the dark rumors about Carlebach were true. Everybody was sleeping with everybody, and it was "such a holy thing". I have been told by experts in Jewish Clergy Sexual Abuse, that there were more complaints against Carlebach than all other offenders combined. It is estimated that he had some one thousand victims. I urge you to do an online search. There was no doubt about it; this was a classic cult situation. I dreaded the coming of September, that would mean Carlebach's return. But come it did. My wife was off to Manhattan one night a week for a Carlebach class. She would return home the next day. I can't say that I wasn't suspicious. In the week between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, she discovered that she was carrying our child.  She called Carlebach, explaining that I was critical of him, and now she was pregnant. Carlebach did the unthinkable. He told her "get out fast". The day after Yom Kippur, she left. Not finding any place to stay, she came back a few days later for the first days of Sukkot. She made it clear that it was only a brief stay, as she had nowhere else to go. I spent those days in tears. She said "what a pity this is. You would have made a wonderful father". She left again on the third day of Sukkot, never to return. It would be twenty-five years until I would know my daughter. Just before Sukkot, I actually ran into Carlebach on Manhattan's Lower East Side, a once-bustling Jewish neighborhood. I approached him, asking how he justified telling a wife to leave her husband. Suddenly, it was no more "Holy Brother" but almost a hissing voice telling me that I was not worthy to criticize him, and that when he died, the angels would come and carry him to Heaven. He had left me with a huge gaping hole in my heart, that never completely healed. It all becomes fresh when I hear a Carlebach song, or read of a Carlebach Shabbaton, or see a new book come out of wondrous tales of this "saint". I would soon learn that I was not alone. He had left a trail of broken lives all over the country, and beyond. More of that next time.