Mishneh Torah (Laws of Human Dispositions 6:8) teaches that while we rebuke another person, it must be done privately and in gentle language. Public shaming, Maimonides (Rambam) rules, is a grave sin.
And yet, public shaming is precisely what has unfolded this week in Atlanta’s Jewish community — and I am heartbroken.
Our Atlanta Jewish Film Festival, whose mission is to inspire diverse communities to new levels of social and cultural understanding by showcasing entertaining and thought-provoking Jewish film, fell short this year. Mistakes were made. That much is clear. During the days leading up to the opening of the Festival, several well-intended attempts failed to reach a satisfactory resolution. And “the show must go on.”
Once the festival was underway, patience ran thin, and instead of committing to a path of constructive engagement, members of our own community — including individuals who claim and aspire to leadership — took to social media and news outlets to air their grievances. The Festival’s missteps (and yes, there were several) became fodder for vitriolic, divisive, and even threatening rhetoric.
Most painful of all, some turned to tactics drawn straight from the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement, calling for boycott and divestment from our own Jewish Film Festival.
How is that community-building?
I will not stand by while my community hurls burning stakes at an institution that has helped tens of thousands explore the Jewish experience each year for 25 years — nor at its dedicated leader of two decades and the hardworking staff, of which I was a part.
I am a stakeholder.
Yes, we are living in a post–October 7 reality. Emotions are raw. Boundaries feel existential. Many reactions are fueled by a sincere and protective instinct for our people. But self-righteous outrage — even when well-intended — is not productive, it’s not leadership, and it’s not the Jewish way.
A previous generation of Atlanta’s Jewish leadership understood this. Leaders like Erwin Zaban and Michael Kay of blessed memory acted as senior statesmen and would have called those involved into a room, looked them in the eye, and insisted on honest, direct conversation. They built institutions. They strengthened community. They did not destroy it in the public square.
Dialogue and thoughtful deliberation will resolve this challenging moment.
The Atlanta Jewish Film Festival has long known how to convene conversation. So let’s have one.
As Rambam teaches: privately, respectfully, and with soft language.
We are family, after all.