This past Shavuos night, I witnessed something that deeply disturbed me—and it wasn’t just the emergency unfolding on my block. A Hatzalah call had brought flashing lights and urgent voices into our quiet street. But as the dedicated responders worked to assist someone in distress, what stood out most was the crowd that quickly gathered. Neighbors poured out of their homes—still dressed in Yom Tov attire—watching the scene as if it were a public spectacle. Some stood and stared. Others whispered and pointed. One child even walked up to the very door of the house where the emergency was taking place, trying to get a closer look. The Hatzalah member on scene asked—not once, but countless times—for space, for privacy, for dignity. Those pleas were largely ignored. And I couldn’t help but wonder: Where were the parents? How is it that children were left to stand outside and treat someone’s pain like entertainment? How could any of us allow that? What kind of message are we sending to the next generation about kavod habriyos—about basic human respect? So I ask: Where’s the menschlichkeit in our community? Where is our sense of decency, compassion, and respect? At a moment when a fellow Yid was in crisis, we lost sight of what it means to be a true am kadosh. Hatzalah volunteers are not only first responders—they are sacred responders, dropping everything, even on Yom Tov, to save lives. The very least we can do is honor their efforts by giving them space and ensuring the people they’re helping are treated with dignity. We pride ourselves on being a community of Torah and chesed. Let’s make sure that our behavior—and our children’s behavior—reflects those ideals, both inside and outside our homes. Name withheld upon request  The views expressed in this letter are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of YWN. Have an opinion you would like to share? Send it to us for review.