Last week, in a Brooklyn federal courtroom, something alarming happened—something that should concern anyone who values freedom of thought, speech, or religion. An American prosecutor stood at the podium and sought to criminalize not conduct, but belief. Not hate speech. Not incitement. Not yelling ‘fire’ in a crowded theater. Not threats. But spiritual teachings. Philosophical ideas. Expressions of surrender, consent, and healing. The very kinds of teachings that are constitutionally protected—even when they are provocative or unpopular.
At the center of the case are Nicole Daedone and Rachel Cherwitz, former leaders of an organization called OneTaste. The group promotes a practice known as “Orgasmic Meditation,” a blend of mindfulness, intimacy, and self-awareness rooted in an unconventional spiritual framework. The Department of Justice has made this about some dark sex crime, raising claims of prostitution and sexual abuse, but charged them not with actual forced labor, but with a single, unprecedented count of conspiracy to commit forced labor—absent any underlying offense. It appears to be the first time in US history such a charge has been brought in isolation.
In addition, there are accusations that the FBI investigator used stolen privileged material, which is now the subject of a Congressional inquiry, and prosecutorial misconduct, attempting to use a perjurer and her forged diaries as government evidence.
On May 7, a constitutional red flag was raised in open court—and quietly missed by most of the press, who had left the courtroom by that point. In full disclosure, I represent OneTaste and feel compelled to raise the alarm. What unfolded was not simply a legal skirmish, but a moment of reckoning: are we now prosecuting people for how their words make others feel?
“They are criminalizing beliefs and thoughts and teachings and philosophies,” said Jennifer Bonjean, counsel for Daedone. “This is not about conduct. It’s about how someone talks, what they believe, and how someone else felt about it afterward.”
Celia Cohen, representing Cherwitz, echoed that warning. The government, she argued, is attempting to put spiritual exploration itself on trial—by repackaging ideological expression as coercion.
The prosecution did not deny it. In fact, Assistant U.S. Attorney Kaitlin Farrell openly argued that Daedone’s teachings were central to the case. Her words, Farrell suggested, created “the psychological aspect of how the labor is forced.” In other words: belief overrides will. Philosophy becomes pressure. Speech becomes crime.
That’s precisely what makes this case so dangerous.
Imagine applying this standard elsewhere. Could a rabbi be prosecuted because a congregant later regrets a spiritual decision? Could a priest or imam be charged if a follower claims they were emotionally influenced into celibacy or tithing? Could a religious teacher face prison because their sermon inspired someone to change their life—and later feel discomfort over that choice?
In Judaism, we understand religious pluralism not as a luxury, but a necessity. Ours is a people of many traditions—Orthodox, Hasidic, Reform, secular, mystical. We do not always agree, but we share a sacred commitment to freedom of conscience. We know from history what happens when governments begin to police belief under the guise of protection. And we know how quickly spiritual exploration can be reframed as manipulation—especially when viewed through a cultural or ideological lens.
The First Amendment exists to stop that slide. It protects belief. It protects ideas. And it protects the unpopular, the fringe, and the strange. To criminalize a teaching because it is emotionally powerful is to criminalize persuasion itself. It is to put religious and spiritual speech on trial.
To be clear: this is not a defense of OneTaste’s practices. It is a defense of principle. The principle that our justice system does not punish people for their ideas. That the courtroom is not a place to litigate belief. And that freedom of expression means very little if it dissolves the moment someone says, “I felt uncomfortable.”
If this prosecution succeeds, the precedent will reach far beyond this Brooklyn courtroom. It will reach into our classrooms, our synagogues, our counseling offices, our spiritual retreats—and yes, our homes.
Because if belief itself becomes evidence of a crime, then none of us—not the devout, not the curious, not the unconventional—are safe.
