A Heart Transplant

The disturbing scandals of the last months have engendered various questions: Should one read — even maintain in his home — books written by someone who has evidently been guilty of perpetrating many serious crimes against women and children? Is taking one’s own life ever permitted, or is it ipso facto an act of insanity? How do we tell our children about this, and should we alert them to the dangers that lurk in the street, and if so, how do we do this without destroying their natural sense of trust in others?

There are no easy answers — not even difficult ones — but transcending all questions is one overarching one: How can an observant and learned Jew, who dons tefillin every day and maintains Shabbos and kashrus, behave this way? Does not the Torah make one a better person? Does not exposure to holiness transform us into more spiritual people?

Hillel’s admonition in Avos 2:5 comes to mind: “Al taamin b’atzmecha — Do not believe in yourself (i.e. trust in your ability to resist temptation) until the day you die.” That is, a human being — even a Kohein Gadol, as the text reminds us — remains human, subject to all temptations of the flesh and of physicality, and to the enticement of abandoning the discipline of serving the One G-d. Even the wisest of men, King Solomon, was entangled by many horses and wives despite explicit warnings in the Torah.

The prophet Yirmiyahu says it all in one seminal passage that encompasses all of human nature in seven words. In 17:9 he declares: “akov halev mikol , v’anush hu, mi yeda’enu — the heart is extremely ‘akov,’ and beyond cure; who can know it?” That key word “akov” is often translated as “deceitful,” but that does not do it justice. It bears many other meanings: complex, crooked, intricate, twisted, devious, convoluted, subtle. The heart is not just one of these things; it is all of these things. Indeed, “Who can know it?”