“See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil”, is an English translation of an ancient 5h century BCE Confucian proverb. It is visually depicted on a carving above the entrance to the 17th century Tosho-gu shrine in Nikko, Japan, consisting of three monkeys who, in turn, cover their eyes, ears, and mouth. The original intent of the phrase and the carvings was to teach prudence and the importance of avoiding evil. Over time the proverb has been picked up by the West – and has been regularly featured in movies, books and art. When I first heard the phrase as a young boy, the interpretation was not so much about avoiding evil, but turning a blind eye to it.
Which these days is nearly impossible to do, despite the fact that every religious tradition I know of, in similar ways, confronts evil and provides pathways for avoiding it. We are flooded with images of evil. We see and hear evil acted out in Gaza, Ukraine, and other places around the world. We hear people speaking malevolence – which is the intent to do evil to others – on countless platforms. We witness, and perhaps participate, in the mind numbing and heart hardening cycle of pointing fingers and ascribing blame to sources of evil. Some even go so far as to say certain individuals or groups are inherently evil, which then provides justification for dehumanization, if not genocide.
No wonder we want to turn a blind eye to evil. It is too hard to fully see or hear – and too tempting to speak, especially when the fear and resentment index is at the highest level any of us can remember. And evil is disorienting: not only is it threatening, but identifying evil distorts our notion of having the world we live in be a safe place. Evil undermines that.
And then there is the evil that happens behind closed doors, which many want to expose, and perhaps even more don’t want to see. Not my business. Don’t want to know. For the past year or so, so many of us have been gripped by the unrelenting saga of the Epstein files, which purportedly tell the story of what happened on a private island or an upper East side mansion between privileged men and underage girls. Some of us want to know what happened and who was involved, and others of us want to keep the door firmly shut, or dismiss it as older men acting out their teenage fantasies. Much of it has become an ongoing political football game pitting offenses and defensive against one another.
Most of the energy around the reporting, legislation and lawsuits is about who was involved, and what they did or didn’t do. All of which is important. But in my mind there are two important dimensions of these stories that require our attention. The first is that evil took place. Underage girls were trafficked. Many were duped, some were drugged – and more than a few were raped. Evil behind closed doors. The other is that those who joined in the various parties and escapades organized by Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislane Maxwell were insulated – sealed off from the rest of society — by their wealth, their academic prowess or their political connections. Some of them came simply to hobnob and network with other members of what is now called the Epstein class. Others knowingly and willingly participated in evil. Sorting all that out is a daily drama involving the media, the courts, and political brinksmanship.
What is also being exposed in this sordid, tragic and evil unfolding is their presumption that when members of the Epstein class gather behind closed doors they are released from humility, accountability and vulnerability. Not only is the presumption that they will be protected because of their privilege, but they figure that those who have not been invited through the closed doors are willing to turn a blind eye to what goes on – they are the elite after all – and if there is a whiff of suspicion of evil, they have boundless resources to retain lawyers, hire influencers and browbeat investigators to help keep them in their protected status.
Unraveling the story, releasing the files, and exposing the evil – and those involved, needs to continue. As is the need to challenge any system which seeks to close doors in order to escape accountability, deny vulnerability, and dismiss humility.
There is another story which serves as a counterpoint to the Epstein saga. It is the birth story of Jesus that will be retold and reenacted on December 24. It is a story of vulnerability, given that he was a newborn baby and completely dependent on the love and care of his parents, but immediately after his birth he became even more vulnerable as the new family had to flee to Egypt in order to escape Herod’s wrath. hey were refugees. Three decades later during his-three-year ministry, Jesus opened as many doors as he could – to lepers, Samaritans, prostitutes, poor people, the sick, the oppressed – ongoing demonstrations of humility, which he invited his followers to follow. He confronted evil, but repeatedly indicated that while people did evil things, no one – no one –was inherently evil, a message we would do well to embrace. And while some would say that Jesus made himself accountable by dying for our sins, I would argue that he was committed to holding religious and political systems accountable to injustice, challenging people to be accountable to the love they should bestow on one another through compassion and mercy, and creating a vision for hope and freedom.
Jesus saw evil, experienced evil – and directed people away from it by breaking down closed doors and opening hearts. His commitment to building a beloved community not only protected people from evil, but helped send it into exile – leaving more space for humility, vulnerability and accountability.
