Every so often we hear a story about a public servant who falls from grace – falling also from a respected position he held in service to his country. Senator John Edwards is the latest politician to confess to having an extramarital affair.

He seemed to have it all – integrity, money, a loving family, prestige, perhaps even a place in the next president's cabinet. He had been a champion of the poor and an all-around good guy. What happened? What was he thinking? Was he thinking at all about his actions and their consequences? Did he think even for a moment about the effect his behavior would have on his wife and children when they found out? And why would he risk everything – his reputation, his credibility, his family's trust, his career in public service, and his self-worth? Why would he take a gamble on losing it all when he knew that as a public figure he would be constantly scrutinized by a gossip-hungry media?

Why do we human beings toss our intelligence and integrity out the window when we say, "I know I shouldn't but . . ." and then go ahead and do it anyway? Is it simply a matter of self-indulgence – making decisions based on our desires and emotions in spite of what we know? Is it just a lack of self-control? Or short-sightedness? We know the hazards of smoking while we continue to smoke. We know that obesity causes all kinds of health problems and we continue to overeat. We know that having an extramarital affair can destroy our lives and we do it anyway. What lessons can we learn from Senator Edwards' unfortunate experience that can help us build into our children a strong moral compass. How can we teach them to act wisely, to become aware of how their behaviors will affect others, and how can we make doing the right thing as natural as breathing? I am reminded of all the righteous Gentiles in Europe who hid Jews in their homes from the Nazis. When they were asked why they risked their own lives and the lives of their families, sometimes for total strangers, every one of them replied without a moment's hesitation, "It was the right thing to do."

How do we create an atmosphere where doing the right thing is natural and where it is natural to do the right thing? Most of us know what is right to do. We know eating healthy food is better than eating junk food. We know exercise is better than endless hours of watching television, and we know finding real satisfactions in our lives is better than taking harmful substances like drugs and tobacco and alcohol. If we make these wise choices, we will make them acceptable to our children by filling our homes with laughter and affection and strong relationships built on mutual respect. What's right for the children is right for us, so we'll have to be good role models. And when children do the right thing, they ought to be admired for their strength of character.

Is any of this realistic? Doable? Easy? Yes, Yes, and No. Yes, it was realistic for the thousands of Gentiles in Europe under the threat of death to do the right thing. It was their belief system and their way of life, and their conscience and spirit of generosity that made it possible. While it would have been so much easier, and safer, to turn their backs to the plight of the Jews, or turn them in, these righteous individuals gave them shelter and food and expected nothing in return. Yes, it was doable because they chose to do it against all odds. And no, it isn't easy. What's easy is not doing the right thing. What's easy is indulging ourselves. What's easy is not caring.

How we handle our children's or our own mistakes makes a critical difference in whether they will continue to value doing the right thing. We are, after all, going to make mistakes. But by dealing with our errors in judgment honestly, and with understanding and compassion and forgiveness, we make it possible for our children and ourselves to return to the right path.

And finally, there are rewards for doing the right thing: a feeling of worth, of high self-esteem, of knowing you are being the best you and your children can be, of putting into this tired old world a spirit of generosity, of caring, of goodness, and bringing upon yourself the good will of all the men and women and children whose lives you touched..