ears ago, I had occasion to speak at a shabbaton for a Bais Yaakov high school, on some generic topic. After my speech, a student asked to speak with me privately. We found a quiet space and sat down. In fits and starts, with a fair amount of crying, she recounted that when she was about eight years old, she was at a friend’s house and they were playing on the computer. They were not alone in the house, but there was no adult supervision around. This girl’s parents were confident nothing inappropriate would go on at this friend’s house because, as she told me, her friend’s father was a rabbi. Her friend asked her if she wanted to see “something interesting.” A few clicks took her to a website with images and clips featuring the worst of the worst.

This girl — child, really — was overwhelmed. She was horrified but also fascinated, and then filled with shame for being interested. They watched for some time (five minutes? fifteen minutes? half an hour?) before logging off, and she’s never done anything like that since. But the images that were burned into her brain continued to haunt, confuse, and torment her eight years later. As an eight-year-old, she couldn’t begin to process what she had seen. She never told anyone.

I have no idea why she shared this with me. Maybe she felt I was an adult who could help her make sense of her feelings, and maybe it’s easier to open up to someone you don’t know, someone you won’t have to face every day. She was filled with guilt, completely confused, and angry at the adults who could leave two children unprotected.

Terrible story. Really a shame. Gut reaction: What were the parents thinking? Why didn’t they have a filter? Next thought: That would never happen in my house. My kids can’t get online without the password. They’re safe.

But it’s not just about kids, and it’s not just about viewing the worst. What about ourselves?

An interesting fact: Everyone’s personal standards are lower online. Most of us have fairly well-defined red lines we set for ourselves. We know what kind of content we allow ourselves to read in books, newspapers, magazines. We know what kind of videos and clips we choose to watch (or not watch). And yet when people go online, they often find themselves being drawn to sites, articles, and pictures that go way over the red lines they have set for themselves.

This happens partly because it’s just so easy to click, and so many images constantly appear while we’re online doing business or research, that it hardly feels like a choice. The medium of the computer also makes it feel less “real.” So you click the first time just out of curiosity, and then you go back because it was interesting. Even though you’re sliding quickly, you’re oblivious as your standards change.

And it’s not only about explicit content. There are clips and videos from our own community that started out with the (debatably) harmless goal of just giving viewers a laugh. Problem is, they’ve accomplished this by making fun of certain sects of religious Jews, promoting stereotypes, or mocking religious practice. These spoofs carry with them real issues of lashon hara and leitzanus, and they undermine our ability to grow spiritually, respect people who are greater than us, and relate to people who are different from us. That may be a bit more than you bargained for when you clicked “play.”