It was around 3:45 p.m. on an Erev Shabbos, and Jack was on his way home from the army. Shabbos was to come in that week at 4:25, and Jack lived in Be’er Sheva. While standing at a trempiada (hitch-hiking station) near Netanya, waiting for a ride that would bring him a little closer to home, Shabbos was the last thing on Jack’s mind. He had been raised in a non-religious home, and Jack didn’t know much about Yiddishkeit.
A car pulled up, and its driver, Moshe, rolled down his window. “I’m just going to Netanya, but I’d be happy to take you there. Will it get to where you’re going? Where are you going to anyway?”
“I’m going home,” answered Jack. “I live in Be’er Sheva.”
“Be’er Sheva?” Moshe exclaimed in shock. “That’s over a two-hour drive. How do you expect to get there before Shabbos?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not religious,” answered Jack.
Moshe couldn’t just allow a fellow Yid to not have a chance to observe Shabbos properly. He had to do what was right. On the off-chance that the soldier would agree, he said, “Please come and spend Shabbos with me and my family. We have plenty of space, and the food is great.”
Jack, a bit taken aback, politely declined and began to move back to his position at the trempiada.
“Just try it. Maybe you’ll have a good time, or at the very least, an interesting experience. Just give it a chance.”
Jack vaguely remembered a time long ago when he’d spent part of a Shabbos with a religious family in Be’er Sheva who were friends of his parents, but he didn’t relish the thought of being cooped up in a restrictive environment. Besides, this guy was wearing a suit and black hat, and that scared him. To him, it represented the fanatic element of the Jewish people. On the other hand, maybe he would enjoy the temporary change in his life’s routine and an “interesting experience.” After thinking it over for a few seconds, and seeing that there were cars behind him waiting to move on, he ran around the other side of the car and jumped in while throwing his duffel bag in the trunk.
On their way to Moshe’s home, they introduced themselves. Jack seemed to feel comfortable with Moshe, despite his dissimilar appearance.
Toward the end of the Shabbos, Jack had to admit that it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. There was something nice about the family setting: the food, the songs, the lively discussion, and the restful atmosphere. When it was time to go, Jack thanked his hosts and said his goodbyes to the family.
Though happy to have been able to provide his “brother” with a brief glimpse of what being a Jew is all about, Moshe was still not totally content. He needed to do more to keep this spark he’d ignited burning within Jack.
“Before you go, Jack, I have one request:”
“I appreciated this Shabbos very much. What can I do to repay you?”
Pulling a Kitzur Shulchan Aruch off the bookshelf, Moshe handed it to Jack and asked him to pick one mitzvah that he’d be willing to do every day. He realized this request might be too much, but he had to try.
Once again taken aback, Jack didn’t know what to think. He looked askance at Moshe, but he began to flip through the pages of the book. He came to the beginning where it says that a person must don his right shoe first, then his left shoe, then tie his left shoe, then his right one. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Is this what Jewish law is all about?” he thought to himself. As strange as it sounded, he wanted to oblige his host, and this seemed like a simple thing to do. “OK,” answered Jack. “Here’s my mitzvah.”
Moshe took Jack’s phone number so that he could “follow up” later and see how Jack was doing.
A few weeks later, back on the base, Jack’s jeep was about to leave the base to begin their nightly patrol on the Lebanese border. Jack had just woken up and had thrown on his clothes, ready to go, but then he remembered that he’d forgotten to put his shoes on the way he had been doing for the last few weeks. He asked himself whether it was worth holding up his patrol to do something he didn’t really understand why he was doing it, but he was a consistent person in everything he did in life, and this little “project” he’d taken upon himself was no different.
“Wait a minute,” Jack yelled to his patrol mates. “I forgot something in the tent.”
Jack ran back to his tent, took off his shoes, and put them back on as quickly as possible — this time properly. When he came out, he realized that the patrol hadn’t waited for him. He was upset at himself for causing the rest of the guys on his patrol to have to go without him.
Ten minutes later, while sitting in his tent, a ruckus was heard in the command post. He ran to see what was happening. The radio operator reported to all present that patrol Almog-8 — the patrol Jack was supposed to be on — had hit a land mine. All his friends had been killed.
So, while he was a hairsbreadth away from falling at his mission, the shoelace did all that difference. All because of his minimal kabbalah, he was spared that tragic ending and gifted the most valuable gift — life. (Excerpted from TMC)
What may seem to the naked eye to be that much small may not be so small after all.
It can be life changing.
And that’s all from one shoelace.
