Years ago, I was in Tzfat, sitting on a rooftop of an institution for kiruv called Ascent. One night, I was speaking to several students, when a yeshiva bachur approached me and asked if he could talk to me. “Sure,” I said. He then went on to relate a personal story. Friday afternoon, during the hours before Shabbos, his yeshiva spends time visiting one of the nearby army bases, where they motivate and inspire the soldiers. They provide them challah for Shabbos, put teffilin on them, and share with them some words of Torah.
Yet, after some time, this yeshiva boy realized that since the army base was so close by, it would be a nice idea if he could visit the soldiers every day during the week when he had a lunch break. He would be able to put tefillin on the soldiers who didn’t have tefillin and provide them with some words of encouragement and inspiration. And so he did. For the past few years, he said, he has gone to the army base every day and become close to many of the soldiers.
One commander, however, despite the boy’s many friendly overtures, never reciprocated in kind and returned the pleasantries. “Not long ago,” said the boy, “I approached him and asked if he wanted to put on tefillin. He declined as usual, but then he added that he would be willing to make me a deal. If I would never again approach him to put tefillin on, he would put tefillin on just this once. However, after this one time, I would need to stay away from him, and he would never, ever put tefillin on again in his life.
“This was my dilemma,” the yeshiva bachur told me. “Would it be worthwhile to take him up on his offer and put tefillin on now? On the other hand, if that happens, I will never be able to try and teach him about Judaism and positively influence him again. Perhaps it is worth forgoing the opportunity to put tefillin on him now, given this latter consideration.”
The boy decided that now was the time or never, and he went on to accept the commander’s deal. The man put on the tefillin and said Shema, after which he said, “Remember? Never again in my life! Never again do you come back here! Enough!” Alright, figured the boy. What’s done is done, and that was the agreement.
The following day, the boy returned to the army base, and his conscience began to unnerve him. “Maybe I did the wrong thing,” he wondered. “I can never walk over to him again. One time of wearing Tefillin, and I now sacrificed this man forever. Maybe it was wrong.” But the boy kept to his word, and attended to all the other soldiers except this man. “At the end of the week,” continued the boy, “the commander called me over. He took hold of the tefillin in my hands and began putting on the tefillin.” The boy said nothing, but merely observed how the commander put tefillin on and said the Shema.
Afterwards, the commander said, “You’re probably wondering what happened. I didn’t forget my end of the deal, but I’ll tell you the truth. I watched you for the last few days, and I noticed how broken-hearted you were that you couldn’t come over to me. I saw the pained look in your eyes that wished you could approach me. Once I saw that, I realized that you were being genuine the entire time. I understood that you were coming to the army base and going around from soldier to soldier for no other reason than wishing to inspire your fellow Jews. I thought that I was merely another project of yours. But as soon as I saw how sincere you wished to come over to me, I understood that your intentions were pure all along. You really did care about me. You can come now to me every day; from now on, I’m going to put tefillin on every day...”
