Late Sunday night, Mrs. Bardish sees her husband distressed, and she doesn’t know why. She suggests that they take a walk in the hope that he’ll reveal his tension and ease up his burden.
Walking down the quiet streets in Eretz Yisroel, Mr. Bardish discloses his distress: He had grown up completely secular, knowing nothing about Yiddishkeit and having no pull to become observant at all. When he reached middle age, he started to feel something missing, but he couldn’t identify it. After researching religion, he started to gravitate to Yiddishkeit but didn’t know where to start. That Thursday, he had attended a shiur regarding shemiras Shabbos that very much interested him, but he felt that it was beyond him. There was no way he was able to jump right into it.
There was one idea that he was up to: saying “L’kavod Shabbos Kodesh” when buying items for Shabbos (see Mishna Berura 250:2). So that night, when he was at the store buying food for Shabbos, he’d said, “L’kavod Shabbos Kodesh.” But he didn’t just say it, he screamed it. The entire store was shocked from the thunderous “L’kavod Shabbos Kodesh” that nobody had been expecting. After seeing all eyes turn to him, Mr. Bardish rushed to the cashier, paid, and dashed out the door.
The next morning was Erev Shabbos, and he made his way to the fish market, again determined to follow his new conduct. He chose a good fish, and again thundered, “L’kavod Shabbos Kodesh.” He was embarrassed again when all the buyers eyed him, but he was happy knowing that what he was doing a mitzvah and that he’s doing the right thing.
Back on Track
However, the bridge came crumbling down the next Sunday morning. He attended a shiur from a Rav on the topic of derech eretz. The Rav went into how derech eretz not only applies to the interactions we have with people when dealing with earthly matters, but that it also applies when performing mitzvos. “They should be done in a derech eretz manner,” the Rav said. “For example, when buying fish for Shabbos, you don’t need to inform the whole city about your purchase. It should be done in a derech eretz’dike manner.”
Mr. Bardish was shattered. He knew exactly what the Rav was referring to. The Rav must have been at the store on Friday and had heard Mr. Bardish’s declaration. His only mitzvah was pulled from under the rug, leaving him completely bewildered. The Rav probably didn’t think that the “shouter” was in the audience, drinking up his every word, and that his “advice” would shatter the drive of a newly observant Jew.
Mr. Bardish disclosed all this to his wife on their walk.
Hearing his strain, she decided to bring him to the fish takeout at the end of the block, hoping that it would alleviate some of his distress and give him a new start. As they got there, they realized that they were carrying a mere 20 NIS, which would only buy them a meager portion, but whatever it was, it’ll suffice.
After they placed their order, the cashier showed them to a table and had them sit down while their order was being filled. After a few short minutes, the waiter came forth with a full-size fish board and placed it before them. They both looked at the waiter and explained that it couldn’t be their order. “We placed a 20 NIS order, not a 200 NIS one.”
The waiter explained that he was only following orders, and that all complaints should be addressed to the supervisor.
Expecting the quandary, the supervisor reassured Mr. Bardish and his wife that he was not mistaken, and that he could come over and speak to the owner after they enjoyed their meal. They did just that and were pleasantly surprised to hear the owner’s explanation of why he gave them such a lavish meal:
“Over the last decade, my religious observation was falling. I grew up Mizrachi, and when business started flourishing, my Yiddishkeit started fading. For the last few weeks, my wife’s been pressing me to start keeping Shabbos again, but I didn’t have the momentum. It was only after I heard your bolting ‘L’kavod Shabbos Kodesh’ last Friday morning that “Shabbos” was drilled back into my bones, and I once again jumpstarted its observance.
“Yesterday was the first Shabbos I’d observed in over a decade! The treat you got was not enough for what I owe you — you deserve even more!”
Hearing these words released Mr. Bardish’s stress. Hashem was showing him the outcome of his “small mitzvah” and the long-lasting effects of it. Yes, he learned that it shouldn’t be done in the manner he did it, but his actions were bearing fruit and that found him comfort. (Heard from Reb Reuven Elbaz)
We never know how far our seemingly small mitzvos can travel.
