Everyone called him Yossel the Ganef (Thief). He was a true professional at his craft and every home in the shtetl merited a visit at some time or another.
One day, Yossel and some cohorts decided it was time to go for bigger game. They designed a scheme to rob the treasures of the local church in middle of the night. Yossel was chosen to climb through a window while his buddies served as watchmen outside.
Just then a guard passed by and noticed something amiss. Terrified, Yossel’s friends disappeared into the dark night, leaving Yossel alone. The guard notified others and soon Yossel was trapped inside. He was caught red-handed.
The crime was deemed a most serious one and Yossel was swiftly sentenced to death.
The day arrived. The entire town came out to witness the burning at the stake.
Moments before, the priest approached Yossel and announced that he had mercy on him and wished to save his life. If Yossel would agree to convert his life would be spared and he would be a free man.
Everyone stared in silence.
“No!” shouted Yossel. “I will never convert. I, Yossel the Ganef, transgressed many sins. But I was born a Jew and I will die a Jew.”
Yossel was killed. On his tombstone were engraved the words, “Here lies Yossel the Holy Ganef.”
*
I often think of this story when I read this week’s parsha, Naso.
It speaks of the Sotah woman, who is suspected of adultery and is given an opportunity to prove her innocence.
The Talmud teaches that even the Sotah woman – who ignored a formal warning by her husband never again to be alone with her suspected lover – would not sin but for a ‘spirit of folly’ that enters her. Same with all of us, says the Talmud. We would never do wrong were it not for some meshugas that possesses us at the time.
Left to our natural devices we won’t ever breach the will of our Creator. Our neshama (soul) is a part of G-d and cannot fathom separation from its source. It sees every sin as suicide.
The problem we face is that we forget that every sin severs our bond with G-d. Or we simply convince ourselves that this sin is different. It’s not so big; I’m justified this time; it’s just one time. The list of excuses goes one.
But these excuses, explains Rabbi Schneur Zalman in Tanya, are only a result of the ‘spirit of folly.’ They are not the real me. Were I to stop myself, allow the moment to pass, evaluate the situation properly and let my divine soul participate in the conversation – I would never sin.
Yossel rarely denied access to the ‘spirit of folly’ – except when it mattered most.
Hopefully, Yossel’s story will inspire us to remember that there really is no such thing as a ‘small sin.’ Every sin disconnects us from our source. And every mitzvah ignites an infinite bond.