Sweet Talk
It was a Shabbat when I was about six years old. After the tefillah was over, all the congregants went home, and I was left alone with my friends. One of my friends thought of playing a prank. He walked over to the tzedakah box which contained a few coins and began emptying it. I was shocked at his deed and cried out, “Shabbat!”
My friend was alarmed by my shouts. But after calming down, he began convincing me, with his slick tongue, that I should join him in this dastardly deed. He whispered in my ear that with all the money we would take, we could buy lots of treats.
Slowly but surely, I was drawn after his words. The thought of all that nosh did its magic. Together, we made our way to the charity box.
“What are you doing there, you little imps?! Gezel!!” thundered a voice behind us. It was none other than my father, who had noticed us from the window of our house, next door to the Beit Hakeneset. My limbs trembled as I fled from the fire of sin and humiliation.
Until this very day, my ears reverberate with the cry of “Gezel!!” Father’s scolding sank deep into my heart and produced permanent results. Since that time, I have a constant fear of anything smacking of theft.
