“He touched the socket of his hip, and the socket of Jacob’s hip became dislocated as he wrestled with him.” (Bereishis 32:26)

On a simple level, one assumes that the prohibition of eating the gid hanasheh, the sciatic nerve, commemorates Yaakov’s injury.

Yet Rav Tzaddok HaKohein  of Lublin (Tzidkas Hatzaddik) takes this further, establishing a tenet for life: Everything that affects a person in his life has a spiritual impact as well. The prohibition against eating the gid hanasheh therefore isn’t there simply to help us remember Yaakov; it’s because there’s something inherent within it that’s harmful to Klal Yisrael. (Rav Yisroel Reisman, Shiurim al Chumash)

Flying with kids is always an ordeal. (Contrary to passengers’ opinions, it hurts the parents most of all.) Years ago, I was expecting my third child and flying by myself with two little ones. (What was I thinking?)

I boarded the plane full of blind optimism and bags of goodies. An hour later, I was a frazzled mess. We were crammed into two seats, my oldest enjoying her own, while my toddler teetered precariously on my late-stage pregnancy lap. Neither child was inclined to sleep or enjoy the many treats and games I’d packed. I finally stuffed all our paraphernalia under the seat in front of me and resigned myself to ten more hours of happily-ever-after storytelling. I prayed my trip would end similarly.

When I was a bochur, I had a friend named Shia Eisen a”h. Unfortunately, he had leukemia, and back then, there were few treatment options. As he was homebound, I learned with him, Maseches Eiruvin. We came across the Rishonim who mention the episode of the Sandal Hamesumar (which appears in Shabbos 60a.)

One Shabbos, Jews were hiding from the Romans in a cave, when a rumor erupted that the Romans were approaching. In the ensuing panic, people were trampled to death, as the style then was to wear “sandal hamesumar” — shoes with spiked soles. As a result of this incident, Chazal made a gezeirah that we may not wear spiked or cleated shoes on Shabbos.

The mother who dragged herself off the airplane was not the same woman who’d boarded so eagerly a mere 12 hours before. I was probably obligated to bring a korban before my return flight, because I may have sworn I’d never fly again.

But there’s nothing like home. Within an hour of my parents’ hugs and nachas, I decided that although I’d been the korban, the trip was worth it.

Shia asked, “Why make a gezeirah connecting the shoes with Shabbos? This could’ve happened any day of the week!”

Shia’s father, a talmid of Rav Aharon Kotler, shared his rebbi’s explanation. There are many gezeiros of Chazal that seem overly cautious. But Chazal didn’t make this gezeirah because they were afraid of future deaths on Shabbos. Rather, if an unfortunate incident with spiked shoes occurred on Shabbos, Chazal understood this combination isn’t good for Klal Yisrael.

I was beyond exhausted when I began preparing my baby’s bedtime bottle. Then it hit me. I’d stuffed all the food under the seat in front of me. The man occupying that seat had slept most of the flight. I knew that for a fact, since he spent any time awake complaining that my kids were keeping him up.

There’s a halachah that prohibits eating food that someone slept on top of, but surely an airplane was different. My toddler began to wail for her bottle. What could be wrong with a few scoops of powder?

Barely coherent, I found my father and conveyed my predicament. He called the rav, with me gesturing in the background, “The formula was sealed! And it was a day flight!”

“The rav said it’s better to buy new formula.” My father offered to go to the store. The time the errand took seemed to last longer than the entire flight, as I futilely tried to defuse my baby’s tantrums. I glared at the offending cans of formula, right there for the taking. What was a little bit of tumah anyway? I couldn’t even see it!

I suddenly remembered a book I read as a kid explaining how antibiotics work. The illustrations were incredible. Armed Antibiotic Armies went to battle against Beastly Bacteria, waging a war inside our bodies.

Feeling suddenly stronger, I soothed my baby until finally she was sleeping with a fresh bottle, one free of any doubts or dangers. I drifted off myself, dreaming of battles, bottles, and the secret formula to success.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 671)