Almost every other morning I walk to the grocery store.

There are two ways to get there. One way is the steps through a neighboring building. The other is a hike all the way to the corner then around the corner to the next street and back.

Now the residents of the neighboring building prefer that people who don’t live there don’t pass through. It’s not a law written in stone but it is a request.

One day in a serious rush I exempt myself from the request based on the urgency of the moment. Just this time I tell myself.

I go down the forbidden steps and at that moment I feel a tremendous fall within myself.

Almost like a robber in the night.

I decide there and then never to take those steps again.

Sounds easy.

But every morning I pass that building those steps call. I find the most amazing reasons why I really should use the steps instead of going all the way around the corner. And every morning I have to remind myself that in this case the way to go is the long short road. It’s an inner conversation that lasts about a second and a half but nonetheless shows how prone I am to fooling myself. I make a resolve — those steps don’t exist.

It happens a lot of times in life.

Someone says to you “You know it really bothers me when you leave the milk out when you don’t dry your hands after you wash and when you leave the pretzel bag open.”

And it’s something you already know in your heart of hearts that when you leave the pretzel bag a little open you’re bothering someone because it’s a little inconvenient for you.

Someone asks not to call before 9:00 but you need them at 8:55. It’s just five minutes early you tell yourself but you know in your heart it’s not the truth. These five minutes might rob someone of their peace of mind but for sure you’ve robbed yourself of a little piece of dignity.

We once took a taxi. The driver began telling us all about the years and generations he and his family lived in Jerusalem saying “I am one of the stones of Jerusalem.”

On the way he showed us his old cheder his father’s old shop the parks he played in and the hospital he once visited. He points out “That was our home.” He talked about tasting the neighbors’ food on Erev Shabbos. How he could tell who a person was from the second they opened their door. The professor had a shelf filled with books of science. The rav had seforim and the tailor a sewing machine.

There wasn’t room to hide.

Then we passed a house where he said there was once a robber. “There weren’t many robbers in Jerusalem then. But there was one who had so much shame when he was caught he jumped out a second-story window and ran.”

I heard another story from my friend in Tzfas whose house was robbed. They had heard sounds and came downstairs in the middle of the night. They saw the robber but he flew out the door my friend’s son chasing him. As the robber was running he kept turning around yelling “Forgive me forgive me.”

He didn’t want to steal no Jew wants to. His robbing could have even started by taking the steps in a building whose residents requested not to. And at that moment he made no resolve.

This was part of the greatness of Reish Lakish his resolve. How he went from robbing people by night to becoming a tzaddik by peeling off layer by layer the falsehoods that led him to his lawlessness.

Many years ago the Amshinover Rebbe was sitting in his living room learning when he heard the sounds of someone coming through the third-floor porch window. The Rebbe turned to look and as the robber saw him and turned to run the Rebbe called to the robber “Wait wait is there something you need?”

When I heard this story I thought to myself rebbes see Jews not robbers.