The Book That Saved His Life: The Seconds That Changed Everything

I’m not a mystical person. But when things happen in a sequence that is both logical and completely illogical at the same time, it is hard to call them ordinary.

I discovered the depth of Judaism almost by accident. After the army, I spent a wild six months traveling somewhere on the other side of the world—the darker, stranger side. I returned to Israel only to save a little more money before setting off again. Both of my parents are academics and liberals. They gave me room to find myself, but they also wanted me to eventually get back on a practical path and start studying.

That trip had done something to me, though. I did not feel ready to settle down and study like a normal person. Instead, I looked for a job with unusual hours that would fit the life I wanted at the time. I was offered a security position in what was supposedly a sensitive office building, and my military background gave me an advantage. In reality, there was little action and almost no risk. The security was largely for appearances, the salary was better than average, and most of the work was boring. It suited me perfectly.

The Book That Started Everything

During the mornings, the building was relatively busy, with people constantly coming and going. By evening, however, it became deserted and painfully quiet. Those were the hours when the interesting conversations began among the guys working my shift.

That was where I met Roi. He was several years older than me, a genuinely good person and someone I am still honored to call a friend. We worked many shifts together, and I came to see him almost like an older brother. Roi had already been through quite a bit in life, and his view of the world was steady, sharp, and direct. I loved hearing his opinions. When my thoughts became tangled, he had a way of untangling them in just a few sentences.

Over time, I realized that Roi had begun a process of becoming more connected to the Creator, Torah, and mitzvot. He started listening to Torah classes and sometimes played them during our shifts. I saw how much he enjoyed them, and eventually I began listening too. He never pressured me. I was simply curious about something that clearly meant so much to him. And yes, sometimes boredom has a way of leading you into places you never expected to go.

I was almost jealous of him. He listened with such passion, with a light on his face. Me? I did not see any lights. Some of the ideas sounded intelligent and interesting, but I certainly was not bursting with excitement.

Then came the books.

I began noticing unfamiliar books in Roi’s locker, different from anything I had seen in ordinary bookstores. He called them sefarim, holy books. During every break, he would disappear into a corner, take out one of them, and begin studying with intense concentration.

One quiet evening, after I had finished making my rounds and repeating every task I could possibly repeat, I saw him studying again. Something about it caught my attention. This did not look like just another hobby.

“What are you reading?” I asked.

“Shaarei Teshuvah,” he answered.

Roi explained that he had begun studying with a haredi avreich through an organization that connected learning partners. The avreich had suggested that he spend ten minutes each day studying the book, and Roi loved it. “There’s a lot of depth in it,” he told me.

“I got the message,” I joked.

But Roi did not laugh. “Heaven forbid. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s something amazing. If you’re interested, you have to try it.”

I was not sure I was ready to study with a bearded avreich from a haredi city. It sounded a little too intense for me. But I asked to look at the book. I flipped through the first few pages and did not really know what to make of them, yet something drew me in. An unexpected curiosity had awakened.

So whenever Roi and I worked the same shift, I sat beside him during our break and asked him to explain short passages in his own words.

That book won me over.

Suddenly, I began looking at my actions through a different lens. Things I had previously taken for granted began to carry different meaning. I realized that I could not remain where I was, suspended somewhere in the middle. I had found the end of a thread, and now I wanted to follow it back to its source.

Before long, I had my own chevruta with a warm, friendly avreich. In our very first conversation, I knew exactly which book I wanted us to study: Shaarei Teshuvah.

My restless energy gradually found a new and genuine direction, and with it came a sense of calm and stability. I began studying for a degree, as my parents had hoped, while continuing to listen to Torah classes and participate in Jewish programs on campus. Through it all, Shaarei Teshuvah retained a special place in my heart.

The Interview I Couldn’t Be Late For

After graduating, I began looking for work. The market was flooded with young graduates just like me, so I moved from temporary project to temporary project, accepting whatever opportunities came my way while searching for the right position.

Eventually, I was invited to interview for a job I really wanted. It was interesting, productive, and offered excellent conditions. I passed the phone interview and the test, leaving only the final and most important interview.

I wanted that job badly. It seemed to fit me perfectly, and I prepared extensively. Above all, I prayed.

That same day, I had a chevruta scheduled to study Shaarei Teshuvah. It was supposed to take place after the interview, so I took the book with me and placed it in the back of my car alongside my bag.

Then, almost as soon as I reached the main road, traffic stopped.

There had been an accident only minutes earlier, and I had no idea how long I would be stuck. I had deliberately left early, but the minutes kept disappearing. With each one, my anxiety rose. What would I tell them if I arrived late? What kind of impression would that make at the most important stage of the hiring process?

After about half an hour, I finally escaped the traffic jam. I still had another 30 minutes of driving, and the interview was in 35 minutes. That gave me approximately five minutes to park, get out of the car, find the right building, and reach the correct floor.

I arrived—and discovered that the entire parking lot was full.

I broke into a cold sweat. I drove farther down the road until I noticed an unofficial parking area covered with rocks and weeds. A few other drivers had apparently had the same idea. I parked there, with a large SUV positioned in front of me on a small mound of sand.

I jumped out, opened the back door, grabbed my bag, slammed the door shut, and locked the car.

Then I realized something.

In my rush to grab the bag, Shaarei Teshuvah had apparently fallen upside down.

One of the things I had learned was the importance of treating holy books with respect. I stopped for a fraction of a second.

I need to turn the book over.

Immediately another voice answered: Are you crazy? You’re already late!

For a split second, the two thoughts battled inside me. The interview mattered enormously. Every second mattered.

But in the end, I decided: I’m turning it over.

I unlocked the car, opened the back door again, leaned inside, and turned Shaarei Teshuvah upright.

I was just beginning to straighten up when—

BOOM.

The Seconds That Changed Everything

The force threw me backward.

I lifted my head and froze. The huge SUV that had been parked ahead of me had rolled down the incline and stopped against my open car door. The door was completely crushed. From where I was sitting on the ground, the vehicle looked enormous.

The driver jumped out, white-faced and trembling.

“Are you alive?!” he cried. “I was sure I killed you.”

For some reason, the SUV’s brakes had failed and it had begun rolling downhill. By the time the driver regained control, it had reached my car.

I stood up. I was shaken, but completely unharmed.

Then I understood.

The SUV had been parked at an angle that placed the entire exposed area beside my car directly in its path. If I had simply grabbed my bag, locked the door, and hurried toward the interview, I would have been walking through that exact space when the SUV came rolling down.

But I had gone back.

I had opened the door and leaned inside the car because I wanted to turn over Shaarei Teshuvah.

Had I not done that, I would have been standing directly in the vehicle’s path, with nothing between me and the massive SUV.

I began trembling as the realization sank in.

Hashem had protected me.

Suddenly, everything I had been learning took on a completely different meaning. It was no longer only an idea in a book or something discussed during a Torah class. In that moment, it felt tangible.

You protect what is Mine; I protect you.

Then reality hit me again.

The interview!

I was now seriously late, covered in dust, with a crushed car door behind me and an unbelievable story to explain.

I gathered myself and started running. Yet strangely, the anxiety that had consumed me before was gone. I prayed that everything would work out, but as I hurried toward the building, I kept thinking about the book—and about the One who had protected me only moments earlier.

I explained my lateness to the secretary and went inside.

I was no longer afraid.

More than ever before, I knew that I was in His hands.