Every Thursday at eight in the morning I would drive to Beit Dagan. A half-hour drive that felt like four hours. Hating every meter and every tree on the way, but equally recruited for the mission. I was truly convinced – I could be straight.

When I arrived, I sat down on the balcony. There was always a line there. The common denominator for everyone was: illnesses. Everyone came to ask for a blessing for a full recovery.

The first time, he drew a large rectangle on paper in front of me with a line in the middle. "On the right are the righteous and on the left are the wicked," he explained, and asked: "Which side do you want to be on?" I remained silent out of fear. "The answer is clear, I can see it in your eyes," he said.

But it was also clear on which side I wanted to be on and I listened to the instructions. Not to achieve satisfaction in any way and to divert my thoughts. I was up to the task.

On the second and third visits and the ones after, we switched to a different method. "I see that everything is fine with you," he half announced, half inquired, and when I answered in the affirmative, he would write things on a small piece of paper, fold it in four, hand me a glass of water, and let me swallow the paper. I held the folded paper in my hand, and swallowed it without thinking twice.

These meetings took place once a week for a little over two months. Until that time when I failed the task. When I arrived, he immediately recognized it. "Why did you do that? Do you want to go over to the wicked?" I really didn't want to go over to the wicked.

I returned home and became depressed. For me, there were two options: stop living or leave the rabbi. Luckily, I chose the right option.

Two years ago I arrived at a family event in Beit Dagan and asked to confront him. "Leave your nonsense," they tried to calm me down. "What does it matter now, the main thing is that you live the way you want."

The next day they called to tell me he had been killed in a car accident. I swear to you that even though I had a belly full of notes about him, I didn't run him over.

Originally posted on Eran's Facebook profile