Bringing G-d home, finding Him in all details

It was only a fraction of a moment of my time in the army, but it was a lesson I never forgot, though to this day I am undecided as to whether I agree with it.

I was desperate to get a day off; we were still in basic training, and my folks were landing at the airport the next afternoon.

It was Thursday, which was the best possible day of the week for a tank crewman to get extra leave. Thursday was “Tipul She’vui” day, which meant the weekly servicing and cleaning of every last inch of every tank, top to bottom. In the Israeli army, there are no special maintenance crews that tag along to service the tanks. Add to that the fact that my unit was meant to get out for Shabbat (Friday morning after inspection), and special leave on Thursday would mean a pass all the way till Sunday, and I was desperate to get the day off.

This was why I was standing at attention in the glaring sun, waiting for my sergeant to return with the answer to my properly formatted request for a special day’s leave. Afraid to dream in case I was disappointed, I couldn’t help myself; visions of a hot bath, a night out on the town, and a real bed with clean sheets swam before my eyes.

The sergeant came out of the command tent a few minutes later, and I was shocked to see he actually had a smile on his face — I had never seen the muscles in his jaw work that way before — and then the one word I had been waiting for: “Be’seder” (“O.K.”).

“Be in your dress uniform at 0800 hours, and your extra day’s leave is granted.”

I couldn’t help myself; a huge grin spread across my face, and I felt like dancing, and then that one terrible word escaped, the one I still remember: “Todah.” (“Thank you.”)

I could tell I was in trouble as soon as the words left my lips; his eyes changed first, then his entire face, and then the glare we all feared, the one that meant you were about to get a serious work-out.

“Mah Zeh?” (“What’s that?”)

Although I did end up getting out, albeit a good few hours later than I had hoped, I never worked so hard for a pass in my life. You see, in the army, you don’t say thank you.

After running around the base seven times singing “Lo’ Omrim Todah,” “Todah Al Kol Mah’ She’Barata,” and every other song with the word todah in it that I could think of, they finally let me go, but the message would stay with me forever.