B'halotchah: "Forcing" G-d to meet our desires

It is a conversation I will remember forever. We were in the midst of basic tank training, enjoying a brief respite from the grueling pace of maneuvers and marches.

The tanks were encamped opposite a training area where each tank would practice maneuvers designed to train the crews in the art of tank warfare under different conditions. While each tank, one at a time went through the maneuver, the rest of the company’s tanks and crews waited their turn, giving us all a little down time.

Uri Faraj was not actually in the armored corps; he was in the armaments corps (Cheil Chimush) and was part of the ‘chulyah’ unit attached to each tank battalion whose job it was to be on call for fixing things in the tanks that went beyond the expertise of a normal tank crew.

He used to like hanging out on our tank because one of the guys had a tape radio and Uri loved the music….

On this particular afternoon, Uri had finally gotten around to asking me a question that had been on his mind for a while: “What on earth are you doing here? If I had grown up in America, the last place on earth I would be is stuck in the middle of nowhere waiting for a tank maneuver!”

We got into a deep discussion about Zionism and somehow, the discussion veered to religion and mitzvoth, and eventually the topic of Shabbat came up.

My response was that as much as I could try and explain the concept of Shabbat and what I found beautiful about a Friday night Shabbat experience, it was something that could not be explained; it needed to be experienced.

As it happened, my brother and I were both betting out for Shabbat for the first time in a while…

“Why don’t you join us for Shabbat?” I asked. After some hesitation, he decided it might be a lot of fun, and agreed to come.

Our folks were still living in the States, and we used to have the most wonderful Friday night Onegs, with friends showing up through the evening. The singing, stories, and Torah usually lasted well into the wee hours of the morning on Shabbat, and I had a feeling this would end up being a transformative experience for Uri, who was clearly thirsty for meaning….

Little did I know that this was the last conversation I would ever have with Uri Faraj. In fact, it was the last conversation Uri ever had.