Let’s just say that it was a far cry from the homecoming he had envisioned. In fact, the reality that awaited him probably could not have been further removed from the warm and fuzzy dream. of welcoming smiles and hugs, a delicious home-cooked meal, a hot shower, and eventually snuggling into his own comfortable bed.
He had been away from home for two solid months, virtually the entire summer vacation. And while he had not suffered in the least, he had sorely missed his parents and single siblings, in other words, home. He had stayed with his oldest sister and her family, and they had all welcomed him lovingly and treated him royally. She had prepared wonderful dinners every night, washed his laundry, and cheerfully cared for his every need.
His day job had been fabulous as well; he was the star counselor in an upscale local day camp, beloved by campers and staff alike. And, as an added bonus, he had earned a respectable salary and collected a windfall in tips at summer’s end.
His Shabbosim and downtime had been happily spent visiting his other married siblings and basking in the unabashed adoration of his doting grandparents. All in all, it was a fantastic summer in every respect.
And then came his return flight back home to the Holy Land.
Months earlier, he had managed to find a reasonable summer airfare, a rare feat indeed at that popular time of the year; but his flights in both directions included lengthy layovers. Then his connecting flight from Paris to Tel Aviv was delayed an additional hour. Sad to say, in retrospect, those apparent setbacks can be categorized as the relatively good news.
It was only when he finally touched down on the much-missed holy soil of Eretz Yisrael that everything began to rapidly spiral out of control.
Truthfully, he (and his parents) were not totally taken by surprise; there had been some clues along the way that could have, and perhaps should have, alerted everyone to the very real possibility that this may happen. I suppose they were either naive, overly optimistic or both – or his family may ostensibly have ostrich-like tendencies. In any case, despite the many advance warning signs, they were admittedly in a state of utter shock and denial when the inevitable came to pass.
At age eighteen-and-a-half, he had already received multiple draft notices, and had likewise reported to the draft office any number of times. His two older brothers had spent a couple of years post-high school learning full-time in yeshiva, and then enrolled in a newly established chareidi hesder yeshiva which allowed them to continue learning limudei kodesh intensively, while it simultaneously prepared them for army service and eventual entry into the workforce.
He had just completed a very successful and enjoyable year in yeshiva in Yerushalayim, and was looking forward to returning for another rewarding year of growth and pleasant social interaction. Or not.
Unfortunately, since the yeshiva program he had chosen is geared almost exclusively toward chutznik high school graduates who elect to study in Eretz Yisrael for a year or two before college, the administration had neglected to register him with the army and obtain the required deferral. And, in a case of undeniably bad timing, the draft office sent a letter requiring him to appear in the draft office and be officially drafted during the time he was AWOL in the United States.
That volatile convergence of circumstances was later determined to be the catalyst for what came next.
When he arrived, exhausted and bedraggled, after midnight, his ID number was flagged at passport control and he merited an escort usually reserved for visiting dignitaries. However, the two personable, kippah-clad military men were not there to ensure his safety so much as to accompany him straight from the airport to a military recruitment center!
His bleary-eyed father was not able to change the orders or even obtain a postponement; he was only allowed to briefly hug his beloved son and take his suitcase home with him, not the weary traveler himself. The latter was instead whisked off to a holding cell in a military facility in Ramat Gan, where he spent the night along with a handful of young IDF soldiers, and (not surprisingly) did not manage to sleep a wink.
The following day he was scheduled to appear before a military tribunal and state his case for leaving the country without permission and missing his appearance at the draft board during his unauthorized absence.
He was also issued a spiffy army uniform and pair of boots, plus a free buzz cut. All of which he would have been more than thrilled to forgo.
B´chasdei Hashem his trial went well, ostensibly because he pleaded ´dumb American´ and was believed! So instead of chas veshalom the worst-case scenario, being sentenced to military prison, he was free to return home that night, but ordered to report back bright and early the following morning to receive his official assignment.
His family nearly fainted when he walked through the door, looking handsome yet unfamiliar in khaki green. But they welcomed him with open arms and then peppered him with non-stop questions.
It was no longer an option for him to attend the yeshiva he had studied in the previous year. Under the circumstances, his best-case scenario now involved receiving the army’s permission to join the same chareidi hesder yeshiva as his brothers. Even that, however, was now a long-shot.
All his siblings, uncles and aunts were asked to daven for a positive outcome, while concurrently different avenues were explored to facilitate the desired result. Baruch Hashem he was given leave to spend Shabbos with his family, but he had to again report back to base on both Sunday and Monday, with the very real possibility of beginning a month of basic training at that time.
Again, with much siyata diShmaya, he was finally granted permission to attend the hesder yeshivah program, and defer his actual army service for another two years.
So, nearly a full week after his eventful return, and less than a full week before the new zman was slated to begin, he was belatedly welcomed back to his well-loved and much-missed home, sans the dizzying drama that had defined his journey thus far.
On the lighter side, they had decided not to include the grandparents in the ongoing rollercoaster of events, in the hope of sparing them the stress and concern that the rest of them were suffering on a daily, if not hourly basis. So when they invited one grandmother to join them for Shabbos, they were far from certain that their youngest son would even be home. In any case, they swore the rest of the children to secrecy.
Bubby noticed her grandson’s unusual choice of haircut as soon as she walked through the door late on erev Shabbos.
¨Why such a short haircut?¨ she inquired.
Without missing a beat, and much to everyone’s dismay, his brother answered for him, ¨That´s the army for you!¨
Bubby’s hearing is quite poor, however, and she apparently missed that loaded reply. But, when she returned home after Shabbos, she mentioned the puzzling haircut to her younger daughter, surmising that her grandson had probably chosen that unusual style to fit in better with the brother-in-law with whom he had spent the summer!
All of the above heart-stopping, humorous, and stressful scenarios together comprise a fairly accurate microcosm of the kaleidoscope of experiences and emotions that define our life in the Promised Land, (for better or worse) our true home sweet home.
