The Most Meaningful Shabbat Dinner
They arrived one after the other.
We spent Shabbat in Ra’anana at the home of our children. Our grandson Eli had come home from his base in the middle of the week, only to be called back on Thursday and then released again just before Shabbat.
The messages from our daughter-in-law Dahlia reflected the emotional roller coaster. First she was elated, then disappointed, and finally relieved and happy once again when Eli walked through the door.
I suppose it is like a wildfire among a circle of friends when word spreads that Eli is home.
His best friend J. did not need an invitation. He simply walked in and sat down at the table. He is considered family.
For the past three years he served in a tank unit. During the war he often appeared on Shabbat carrying his heavy weapon. He would eat a little of the Shabbat meal and then collapse on the sofa, his gun resting beside him, exhaustion serving as his blanket. He was a soldier running on empty.
But this Shabbat was different.
His face was relaxed, his smile easy. He seemed ready to embrace the world, enjoy it, and simply be a young man again.
The next friend arrived while the main course was being served.
B. is still serving in a unit responsible for identifying fallen soldiers through fingerprints. He spoke about his work with remarkable calmness, almost as a fisherman might explain to a novice how to catch a salmon. Yet the seriousness of his task lingered beneath every word.
As he spoke, his blue eyes remained fixed on the water glass he slowly turned between his fingers.
Another soldier arrived while I was helping in the kitchen to prepare dessert.
“Let’s place the apple crumble on this colorful serving plate,” I instructed J., who by now felt like another grandson and was always eager to help.
The newly arrived guest never revealed his position in the army, and we completely understood. Young Israelis selected for certain assignments undergo extensive testing and carry immense responsibility. They know from the very beginning that discretion is part of their duty.
A large platter of watermelon, cantaloupe, and grapes was placed in the center of the table when a young couple entered the room.
Within minutes, everyone around the table raised their glasses in celebration.
“What is this all about?” I asked our son Chaimi.
“They got engaged a few hours ago,” he replied.
The young couple had already completed a year and eight months of engineering studies at university as part of their military service. Now they would spend an additional two years serving as engineers on an Air Force base.
The room erupted in smiles, blessings, and good wishes.
One by one, the guests departed.
At one in the morning, the last visitor left, and I helped Dahlia with the dishes.
Perhaps because I do not live permanently in Israel, these young soldiers left such a profound impression on me.
To our Israeli family, this was simply another Shabbat. To me, it felt extraordinary.
There they were, young men and women carrying enormous responsibilities, speaking little about themselves, praising Eli generously, and conducting themselves with such humility and modesty.
Not one of them sought attention.
Not one boasted.
They simply came home for Shabbat.
As I stood in the kitchen drying dishes, I found myself reflecting on the remarkable generation sitting around that table. Young people studying engineering, defending their country, carrying secrets they could not share, celebrating engagements, helping serve dessert, and laughing with friends.
For a few precious hours, they were not soldiers.
They were simply young Jews around a Shabbat table, surrounded by family, friendship, and the warmth of home.
