May We Be Forgiven

lulled to sleep by the ride and the wind in their faces. Nate, awake, seems unusually quiet.
    “You okay?”
    “What if it was all a fantasy, what if it’s not like I remember?” he asks.
    “It will be different,” I tell him. “Things change, you’ve changed, but whatever it is—it will be.”
    And we lapse into a long silence.
    “We’re here,” Nate shouts enthusiastically, as we turn onto a secondary road. As soon as the car stops beside a small group of buildings in the middle of nowhere, Nate jumps out.
    “Ninjani,” he says, greeting everyone. “Ngikukhumbulile kangaka! You have gotten so big,” he says to the children.
    “Ninjani,” I say, getting out of the car and helping Ricardo and Ashley climb out of the back.
    “I am Sakhile,” a man says, putting his hand out to me—he looks younger in person. “Welcome.”
    “Thank you,” I say.
    “We will take you to your room,” he says. “And then we must begin, we are off schedule.” He waves the printout that Sofia sent him.
    The village is smaller than I imagined, less a village and more a small grouping of about fifteen to twenty houses with dirt paths between buildings. Sakhile leads us to the school; others walk behind us, carrying our bags and watching from a distance, as though wondering who we are, that we are being treated so differently.
    “This is our school,” Sakhile says proudly, showing me a low building that looks like a suburban recreation center. “We set you up in here because the toilet is good.”
    “Thank you.”
    “I do not mean to rush you, but we must go quickly or we will miss sundown.”
    I catch a glance of the sheet Sakhile is holding—various elements have been highlighted in yellow, green, or pink.
    4:30 P.M. ARRIVAL
4:35 P.M. GREETING OF THE VILLAGE OFFICIALS
4:40 P.M. FAMILY SHOWN TO QUARTERS
4:45 P.M. WASH UP
5:00 P.M. PREPARE FOR LIGHTING OF CANDLES (SEE ATTACHED)
5:15 P.M. SABBATH BLESSINGS
6:00 P.M. DINNER

PLEASE PROVIDE BOTTLED WATER FOR THE FAMILY AND ENCOURAGE THEM TO DRINK.

    I had no idea how deeply orchestrated all of this would be—we are being handled like rock stars or heads of state.
    Ashley pulls a nice dress out of her carry-on bag and quickly changes. I go into the bathroom and wash my face and hands.
    “Life here is simple,” Ashley says. “I like it—it’s like being on a camp-out.”
    “Yes, but this is the way it is all the time,” I say. “The basic elements are the daily struggle. No one here is worrying about what college they’re going to get into.”
    “That’s good, right?” Ricardo asks.
    “It’s different,” I say, ushering the kids down the hall.
    At a table in one of the classrooms, they have set up silver candlesticks, a silver goblet, and a loaf of challah covered in a cloth.

The entire village is here, filling the room, eyes on Nate.
    Ricardo and Nate take their places at the front of the room and begin to sing “Lekhah Dodi” as Ashley walks down the aisle—draped in a white lace shawl and matching kippah, which I have never seen before.
    When the song is finished, Nate begins: “Thank you for inviting me and my family to celebrate this special occasion with you. My family doesn’t have many traditions, we are not very religious, so these traditions are really those of my ancestors. What I take away from the Friday-night service is the importance of pausing to take notice of each other, to give thanks that the week has passed and that we are still here—and, in the middle of our busy lives, to make time to connect with our families and our heritage. Mostly, I want you to know how glad I am to be here. I would like to introduce you to my brother, Ricardo, and my sister, Ashley, who is now going to light the Sabbath candles.”
    Ashley steps forward. “On the Sabbath we say three prayers, one while lighting the candles, one for the bread, and one for the wine. Tonight, in the absence of my mother, I will light the candles.”
    Everyone pushes closer to the front. All eyes are on Ashley, as if she is going to perform a magic trick. She lights the candles, then covers her eyes and recites:
    “Baruch atah Adonai, E1oheinu, melekh ha’olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu l’hadlik ner shel Shabbat.”
    Ricardo says, “This is the blessing for the bread: Praised are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, Who brings bread from the Earth.”
    “And the blessing of the wine,” Nate says: “Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melech