The conversation will often begin with the sentence, “You know who we have to invite back…?” And invariably, I won’t. I won’t know who she’s thinking of because the family in her mind had us for a Shabbat meal in the late 1990s. There has been no contact at all for 24 years, but when they bump into each other at KosherWorld, my wife is sure that something is a bit off. Hours later, thankfully, she works out what it is.
We owe them an invitation.
Even though it most likely had nothing to do with it.
Shabbat meals might seem simple, but they are anything but. They are a game of ping-pong that once started, never ends. So much so, that couples still invite people they knew in the 1990s that they had little in common with even then.
A virgin invitation might be tempting and even a good idea at the time, but can trap the unsuspecting into an ugly loop of back and forth that can persist for generations.
Then there’s the challenge of time compatibility. Whereas some families consider a successful meal to be one that ends on Friday night at about 21:30, others would consider it a failure unless the guests stumble out at close to midnight, and only after having spent at least 30 minutes prior to departure at the front door begging to be set free. So that they may get home, traumatised, and rock themselves to sleep in a foetal position.
Or maybe that’s just me.
There are those who serve tea and cake after grace after meals, and there are those who hand you your jackets before the prayer books are closed.
But worse than anything are the meal non-starters. They are the ones who remember that a salad still needs to be made, or insist on showing you their third son’s wedding album before the meal can get going. They walk this earth as though time is limitless, and with the arrogance of those who don’t for a moment even consider that G-d might call them or their guests to “home” before they have had time for a whisky with two cubes of ice. Let alone a glass of tap water.
Shabbat lunches present their own challenges. A sudden afternoon thunder shower might mean guests who never leave and who will stay until three stars brighten the evening sky. And maybe then will stay for a quick bite before being wedged out of the front door and into the now idling car.
There but for the grace of G-d go any of us.
Hospitality is a good thing. Abraham and Sarah taught us this. But considering the fact that he entertained three days after his circumcision, it should be a reminder to us that the pain can be real.
I have no idea if the woman in KosherWorld is expecting an invitation. What I do know is that she’s likely to receive one. And for generations, our children’s children will be wondering why they have to keep inviting her children’s children to their son’s Barmitzvah.
