THE AGREEMENT

It begins like this:

Shema Yisrael, Adonai Elohaynu, Adonai Echod.

And then:

Baruch Atah Adonai, Elohaynu Melach Ha Olam, Shechianu Vetsivanu Vehiggianu, Lazman Hazeh.

And then:

Baruch Atah Adonai, Elohaynu Melach Ha Olam, Asher kidishanu, Beimitzvotzu vetzianu, Lechadlich ner shel This Day.

These are the prayers that I sing to call my grandfather. I’m not religious, wasn’t Bat Mitzvah’ed, didn’t (and don’t) go to temple. These are the words I use to call my grandfather because he asked me to. I sing the prayers and he comes. He comes,

I sing. The dead have as much need for us as we for them.

When he speaks to me, his words have a cadence and a logic not my own. That’s how I weed out the words that might come from my thinking mind. When my grandfather speaks to me, often I can see him. He’s facing me, a little to the left, next to my shoulder, just out of reach. He’s smiling. He looks expectant. Ready.

I am in the habit of asking lots of questions, especially when I need help. Today I wonder if there’s anything he’d like to ask me. He smiles that knowing smile and nods slightly. (As I write this, I have a fit of sneezes. In Africa they say a sneeze means the ancestors are with you, so instead of Bless You they say Thank You.)

It’s lonely here when you don’t talk to us, he says.

“Even dead?” I say. “You’re doing the guilt trip even when you’re dead?”

Not that kind of lonely, he says. A different kind. He pauses, choosing his words with care. Feedback, he says. You feed us, you make your offerings. We want to feed you back. He pauses again. It would go better for you if you let us tell you how you’re doing. Ask us from time to time.

I say, “Is it true that the ancestors need us and want us to talk to them, to ask them for help? Is it true they need our help cross over?”

He says, The silence we cannot cross. Our experience of life is for you. What use here? We see sharp stones we fell on. ‘Put your feet there, not there.’ All the love we could not give. Beads for you to string together. Look how beautiful. Collect them! Will you sing to us? Will you tap to us? We cook what you have not tasted. You will like it. Your mouth will fill with words from here. A life for nothing if not for you.