Monday, April 20, 2020

I'm surprised when a group gathers for afternoon prayers. We hadn't tried yesterday, since there were too few men in the office. Now, an insurance man from down the hall has appeared, as well as a dentist from downstairs. One of our regulars who had been working from home is here. Another worker who joins in if we need the numbers comes over. I get the prayer books and yarmulkes and put them at the entrance to the office. We gather just outside, in the hallway. We count the men without using numbers. There's a taboo about that. We have nine of the needed ten. People call others who sometimes join us, but none of them are around. As we're about to give up, a young man with a close-cropped beard emerges from the restroom, carrying a box of cleaning supplies. "Brother!" someone calls out. "Afternoon prayers!" The man frowns. Someone else says, "Just stand here with us for five minutes, OK? We have people who need to say the mourners' kaddish." He nods and puts down the box. Someone gets him a prayer book and yarmulke. We move through the prayers quickly, as usual. In this slightly different space, after a week away, I find that my rhythms are off. When we're done, the young man picks up his box and wanders away. Most of us head back into the office. Looking around, we don't know if there will be enough of us again tomorrow.