There’s a house down the street from us for boys who are called peguai nefashos which means hurt or damaged souls. Some call it crazy.

The boys there are between the ages of 20 and 25. These boys are not religious. The government sets up these work and living situations for them.

I see them everyday when I walk down the street. They’re sitting on the porch walking to a bus stop or just smoking a cigarette. Their loneliness is … Only clichés can describe it. It screams out calls surrounds envelopes. I talk to the cleaning woman who works there. Sometimes she sits there too. And you can’t pass a house twice a day and not say anything.

So one day I invite them all over for a Shabbos meal.

At first they don’t believe me inviting a house full of boys to come over and eat for no real reason. They think I must be crazy.

But they say yes.

Friday night comes and they arrive at our door wearing the fanciest clothes they have white jeans and button-down shirts. They are carrying the biggest bouquet of flowers. A wedding bouquet. I can’t tell them we don’t touch flowers on Shabbos. So I show them where to lay the bouquet of every colored flower inIsraelwhile taking note how their yarmulkes the silky kind they hand out at non-religious bar mitzvahs seem to match every flower.

I look forward to serving them the deep-pink salmon I chose especially for them.

We make Kiddush and wash and they are so happy not the kind of contained happiness but an all-out stumbling fumbling innocent unshielded kind.

One boy tells us he’s a baker.

Another works in a laundromat putting the clothes in and out of the dryer.

One stocks shampoo bottles at SuperPharm.

The baker explains how he makes football-field cakes. The others immediately chime in and tell us how amazing his cakes are. And how amazing he is. And he just takes it all in sitting there with his bright striped yellow shirt and a big Jewish star around his neck.

Then another boy tells us about the one who works in the laundromat and how he takes out clothing so quickly and efficiently. And they all talk about how they never saw anyone take out and put in clothes and work as hard as he does.

And then the boy who loads the laundry tells us about the one who stocks the shampoo bottles. How he gets up early every day and takes the bus all the way to the other side of the city and how he’s so proud of him. And how he’s so proud of himself because everyone said he could never do it.

And one wants to get married and have a family.

One boy suddenly gets up covering his face with his hands. He looks for a place to hide — something has hurt his feelings. He finds the side room and goes inside. Three of the boys follow him trying to coax him back. After about five long minutes he comes back to the table.

And I think how each one reminds me a little of someone and everyone and how I’d also love to disappear into a back room when I get embarrassed or get my feelings hurt.

And they want to say all the prayers and sing all the songs. With such awe and joy.

I think about how I’m seeing right in front of my eyes a small piece of that moment when at the end of days things will turn upside down and those on the bottom down here will be on the top up there.

How the worst day of our history Tisha B’Av will become our most joyous day.

And all I think about for the rest of the meal for the rest of the week and maybe for the rest of my life is who’s crazy?