Chapter 24

If you don't know where you've come from, it's hard to know where you're going.

"Have you ever been to the Western Wall?" I ask Avi in the morning when we wake up.

"Many times. I got my Bible during my army induction ceremony there."

"What's it like? Rabbi Glassman told me it's super mystical and spiritual."

Avi sits up, and I think how unfair it is that someone can look so good in the morning. Of course he doesn't have to worry about bed-head because his hair is so short.

He rubs his chin pensively.

"Well?" I say, urging him to respond.

He puts up a finger. "Yeah, urn, it is spiritual. I'm not orthodox, but I definitely feel closer to God when I'm there."

I narrow my eyes. "So what's all the chin-rubbing about? Don't you think I'll be spiritually moved there?"

"Definitely. But..."

"But, what?"

Avi scratches his head. "But it's got a mechitza. You know, a partition, separating the men from the women."

"I'm okay with that. Rabbi Glassman said it's tradition in more religious synagogues to separate men and women so they can concentrate on praying and not each other. If you're with me, I'll definitely be distracted."

"And you're okay with it even if the men's side is four times the size of the women's?"

Think positive, Amy. "Um, sure."

"And women aren't supposed to pray out loud."

"And men..."

"... pray out loud," he says, wincing in anticipation of my reaction.

Truth is, I'm okay with it. I'm going with the flow. Even if I don't observe all of the Jewish rules and traditions, I respect the people who do.

"We have time this morning, if you want me to take you there.

We'll be backtracking a bit, but it's okay."

"Really?"

"Sure."

"What time does it open?"

"It's always open, Amy. Come on, let's get ready so we can get back to the base on time. Make sure you wear something that covers your knees and shoulders. No tanks or shorts."

It doesn't take long before we're showered, dressed, and heading back toward Jerusalem.

We park a few blocks from the Western Wall. The scenery mixes the old with the new. When we come up to the Wall, the big ancient stones stacked one on top of another reach out to the sky.

I breathe in slowly as I take in the scene. There's a big area farther from the Wall where people can walk, but if you want to go closer, there's a partition.

Directly in front of the Wall, people are praying. The men bob up and down, deep in prayer, facing the Wall. Women, on the right side of the partition, pray just as fervently (albeit more quietly) on their side.

"Jerusalem was destroyed nine times," Avi explains as he covers his head with a small, round kippah. "But through it all, the Kotel survived."

Kind of like the Water Tower that survived the Great Chicago Fire, which started when Mrs. O'Leary's cow kicked over a lantern (although that historical fact has been hotly debated by the descendants of Mrs. O'Leary). Nobody debates the fact that this wall has been here for three thousand years.

"They say God is here, right?" I ask Avi. Because I'm feeling the enormity of the Wall and the attachment my Jewish ancestors have to it.

"It's the holiest of holy places for us. That's why, even when you're in America, Jews pray facing east--toward the Wall. Even in Israel, no matter where we are, we pray facing Jerusalem and the Wall. Open up and pour your heart out to God here, Amy." Avi hands me a small piece of paper and pen.

I tell Avi to go to the men's side while I head to the women's. I look up at the Wall, its chalky yellow boulders neatly stacked one on top of one another. Each boulder is as tall as my chest. The closer I get, the more I see little pieces of paper wedged in between the cracks of the stones.

Don't ask me why tears come to my eyes when I'm a few inches away from the Wall. I feel my faith getting stronger here, especially when I think about the Jews being forbidden here as recently as 1948, when Jews could only view the Wall through barbed wire. In the Six Day War, Israeli soldiers fought and died for this wall.

It makes me feel privileged just being here.

Reaching out, I touch the Wall. The ancient stones are cold, even though it's hot outside. For thousands of years, my ancestors prayed here. In the future, I hope my children come to Israel and feel this wall, considered "the gate to God."

I scribble my prayers on the paper, words to be shared only between me and God. In my head, I say the She'ma, the holiest Jewish prayer. She'ma Yisrael! Adonai Eloheinu! Adonai Echad!

Hear O Israel! The Lord is our God! The Lord is One! and squeeze my paper inside a crack between the boulders.

I look over to the men's side and spot Avi. He's in his military uniform, touching the Wall with his hand and forehead, deep in prayer. The scene touches my heart.

God, take care of him, I pray silently. Because he's my past, and my future.

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 671