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Jewish World Review Jan. 7, 2002 / 23 Teves, 5762
JERUSALEM DIARIST
I was standing just footsteps from where the patriarch Abraham almost
sacrificed his son Isaac, and merely strides from where Jacob dreamt of the
famous ladder with angels ascending and descending its heavenly rungs, when
suddenly the low rumble of Muslim prayers from the Al Aqsa Mosque atop the
Temple Mount jarred me awake into an unsettling reality. The Western Wall is an apt
metaphor for the reality facing us today: Jews and Muslims cry out to G-d in
a discordant mix of emotion, while common ground is elusive and those of us
on the Jewish side keep one eye out for airborne rocks.
I left that day feeling very unsettled, and even more depressed. Yet time
went on, and like many Americans who have "braved the journey" up to our
land in the past 15 months of the intifada, the horrifying visions of
American media coverage on the Middle East slowly lost their hold on my
consciousness and heart as I began to realize how distorted those images
really were.
No, thank G-d, I am not dodging stones and snipers on my way to
the falafel stand down my street, and I don't have to check the fruit in my
local grocery store for explosive materials, as prime-time news might want
you to think.
I spend Shabbes, Sabbath, at in a variety of locations, from bustling cities like Petah
Tikvah to small communities like Nof Ayalon. My school takes us on tiyulim, tours,
involving everything from mountain climbing in the Galil, to a walk through
the valley of Mevaseret. I have ridden donkeys, kayaked, dressed in Bedouin
clothing to eat in a Bedouin tent, traveled to places mentioned in the
Tanach while simultaneously reading the actual stories of what occurred
there, and seen the remnants from vessels during the Temple period that were
discovered under our tour guide's house.
Where else but in Israel can you visit the sight where the oldest recorded
writing of a Torah verse was found in an ancient grave, and then look up to
see construction workers building a building right next to it? Everything in
Jerusalem is holy, even the office buildings.
Still, this is not to sugarcoat the situation. I had friends who experienced
the horror of the bombings that ripped through the center of town on a quiet
Saturday night just a few weeks ago. Friends of mine who are enrolled at
certain schools near places such as Gilo have heard the sounds of
helicopters and bombings many times, and friends of mine who take buses do
spend a significant amount of time with their heads turned over their
shoulders.
But you know what? Life goes on, and it goes on pretty darn well despite all
of this. After all, how could it not, when we are living in a place where
our rabbis tell us the air makes us wise, and where tradition states that we
gain reward in the next world for every four cubits that we walk? So despite
the attacks, on a day-to-day basis things appear to be very normal. That is,
except for the strange scenario that happens every day at our beloved Western Wall.
One Shabbes, I prayed at Yeshivat HaKotel, known for the best view in the
Old City, and I could simultaneously see droves of Jews davening the morning
service at the Western Wall and Arabs walking around the Temple Mount. All that
separated them was a wall, yet they were worlds apart.
Weeks later I arrived at the Western Wall at the start of the Muslim holy month of
Ramadan. Every item in my suitcase was checked as I went through security.
And as I entered the Temple area, hoards of fully armed police and soldiers
in riot gear commanded my attention as they prepared for any possible
violence due to the start of Ramadan. The next morning, it started raining
outside (a much-needed blessing in Israel right now) and in sadness I went
to the window of the apartment where I was staying to glance out at our
beautiful Western Wall.
What I saw right there, finally put all of my sadness and confusion to rest
at long last: Hordes of Jews were heading toward the Western Wall in a bright sea
of umbrellas to pray despite both the rain and the possible violence that
the beginning of Ramadan could engender. They continuously pushed forward
toward the Wall in determined droves as the torrents of rain beat down on
them. And it was then that it all became clear.
Yes, the Arabs have pierced our quiet slumber of peace of recent years and
jarred us awake. Still, let them throw at us what they may, let them barrage
us with their screams and prayers just yards away from our holiest place on
earth, but when it really comes down to it, nothing can or will keep us from
our our land and our beliefs. We are a people who have braved the rain
before, and who are not afraid to brave it again. And although we may be a
little weather-beaten after all this time, we are certainly far from beaten.
And it was then, as the sea of umbrellas became blurry in my view, that I
knew that despite all that has happened in the past 15 months, despite all
the terror that we have endured, Am Yisrael, the Jewish Nation, will prevail. Come rain or
shine, we will pull through ...
The Lesson of the Wall
http://www.jewishworldreview.com --
FROM my second week here it already haunted me. I had some time off from my
studies one day at the beginning of my year in Israel, so I hailed a cab,
rode through the streets of the holy city of Jerusalem, and found myself in
a matter of minutes at the Western Wall. It was a hot afternoon, around midday, and
I hurried to join the usual eclectic mix of Wall-goers who joined together
to pray.
Beth Pollack, of Skokie, Ill., is a graduate of the Ida Crown Jewish Academy and is spending this year at Michlelet Mevaseret Yerushalyim. She will be attending the University of Pennsylvania next year. Comment by clicking here.
