the western wall

[cellio]

I'll return to chronological order later. Today we visited the wall, and that deserves an entry of its own.

I wasn't really sure what to expect at the kotel, the main plaza in front of the western wall. As I wrote before, on Friday we visited a different section of the wall and, while it was nice, it didn't really move me.

I guess I expected to have an intellectual/historical experience today. I don't believe that the wall is religiously special; I am convinced that God hears my prayers just as well in Pittsburgh as in Yerushalayim. For the same reason, I'm not the sort to leave a note in the wall. Some people get fervent about the wall, and sometimes I've thought they go too far, bordering on fetishism or even idolatry. It's a historially and nationally significant place, but, well, at some level it's just a wall. I should clarify that I was not (and am not) at all hostile; I just didn't really get it.

We had some time for private reflection, and I went down into the women's side. (The mechitzah is excessive, and I noticed several women standing on chairs looking into the men's section.) I ignored the mechitzah and focused on the wall. Near the center there were three soldiers -- with hair uncovered, by the way -- praying quietly and intensely. I of course don't know what they were praying, but it struck me that most of us probably don't have call to pray for our lives like they probably do. The pictures I took (respectfully) probably don't convey their mood very well, but I tried.

A space cleared up down near the far end, so I went up to the wall. It's quite tall, so from close up it really does tower over you. It was too late for shacharit and too early for mincha and I didn't have any texts with me, but I silently recited the one psalm I could do completely from memory (150). (While writing this I realized I also know Ashrei, which is mostly (I think) psalm 145; didn't think of it at the time.)

And then I touched it. And that's when it hit me. I felt a strong, emotional connection. It was overwhelming, and it completely surprised me. There I was, touching the western wall, staring at all the notes cramming every nook and cranny, and I felt this connection with something bigger than myself -- history, God, the nation of Israel, I'm not really sure.

Epilogue: As I walked back from the women's section into the main plaza, an older black-hatter -- long white beard, peyot, serious appearance -- looked at me and said "welcome home".

I wonder if first-time-ness shows in people's faces, to the experienced eye.

Comments

[cellio]

Probably unmarried, yes. I'd gotten the impression that women in general were expected to cover their hair at the wall. Who'd know I'm married if my left hand wasn't readily visible? Or is the presumption that anyone old enough that she ought to be married should wear a scarf? (I wore one to avoid offense, not because I believe it's required of me.)

[magid.livejournal.com]

I didn't get pushed to put a scarf on, and I was definitely old enough to be married.

To the best of my knowledge, the "rules" are the same at the Wall as anywhere else for heads being covered, but it's more likely that there will be 'frum police' encouraging head covering for those who would traditionally be required to do so, but don't otherwise.