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Jerusalem 1994: I left
Israel after 5 years on kibbutz and returned 17 years later in the
summer of 1994. I found that my biggest regret while I was away was not
getting to know Jerusalem better when I lived in Israel. I hadn’t been
religious then and I had no profound memory of contact with the Kotel
(Western Wall). My only memory was of standing on the other side of the
plaza and seeing it accross that distance.
In 1994 I
was determined to make up for the past. My first day in Israel I made my
way to the Wall, through the Old City's pushy merchants and sleazy
would-be guides. My mind toyed with the fantasy: "I'll be here for 5
weeks "Maybe I'll go to the Kotel every day, why not?" That first day
was very hot and I was physically uncomfortable wearing a tallit katan
(undershirt with ritual fringes) under my clothes. I had purchased it
expressly to use at the Kotel, since women are forbidden by Israeli law
to wear regular tallitot (prayer shawls) at the Kotel.
I finally approached the smooth stones on the women's side after waiting
for a space to open up. I stood there, wanting to pray and just
couldn't: it was just too hot, too crowded, too hectic. The air was full
of energy that just wasn't conducive to my prayer. It was supposed to be
a big moment, but it wasn't.
My other
experience of davenen (praying) at the Kotel was with the Women of the
Wall: a group which started out a few years ago davenen with tallitot
and reading from the Torah at the Kotel. Both chairs and obscenities
were hurled at them then, and later the law was passed which forbids
women from wearing tallitot, reading from the Torah and praying together
as a group at the Kotel.
For Rosh Hodesh Elul (New moon gathering in the month prior to Rosh
Hashana), the Women of the Wall group was large, some of the regulars
said. When we gathered we were told that this would be an Orthodox
service: nothing that required a minyan of 10 men would be included. We
were also reminded to keep our voices down. Thus we davened, standing
huddled together about 10 yards distance from the Kotel. I could hardly
hear the voice of our Ba'alat Tefillah (Prayer Leader), but suddenly I
could hear, quite loudly, a woman's voice in English scolding us "Don't
you know the men can hear you? They aren't allowed to, you know very
well..." and on and on.
After the first part of the morning prayer service, we went as a group
across the large plaza, up many stairs to a courtyard where we finished
our service. We sang with full voices the Hallel (a special collection
of psalms sung on holidays and at the new moon), read from the Torah,
and finally blew the shofar (ram’s horn). After quietly whispering at the
Kotel, the group had come alive: strong, intelligent women praying from
their hearts and singing God's praises as if we were ‘free at last.’
I was
invited by the group to officiate the Torah service, easily one of the
biggest honors in my life. Quite likely this was as close as I would
ever get to the Kotel with my tallit and tefillin (phylacteries usually
worn by religious men) and by then I was willing to settle for the
memory of that beautiful Hallel and Torah service.
Before
Hallel, I noted a few black-hatted, black-clothed men watching us from
an archway. I’d experience a man grabbing a scroll out of my hands
before (in Canada), and I feared that our Torah might be forcibly taken
from us. Someone said she thought they'd leave us alone. They did.
In the
cartoon Peanuts, Lucy always entices Charlie Brown to kick the football
while she steadies it for him. She always grabs it away at the last
minute and laughs at poor, trusting Charlie Brown. I didn't go back to
the Kotel. I was afraid to be disappointed. It was a painful realization
that for me there were no spiritual highs to be had in the face of
institutionalized disdain.
I never thought that I would thank God that I live in the Diaspora. Even
though I cry every time I leave Israel, I seem to bloom much better
planted here in Vancouver. My ‘lech l’cha’ (‘go out’ as God said to
Abraham or more literally ‘go to yourself’) directs me to do my work
here.
There is always an invisible thread that ties me to Israel and makes my
breath catch hearing its name in a newscast. I now pray for the State of
Israel with renewed kavana (intent): "May it be your will, Source of
strength for all God-wrestlers, that balance be found in your holy
places. May we all see past the false boundaries of gender and sect and
learn to value and cherish one another. Lets all say: Amen."
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Last updated: September 4, 2008