"There are people with hearts of stone. There are stones with human hearts"

Western Wall Excavations at Robinson's Arch (Just Below the Kotel)

For the past few years every time I've come to Israel I've had a difficult time dealing with the significance of the Kotel, the Western Wall. On the surface level, I have a problem with the fact that the women's prayer area is a fraction the size of the men's. That, in and of itself, makes me uncomfortable. Going a little bit deeper, I wonder at Judaism's focus on The Wall. What makes it such a focal point, to an almost psychophantic degree?

I vaguely remember my first time at the Kotel. I was twelve, and here on a UJC (now UJA) family "mission" the summer before my Bat Mitzvah. We went to the Kotel on Friday night for Shabbat. We first had Shabbat services down at the Southern Wall in the Archaeological garden - because that was where men and women could pray together. At the time, I didn't realize that was why we were there, I just assumed it was less crowded and easier to get a group as large as our's there. After the Shabbat service we went to the Kotel itself, men on one side and women on the other. I remember the impressiveness of the "Wailing Wall," and the security check that we had to go through to get in. I also remember the soldiers warning us not to take pictures, because it was Shabbat... but other than that, I don't recall much of the experience.

In January of 2005 I returned to Israel on a Birthright trip. Our first night in Jerusalem they took us directly to the Old City and the Kotel. There is nothing like the Kotel at night. I remember being led through the Jewish quarter, jet lagged, disoriented and in amazement by the fact that I was, finally, in Israel again. I remember turning a corner and all of a sudden, the golden Dome of the Rock loomed in front of us, the Kotel below. For a moment I was completely overwhelmed by the sight. This was THE place. The place that we face when we pray, and the place that generations of my ancestors faced when, and if, they prayed. We descended the steps that led from the Jewish quarter into the Kotel, went through the security check, and were face-to-face with the Holiest of Jewish sights: the Western Wall. I was instantly drawn towards the wall. I remember standing in the Ezrat Nashim, the women's section, not quite knowing what to do: how to act, what to say, where to stand, etc... After a hesitant moment with the Wall (not with God, mind you... but with the Wall) I walked back up to the top of the plaza where our group was to reconvene. As I sat there, I noticed the enormous difference in size between the men's and women's sections. I felt the tears well-up at the injustice, the sense that my prayers are less meaningful, less relevant, and it made the visceral and powerful experience I'd just had seem less so. That summer when I returned to Israel to study at the Hebrew University, I did not even return to the Western Wall, as I'd promised myself I would in that one moment the previous Winter. I went to the Kotel once, but didn't venture back into the Ezrat Nashim, nor did I even give my attention to this, our holiest site. The initial tug that I'd felt that moment in January was snuffed out by the anger I felt whenever I thought about the tiny Ezrat Nashim.

These past few weeks I've had many an encounter with the Kotel, all with school groups. On Erev Tisha B'Av I went with a few friends to try to make our way through the throngs of women in the tiny Ezrat Nashim. About halfway through the crowd I had to turn around, I'm not sure if it was my virulent dislike of crowded places, or the mixed emotions I feel being forced to cram into such a small space in order to pray and connect with The Wall... but all of a sudden I just had to get out of there.

This past week our third and final "Jerusalem Days" field trip took us to the Kotel, and the archaeological gardens surrounding it. As the morning wore on, I was flooded with questions and emotions: Why is this, our holiest site, so prohibited to non-Orthodox Jews? (Conservative Jews have been granted access to the Robinson's arch area to have "mixed" services, Reform Jews are still in the process of trying to get access, but in the meanwhile the Conservative Jews are letting us...) In revering the Western Wall are we inherently revering The Temple? The judaism that I know and adhere to isn't about one place, it's about a way of life - so I sometimes feel a little awkward about the importance of this one physical place.

I thought back to that second encounter with the Kotel. The gratitude I felt for being able to represent generations of my family by standing there, at the place they had turned towards and , perhaps, longed for for millenia. Is it the place itself that is inherently holy, or the fact that people long for it. Is it just a symbol, and if so, of what exactly?

I think that my frustration and confusion hearkens back to the issues of gender inequality within Judaism which are truly apparent in this city - particularly at the Kotel. The greatest irony, or injustice, is that prior to 1967 when Israel reunified Jerusalem, and Jews were allowed back to the Western Wall, it was a place where men and women prayed together. It was only a few years after Israel took over control of the Old City, and the Jewish quarter in particular, that the Western Wall Plaza was constructed, and the Ezrat Nashim put into place. Also, one of Israel's most famous and recognizable images is of the soldiers liberating the wall in '67. If you look at said photo, the soldiers don't have long beards, nor peyot, nor are they even wearing kippot. They are secular Israelis, and they are obviously moved by the significance of reclaiming this piece of Judaism. And they are the soldiers who survived fighting for the Kotel. How many Israeli soldiers have died in the past 60 years in fighting for this land, this Jewish land, at the heart of which is the Western Wall?

The quote that I chose to title this entry with "There are people with hearts of stone. There are stones with human hearts," is a line from an Israeli song "HaKotel," that I'll end this posting with.

I guess I have some work to do in discovering what it is that the Western Wall means to me. Luckily, I've got a year here to being the process.

Thanks for listening to my ramblings. I'll post some "funner" updates soon.

Love and Blessings,
Callie

HaKotel

A young girl stood facing the kotel, her lips and chin drawing near.
She told me, "The blasts of the Shofar are powerful but the silence even more."
She told me, "Zion, the Temple Mount" then said nothing more to me, about reward or right.
Yet what shone on her forehead at twilight was the purple of royalty.

The kotel, hyssop and sadness.
The kotel, lead and blood.
There are people with a heart of stone.
There are stones with a human heart.

The paratrooper stood at the kotel.
From his entire division - the only one left.
He told me "Death has no face but it has a diameter - of just nine millimeters."
He told me, "I'm not shedding tears" and again lowered his glance.
"But my grandfather, God knows, is buried here, on the Mount of Olives."

The kotel, hyssop and sadness
The kotel, lead and blood.
There are people with a heart of stone.
There are stones with a human heart.

She stood dressed in black, at the kotel, the mother of one of the infantry.
She told me, "It's the eyes of my boy that are burning and not the candles lit in the wall."
She told me, "I'm not writing any note to hide between the cracks. Because what I gave to the kotel just last night is greater than words or note."

~ Yosi Gamzool and Dovi Zeltzer

The remains of Robinson's Arch