The Kotel

In Judaism, when we pray, we always turn our bodies so that we face Jerusalem. The reason for this is that within the walls of her old city resides The Kotel. The Kotel, more commonly known as the Western or Wailing Wall, is the last remaining wall of the destroyed temple in Jerusalem. Its oldest bricks are over two thousand years old and its slowly decaying mortar has been replaced with prayers scrawled on scraps of paper that have been lovingly wedged into the cracks.

Before I went to Israel with Shorashim over winter break, I never imagined that I would get the chance to stand and pray before The Kotel. But last week, on a cool December evening, I found myself at the Wall’s wizened face. The moment my eyes grazed her stony surface, tears of awe began to glide down my cheeks. It was more beautiful than I ever imagined.

Surrounded by other praying women, I placed my bare hand against one of the Kotel’s bricks. Smoothed by infinite caresses, the Wall’s bricks felt almost like skin; as soft and reassuring as a mother’s touch, yet wrinkled and wise as a loving grandparent. Overcome with emotion, I slipped my prayers into a densely packed crevice and whispered the Shemah. Then, I backed out of my spot at the Wall so that another could have a chance to pray. The moment my hand left the stone it had been resting upon I felt like a part of me was missing. So, I sat in one of the many chairs scattered nearby and waited. A few minutes later, my patience paid off. A spot in the corner opened up. This time, I had room for my whole body to touch the Wall. So, I nestled up to its calming surface and listened to the wails of the women next to me, prayers in foreign tongues, and the champagne-bubble giggles of little children scurrying around. Once again, tears found their way down my cheeks. But this time, with my entire body pressed up against her surface, it felt like the Wall hugged back.