Re-discovering the Kotel - A Magical Night at the Wall

Last night was the first time I have been to the Kotel in almost a year. I admit this with a real sense of guilt. I have always been committed to visiting the Kotel at least for each of the שלש רגלים in fulfilment of the Torah’s prescription:

"שלוש פעמים בשנה יראה כל זכורך את פני האדון ה' אלקי ישראל"

However, in recent years my regular chol hamoed visits have become increasingly unpleasant. The throngs that flock to Jerusalem over Chag have been (Barukh Hashem) so overwhelming that one year, we experienced a policeman directing the pedestrian traffic through the Rova. The parking has been impossible, and so what might have been a somewhat short visit to daven has become a hot, tiring, crowded trek for the entire family. In addition the pilgrimage has lacked a particularly spiritual component, as with the Kotel so full, it is difficult to concentrate or focus, and one is concerned to lose one of the kids. So, last chol hamoed, for the first time in about 20 years, I just didn’t go.

Well – after my highly positive experience at the Kotel last night, I have a new plan.

I went there to give a shiur to my Talmidim. Yeshivat Eretz Hatzvi was holding its end-of-winter-zman “Mishmar” - learning all night with Vatikin at dawn – by the Wall.  I arrived at the Old City at 12:30 and headed to the Wall.   

As I emerged from the car, the air was fresh, the streets were quiet, serene, calm. Whenever one goes to the Kotel one anticipates an experience of “Klal Yisrael” – an encounter with a mix of  Jews that communicates a deep feeling that beyond our diversity and difference, that there is a fundamental unity of all Jews. This was my mindset as I made my way from Sha’ar HaAshpot towards the security checkpoint. It didn't take long to engage with that diversity. Far ahead were 3 Yeshiva Students. About twenty yards behind me were 4 people –  two couples – smiling, jovially teasing one another. They were secular; the women in jeans, the men bare-headed. But they too were making their way to the Wall. Alongside me, an elegantly dressed young lady wearing leggings, carrying a designer handbag walked with a sense of purpose. Who was this woman, I wondered? I was trying to define her, to label her into one of the classic categories, the “tribes” in which we live. As she approached the washbasin, she washed her hands with the washing cup – 3 times alternately. By the way she washed her hand, it was evident that she was accustomed to this ritual. Was she religious? Secular? Newly religious? Once religious? - Who knows? Did she come here regularly? Was she here to pray for someone sick? ... it really didn’t matter. I proceeded, enjoying the fact that we were all here, together; lots of different stereotypes. Tonight, it felt like we all belonged here, in all our difference.  

The Kotel was calm, beautiful and reverent. Even the people calling us for a minyan – “Arvit; Arvit!” - made their announcement in soft tones. The Hazzan who lead my minyan – a red-head Hassidic man – davened with expressive kavvana. A simple, daily Ma'ariv, became elevated. Somehow, whenever I am at the Kotel, I sense that I have a special opportunity to stand at the “Gate of Heaven” and to really speak to God. I tried to inject my tefilla with special meaning, to genuinely connect with God. At this late hour, there was no rushing, no pushing; the minyan took its time.

And then, giving shiur. The Yeshiva were congregated there, all sitting at shtenders in the inner area, under Wilson’s Arch, some in havrutot, some learning alone. One or two boys had fallen asleep. I gave shiur to 25 guys, all huddled together, and I tried to communicate to them a sense of our special historic privilege. I told the boys: “Look where we are! Some 2 thousand years ago, our forefathers walked across the bridge above our heads leading the lambs into the Temple, to bring the Korban Pesach! Jews yearned for thousands of years to stand at this very spot. We may not have a Beit Hamikdash, but the Shekhina never leaves this site. We can still fulfill our obligation (Shemot 23:17) to “present ourselves” before God’s presence.” My shiur was Pesach oriented – Redemption, Eliyahu Hanavi, and other related themes. 1 a.m. and I was inspired by the fire of Eliyahu Hanavi, and the interest of my students.

I emerged from the tunnel area after bidding my students a good night of learning. I had work the next day and couldn’t manage without a few hours sleep. The entire prayer area was virtually empty. The larger plaza was also deserted. But then I saw them -  a  Chattan and Kalla, a bride and groom - deep in prayer, standing right at the front of the Kotel plaza. It was 2am. Here was a young Haredi couple who had come to the Kotel straight from their wedding! What was beautiful about this scene was that they were all alone! It looked strange; one does not generally see a man and woman praying alongside one another at the Kotel. But of course, this couple who had married some hours earlier didn’t want to separate from one another. They didn’t go down to the prayer area, but instead, stood together, in perfect harmony, swaying together, praying together. What were they  davening for? For the future of their lives together? Were they praying for the sick and needy of Israel, having absorbed the tradition that a Chattan and Kalla on their wedding day have a special spiritual power to pray for others? It was a beautiful scene. Although they were distant from me and oblivious to my presence in this most public place, I almost felt like I was intruding on their intimate, special moment. I marvelled at this young couple who felt a need to bring God so palpably into their relationship and personal joy.

So, I thought to myself, I have now discovered that this is the time of day to come to the Kotel. I think I am going to try to visit regularly now, late at night, at this magical hour when all is calm, when one can daven without interruption, when the Kotel returns to being enchanting, spiritual, inspirational. It is wonderful to have re-discovered my path back to the Kotel.

Chag Kasher Vesameach!

Nahem: Should Our Prayers Match Reality?

Every year, as we finish Mincha of Tisha BeAv here in Alon Shevut, the same conversation takes place in various corners of the shul. The conversation is about the appropriate text of Nahem. This year, Rav Medan and Rav Yoel bin Nun were debating at the front, there were a few discussions off to the side.

What is the issues? (Hirhurim posted on this here and here.)

In short, the problem is that in today's reality, the prayer is untrue! It talks of Jerusalem as a city which is in a state of "mourning, destruction, disgrace, and desolation: mourning for the loss of her children; destroyed of its palaces; disgraced of its honour, and desolate with out inhabitants." ( I will not even enter into the end of the prayer that sides with Rashi that the future Temple will be built in fire whatever that means.)

Here two issues may be raised.
1. Jerusalem has more Jews today than ever before. This is simply a lie.
2. With our Zionist sensibilities, we do not feel that Jerusalem is in disgrace. How do we deal with this?

As regards (1.) Rav Lichtenstein related to this and said that he cannot lie in Tefilla. If I recall correctly, he simply omits the phrases מבלי בניה and מאין יושב and indeed this has been my adjustment ever since. This assumes that with the absence of Jewish Law and a God designated government, with Har Habayit still in foreign hands, and in that sense a total disgrace and lack of honour to God's name, the phrases of בזויה, שוממה, חרבה, אבלה can all relate to that, but as regards the return of Am Yisrael, that should be omitted from the prayer.

But as regards point (2.) I do not agree. I recall some years ago that I spent some time with a very impressive frum Israeli academic. He was (and is) for me a true model of Torah Umadda, a person of impeccable integrity, love of Am Yisrael, work-ethic, spirituality, humanity etc. He belonged to a group of people who, in the wake of the Six Day War, stopped fasting on 17 Tammuz. After all, 17 Tammuz commemorates the loss of the city. Now, we had the city in our hands. Of course, this group continued to observe the 9 days and Tisha BeAv as they relate to the loss of the Mikdash.

I was quite taken by the argument and began to become increasingly sensitive to the dissonance between our prayers and our current reality. sometimes the disparity is quite startling, and we daven as if we were still incarcerated in the doldrums of Christian Europe. At times our prayers seem simply a rejection of God's kindness , a failure to acknowledge the miracles (of ingathering, of Kibbutz Galuyot..restoration to our land, of Jewish safety and dignity, of Jewish governance) that God has performed in our own days. I couldn't take things as far as annulling a Taanit Tzibbur. But I decided to take matters into my own hands, and to "adjust" or omit certain phrases in the Monday and Thursday Tachanun. Phrases such as :
ישב נא אפך וחמתך מעירך ירושלים הר קדשך ... ירושלים וחרפה לכל סביבותנו
or how about this line?
פקח עיניך וראה שממותנו והעיר אשר נקרא שמך עליה
and I said to myself... Jerusalem has never seen such honour for the Jewish people! In 2000 years we haven't had the zechut to be here. Now God brings us back and we still recite these lines? And I put pencil lines around these phrases and stopped saying them.

And then, the Oslo accords began, and people began to discuss giving up on the Old City, and Har Habayit, and suddenly Jerusalem seemed far less secure. Incredibly, the Jerusalem which had seemed so rock steady appeared far more fragile and vulnerable. I decided that maybe I should have more modesty and that our tefillot should reflect the fact that we are existing somewhere on that line BETWEEN Galut and Geula, however, until that Geula arrives, it is an open game. (And maybe afterwards too. Who knows?)

And so, when I think of Jerusalem as a city in disgrace I do think about Har Habayit and the fact that we do not have a Mikdash, but I also think about the other ways in which Jerusalem falls short of our Religious standards, whether it is corruption and scandal, or the way in which foreign workers live in sub-standard conditions, or people who are not given their rights, or simply the embarrassment of the way our government works at times, or all different public demonstrations - from Left and Right - that seem to undermine the notion of what Jerusalem and Judaism stand for. And hovering over Jerusalem all the time is that it is ours, but it always feels like there is an axe in the air threatening to divide the city. sometimes, I feel like we are on borrowed time.

These , of course are my thoughts on 9 Av. The more optimistic and hopeful sentiments are reserved for Yom Yerushalayim and Yom Haatzmaut!

Visiting Har Habayit . Take 3!

After posting about visiting Har Habayit last week, my student Zeev Schramm has been giving me a hard time in the comments section. Yashar Koach. That is what students should do their teacher. Keeps us on our toes.

Having said that, I saw two articles today that bear quite dirsctly on this topic. See this in Jpost in which Rabbi David Golinkin, a Conservative Rabbi and leading Conservative Halakhic authority, advises people to visit Har Habayit. (Just to be clear, I am not quoting him because I am advocating Conservative psak! His sources and conclusions are shared by many leading Orthodox poskim too.) Here is a quote:

WITHOUT entering into detailed measurements, it is permissible to enter the area south of the Mughrabi Gate and near the Aksa Mosque and the area north of the raised platform surrounding the Dome of the Rock.

On the other hand, one should not enter that raised platform at all. On the west, one should stay close to the Western Wall, and on the east, one should stay close to the eastern wall.

Finally, there is an urgent practical reason for Jews to enter the Temple Mount area today. In 1967, the Israeli government gave the Muslim Wakf control of the Temple Mount. Since then the Wakf has made a concerted effort to obliterate the remnants of Jewish antiquities on the Temple Mount.

... The Wakf was able to get away with this plunder because Jews do not visit the Temple Mount, and they don't visit the Temple Mount because of the strict rabbinic rulings cited above.

This last paragraph receives a strong echo from Nadav Shragai in today's Haaretz. again, I quote from the article:


For the past 40 years, right-wing and religious organizations have been mourning the absence of the Temple Mount from our national and religious life in addition to the Temple's destruction.

In what has become a ritual, they lament the destruction of the antiquities on the mount and complain about the impotence of the Israel Antiquities Authority, the humiliating entrance conditions and turning empty areas on the mount into Muslim prayer sites.

These groups say there is a vacuum as far as sovereignty, government, law and order on Temple Mount are concerned. They say they are frustrated again and again by the authorities' lies and broken promises.

They are usually right. The only problem is that the politicians, archaeologists or even the police were not the first to give up Temple Mount. The rabbis were the ones to do so, as early as 1967. Even a decade later, when Menachem Begin wanted to change the status quo on Temple Mount to enable Jews to pray there, the rabbis would not allow it. They threatened him with boycotts and coalition crises.

When Rabbi Yoel Bin-Nun complained to Begin on the goings on at Temple Mount, Begin sent him away angrily, saying "go to your rabbis."


If YOU have been to Har Habayit and wish to add anything, or if you feel strongly on this one then please add your comment below!

Visiting Har Habayit

It is the nine days. I think it appropriate to devote a few postings to the Mikdash.

There are certain places in Israel that inspire me deeply. It is difficult to describe the feeling that Ir David, the Southern Wall excavations, Minharot Hakotel, evoke in me. One feels that one is touching the past, that one is almost there, at the Temple! That just a few steps away, we too could touch that wondrous place, that amazing era of the Mikdash. I run out of my house and hail down a car in alon Shevut to get a "tremp" (hitchhike) en route to lead a tour in the Old City. I say to the driver "Yerushalayim!" He nods, and I get in. Wow! Unreal! This is historic! I can say the "magic word" and in a half hour, I am there! For 1900 years has it ever been this easy to stand בחצרות בית ה'- in God's back yard? What would our anscestors, our great-grandparents only say if they knew that one could be on the steps to Har Habayit just a short drive from my house? They would think the Mashiach had arrived!

So this is truly amazing.

I said that I would devote a posting to visiting Har Habayit.

First, Halakha. It would appear that one may visit Har Habayit after going to the Mikve, as long as one remains outside the precinct of the "chel" the raised platform of the Mikdash. One enters without leather shoes, without a wallet, and in a state of reverence and simcha. There seems to be little argument about the permissibility of all of this.

And yet, I have not been. Many of my friends and Rabbis have been. I find it difficult to bring myself to do it. And as with so many things in my life, I have clashing ambivalent feelings about this.

Why not go? The first aspect is the feeling of מי יעלה בהר ה' ומי יקום במקום קדשו נקי כפיים וכ' ועיין תהילים פרק ט"ז. To ascend Har Habayit demands a high spiritual level, a purity of mind and action. Do I really match that level? I have many flaws in my religious efforts and my religious level, my middot, my shemirat mitzvoth. Am I the one to push myself forward to a place that only a fraction of the Torah-observant world enter?

I recall some years ago that my Yeshiva chavruta spent some time in the Yeshiva in Moscow on shlichut there. A few weeks after he returned to Israel, the "iluy" of the Yeshiva arrived on Aliya. My chavruta greeted him at the airport and asked him: "Do you want me to take you to the Kotel?" The Russian yeshiva bachur looked at him in bewilderment. "How can I go yet?" He said. "First I should learn for a while in eretz Yisrael, in Ir Hakodesh. Then after a month or two, maybe I will reach the madrega (religious standing) to venture to the Kotel."

We visit the Kotel quite casually. But Har Habayit?

A second hesitation relates to the political realm. One argument for a Jewish presence on Har Habayit is political. Everyone knows that the Arabs control Har Habayit. Motta Gur may have declared that "Har Habayit Beyadeinu" but unfortunately the Waqf do as they wish there, and if they could no Jews would step foot there. We know how much they ruined in building the underground mosque at "Solomon's Stables" and they actively try to eradicate any Jewish traces there. For our own honour and for our historic rights and roots in the place, we must state loudly and clearly that it is Har HaBAYIT, and not Al-haram Al-sharif!

And that is a very good point. How can we Jews be denied access to our holiest place. People frequently say that the Kotel is the holiest shrine to Jews. Nonsense! Har Habayit is the only place where I am restricted entry due to its sanctity. How dare we abandon it? I greatly identify with this argument. We should establish Jewish entry to Har Habayit as a norm.

But on the other hand, I hate the politicization and Messianisation of all of this. So many organizations (like Machon Hamikdash) are so into the very structure and architecture of the Mikdash. Is that truly the essence? And when the Messiah comes, will he necessarily rebuild Herod's Roman style structure? And why are we so obsessed with the building itself? The prophets constantly warned (see Jeremiah #7) that people were giving undue importance to the Temple, and too little attention to their own deeds, their crimes, immorality and sins. Every month, there is a procession called "Sivuv Shearim." They walk around the gates of the Old City reciting Psalms, praying , singing , dancing. This yearning for the Temple. Is that the way? Or should we be fighting crime, corruption, prejudice and injustice in the streets of Jerusalem, in the shuk and in Ben Yehuda, in Government and the business community. Should we be campainig for minimum wage legislation, against woman trafficking, against government irregularities and party appointmenst to the Civil service. Sometimes this yearning for the Temple seems like a misplaced desire. At times it feels simply like a naïve hope for better times i.e. that all our problems should disappear. At other times it feels militant. And then again, many times it appears heartfelt and genuine, holy and humble, earnest and true, and the my words sound rather cruel and cynical.

Anyhow, all this political stuff (which also relates to unrealistic assessments of the political reality eg. not having to deal with Human Rights in the West Bank because God wants us there anyway) makes me insecure and nervous. Is Har Habayit the place to be making these statements? What statement am I making by going up to Har Habayit? On the one hand am I saying that Har Habayit is Jewish? Or am I expressing my desire that somehow (miraculously) God will build his Mikdash a.s.a.p. however improbable that sounds.

For me, I always feel that rather than us waiting for God, God is waiting for us to practice Justice, to act like a ממלכת כהנים וגוי קדוש, to create a society of kindness and holiness, of humanity, warmth, sophistication, morals. Will the Mashiach come by visiting the Har Habayit or visiting the hospital? By making political statements, or by challenging the corruption of politics?