Midnight Witticisms

I finally made my way to the Old City to walk the Via Dolorosa. This includes all 14 Stations of the Cross, and we also managed to stumble upon the birthplace of the Virgin Mary. While it wasn’t meaningful in a religious way, it was still a very moving experience.

It is difficult to me to see Israel with an unbiased eye. After all, this beautiful country has been central to my Jewish education. For the duration of my 22 years of existence, I’ve seen Israel as a country that belongs to us. Obviously I’m aware of the fact that Muslims are trying to stake a claim, but I always seem to forget that this land has Christian roots as well.

One thing that I found particularly interesting was how notes were stuffed in the walls of both Mary’s birthplace and those of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This is a practice I thought unique to Jews with regards to the Kotel (Western Wall). The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, by the way, is absolutely stunning. The cathedral ceilings are breathtaking. We were also fortunate enough to witness a procession of sorts - it seemed to be that several religious leaders from three or four sects of Christianity were meeting. I was hoping to hear some Gregorian chanting, but no such luck. Maybe next time.

From there we continued to the Kotel: an experience that I cannot live without and one that always confounds me.  Whenever I am there I see women (like an Orthodox synagogue, there is a wall to create a men’s section and a women’s section) praying fervently out of the Siddur.  Some are swaying, some are crying, but all are passionate.  It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that way about prayer, not since High School have I felt anything remotely close.  Nor have I ever cried whilst in liturgical prayer.  I much prefer my own personal prayer (to the disdain of many rabbis).  In fact, often I do not say anything at all, letting the words tumble out of my head and my heart until they are in such a shamble that only G-d Himself knows what I mean.  I find it more personal than words written by another man (a wise sage, but another person nontheless).

With that, I bid you all adieu.