My First Trip to the Land of Israel
My First Trip to the Land of Israel
The next day started early, I had to be at breakfast at 7:00 Jerusalem time. We had a discussion inside the hotel after breakfast of cucumbers, cottege cheese, pinapple, bread, cheeses, olives, and other salads. Because I had stayed up, I had no jet lag. We left the hotel for a place called the Haas Promenade, named after an American Olah (immigrant) named Daniel Haas who was killed in a war. From there we can see the old city and the small east Jerusalem below. It is wonderous! We were told to turn our back on the magnificent, breath taking, emotional view, our first view of Jerusalem.
We talked about how Jews for ages, mostly carried a picture Jerusalem inside them, and never saw the city, longing for it for ages, generations. Then, we turned back. Oh, it was wonderful!!!!! Here is a picure of me on the Haas prominade. It was beautiful! Amazing! There was a beautiful garden and forest below us in the valley, and across the valley was most of Jerusalem. The old city was visible. I could see the walls, the domes... very moving. There was again, a contrast, though. East Jerusalem, also visible (in fact, you can see most of it in the picture), were treeless. I do not have enough words to tell you how wonderful it was to be in Jerusalem and to see the Old City.
Our next stop on this Friday morning was into the Old City itself. We visited an archeological site called the "Burnt House", which I have read recently about in the Best of BAR, belonged to a priestly family named Boethus during Roman times. A family that was not know for its kind words. It was a multistory dwelling at that time and the owners seemed to have run a business out of its basement. At any rate, the house was burned by the Romans in 70 C.E. One of the occupants was found in the house, his hand reaching out for a spear that was forever out of his or her reach.
When we were done there, we went to a Herodian period mansion most likely occupied by the Saducee high priest, based on the large number of mikvaot (baths for ritual purity), and its location proximate to the Temple Mount (something that we were told about, but were not allowed to really see). The owners were ery wealthy and very Hellenized. The mosaics however, unlike those owned by Romans, had no images just abstract designes and vegitable life The house was huge, even by today's standards. It seemed that being in the employ of the Romans, being their friends, paid off well in material benifits for these Roman appointed priests. One of the things that was found in the house in the way of artifacts, was a drawing of a menorah, presumed to be the menorah of the Temple of the time.
Comming out of the Herodian age mansion, we saw a bit of the top of the Al Aqsa Mosque and some of the retaining wall of the Temple Mount (we did not see as much as in this picture, but nearly so). We were not allowed to go any closer, as they wanted to build up to our visit after luch of the Kotel, the part of the Western Wall of the Temple Mount by which Jews pray.
After eating a lunch of felafel with french fries (felafel im cheeps as it it is called in Hebrew) in the Old City, we regrouped an headed for a place where we could see the Kotel from a distance and talk about it. While it was about as tall as I imagined, it was much smaller in width than I had thought. I guess pictures cannot tell you everything. Perhaps another picture of the Kotel will help you visualize the size of the exposed area better. Still, though only a small part of the hugh retaining wall was accesable for Jews to pray at, it was wonderful and emotional to see it! Of course, I said Shehechianu again.
We made our way to the level of the Kotel plaza, coming closer and closer to the Kotel. We went through metal detectors (so the people praying would not have to worry) and I thanked the security guard in Hebrew. There was a mehitza (divider) at the part of the court closest to the Kotel, allowing for the Orthodox custom of having the men and the women pray serately. I have been told that on the men's side, there is always a Jew at prayer, at every hour of the day and night. We have 15 minutes to go to the Kotel, put in our notes, say a prayer or two and regroup. Fifteen minutes was not nearly enough time. There were so many people in the women's section! I gave out some of the tzedakah money I was entrusted with to poor women who begged before the entrance to the prayer area. Most of the others in my group did not understand why I would give to beggers, but I know that it is important just to be acknowledge by another human being and also that we are commanded to care for the poor by HaShem. Some of the tzedakah money I carry also goes into a huge tzedakah box by the entrance to the women's prayer area.
I went into the
prayer area, thanked G-d for bringing me to this season (shehechianu again)
as I saw the Kotel, a place my people have prayed to G-d at for millinium,
close up for the first time. I still could not get close enough to touch it
yet, but that would happen. While waiting for my turn to touch the Wall,
to put in my notes as others had throughout
the ages, I thought of the history of this place, and of the Temple that no longer
stood, at which we could no longer pray, I thought of the long exile and of
the return of the Jewish people en-mass (there have always been some Jews here)
to Israel, to Jerusalem. I was both sad and happy at the same time. I finally found
a place directly under the large bush
growing out of the Wall in the women's section. There
was a modestly dressed woman just to the left and in front of me, crying, pouring
her heart out to G-d in this place as so many women had done, praying like Hannah,
so you could bearly hear a sound. I wondered what she was saying and I was touched
by her emotions. I cried too. Cried for the seperation, for the years, for all
Jews throughout history who had died at the hands of others. I cried as
I finnally put my notes into the Wall, under the largest clump of vegitation
growing out of the Wall (was it hyssop?). They fell out, as the cracks were so
full, but I knew that G-d would "hear" them anyhow. I cried with happiness and
sadness. I touched the smoothness of the Wall, touched by so many other
hands before my own...
Shabbat candle lighting time was 4:02 pm Jerusalem time. Going back to the hotel, having exited through the Dung Gate, we made preperations for Shabbat. After lighting the Shabbat candles (in Jerusalem!!), I made my way to a shul in Yemin Moshe (Yemin = right, the community was founded by Moses Montifiore, who also built this windmill for the neighborhood). I asked many people in Hebrew for directions on how to get, first to Yemin Moshe, and then to the shul. Most people, hearing my accent, answered in English I went through a beautiful park with a fountain and then through a gate not unlike the one in the picture. The gate I went through, however, lead down many steps. I saw a young man with a kippah, and I asked him in Hebrew how to get to the Beit Knesset (shul or synagogue) of Yemin Moshe. He spoke only Hebrew, but I understood that he was going to the Beit Knesset, and so I followed him. I had intended to visit the Sephardic synagogue, but ended up in an Ashkenazi one instead. The synagogue was simple, but beautiful. There were no real decorations, but the view was wonderful! The view looked out over a valley to the walls of the Old City of Jerusalem. What a place to pray! How inspiring! The tunes were familiar to me, as I am a Jew of Ashkenazi decent.
After the service, I had to walk up the more than 100 stairs I had decended to get to the shul. Wow, am I out of shape! I was told Shabbat Shalom by an Israeli of English origin. Hearing that I was out of breath, she asked if I was okay. I said yes, just out of shape. She stopped for a while, and asked me if I had a place to eat Shabbat supper. I had to decline, since the group was eating together that night. She invited me the next week, and I could accept that, so I did. Returning to the hotel, we ate dinner with Sally (one of our major tour guides, sources of information, and a majorly nice person) and her rabbi husband. It was very nice!
Afterwards, we went on an interesting optional walk through Mea Sherim on a lovely Shabbat night. Our guide was a former Hasid, who was now a modern Orthodox, named Avraham Zvi. Needless to say, he knew the neighborhood well. All of us who went were dressed with appropriate modesty. I did not know it before, but I learned that night, that there is a dress worn by some Hasids in Jerusalem called Jerusalem dress. It is not black, but golden on Shabbat, and looks very much like what I picture Avraham Aveinu wearing. This group also uses sashes, instead of buttons on their coats. In Mea Sherim there we, of course, Hasids dressed in black, but they belonged to a different sect then the ones wearing the Jerusalem dress. In addition to touring the neighborhood, we were also in search of a tish (table) where Hasids and their Rebbe gather. The Hasids share the Rebbe's meal, and his words of wisdom. Followers of other groups are also welcome. There is often singing as well. We finnally found a tish at about 11:00 pm Jerusalem time. The Rebbe was celebrating a simcha (joyful occasion), since a grandaughter had been born that day. He sent up a plate of cold beans to the ladies upstairs, and we were offered some too (by the rebbetzin, I think). Quite and honor, and kind welcome. I and two others were told we looked like Israelis. Personally, I was flattered by that comment.
We went back to the hotel, tired, to sleep until services tomorrow...
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