We arrived into Jerusalem this evening just in time for the beginning of Shabbat (or Sabbath), the weekly Jewish observance of the “seventh day of rest,” which lasts from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday. You see the streets go from teeming with people to practically deserted, as everyone closes up shop and hurries home to be with their families for the next 24 hours.
Full verticle view of the Western Wall.
While this happens in Orthodox Jewish neighborhoods the world over, it is quite the experience to be in **Jerusalem for it, especially because of the presence of the Western Wall. It was built more than 2,000 years ago as a retaining wall for the Temple Mount, which was destroyed, and has since become one of the most important shrines for those who observe Judaism.
Men and women stand before the wall (in separate sections) and pray—sometimes rocking back and forth (called davening) or simply placing their hands and foreheads on the wall. Our guide Ziv said that there’s a belief that if you visit the wall to pray before Shabbat, your prayer will have a better chance of coming true. Likewise, others write down their prayers on paper, roll them up and slide them in to cracks in the wall. The site is quite moving, especially with nearly all the Orthodox men wearing their traditional attire of black suits with white shirts, big black hats and long sideburn curls.
A closer look.
About an hour before the sun fully sets, a rich–sounding horn is heard throughout the old city and beyond. Once the horn is blown, there should be no more pictures taken in the prayer areas and even taking notes at this time is considered disrespectful. The Shabbat is nigh.
I’m not a particularly religious person, but I respect traditions, and couldn’t resist the opportunity to participate in such a historic ritual. I wrote out a prayer, rolled the paper, waited my turn before the wall, then soon found myself before it, hands and face pressed against the cool stones. I repeated what I had written and slid into a crevice, and next felt this sense of warmth and comfort, after which quickly came tears.
Yes, that’s right. I cried.
I wasn’t bawling or wailing or anything, though I had a hard time stopping these salty intruders from rolling down my cheeks even after I had left the wall’s prayer area. No idea why, but I definitely felt better afterwards.
Hmmm, maybe my wish has already come true.
Photos: Donna M. Airoldi
Related posts:
Janelle
I loved this post. I'm so glad you felt cleaned by that ritual. It must have been so overwhelming to be part of something so historic. Sounds like it was a wonderful trip all around.