Behold, I am about to make Jerusalem a cup of staggering to all the surrounding peoples. The siege of Jerusalem will also be against Judah.
I am finally here. The dream that seemed to last a thousand centuries is over. I am about to approach the Western Wall. I feel like a mother about to give birth. There’s that pang of overwhelming agony again. I am sweating. I am convulsing inside and my heart is beating loud, so loud that I’m afraid it will awaken the prophets and my father, Abraham. Calm down, my beating heart. Can I do this without staggering? I am walking like an intoxicated sailor. I am completely under the spell of the exhilarating Sabbath ambiance.
Our hopes of 2000 years is not yet lost.The aged-old hope to return to the land of our fathers. To Zion, the city where David had dwelt. To return to the land of our fathers. With eyes looking towards Zion our hope is not yet lost…
What am I going to write on this piece of paper? There, there at last. I touched the wall. I slowly covered my head with the scarf I bought from the Jewish Quarter in the Old City. Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha olam. As I rocked my body back and forth, it felt like my spirit departed my body momentarily. My soul seemed to disintegrate in the midst of a maddening cocktail of agony and ethereal, unrelenting happiness. Oh, what a joy to be here!
Such amazing grace. To stand in front of the only remaining piece of the Second Temple after it was razed to the ground by the Romans in 70 A.D, when it was left in utter desolation, never again to be under Jewish control until after nearly 2,000 years later, is mind-blowing to say the least. I wept as I leaned against it for support. When the veil finally covered my head and I was hidden from the world, whisked away, alone and face-to-face with my unseen God, I lamented. I mourned, weeping for the rejected Mashiach and for the forgiveness of my sins. I cried like the exiles by the rivers of Babylon, pining for Jerusalem even though I’m right in front of it.
Time stood still and I had no recollection of how long it lasted. All I know is that there was an immense outpouring of pain that spanned nearly 2,000 years. Everything flashed before me – the countless tragedies that befell the house of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Judah: the binding of Isaac at the Temple mount, Joseph sold into slavery in Egypt, the plot of Hamas, the razing of Jerusalem, Masada, the Inquisition, the black smoke emitting from the hell that is Auschwitz, the destruction of the Second Temple, the suffering servant, the miracle of the Mashiach, the establishment of the state of Israel, the ensuing Yom Kippur war and all the other unending wars that followed.
And then suddenly, I saw him. I found him causing havoc in the same temple grounds I am now standing in. I saw him as he drove the merchants away whilst screaming in holy anger, “How dare you turn my Father’s house into a market!” I can almost touch his beloved face, my lovely Mashiach; the one who caused the rising and the falling of so many in the house of Judah and of the world. Then, just as quickly as it started, it was over. I was transported back to 21st century Jerusalem. I heard the festive Sabbath songs emitting from the men who are now entering the gates of the Western Wall. Sabbath has begun.