Experiencing the Holy Land First Hand

Location:
Israel

Visiting Western Wall

By Caitlin Dickson

If you want to understand why Israel is called “The Holy Land”, the only way to really find out is to experience it first hand. As a first-timer in the highly controversial, tiny, Middle Eastern country, and not at all religious myself, I was curious as to the type of experience I would have, having been told by all those I knew that had been to Israel before me of the great “spiritual awakening” I was about to have. I attempted to put my skepticism aside as I got dressed for what was about to be my first celebration of Shabbat, a weekly Jewish ritual during which the hours between sundown Friday and sundown Saturday are used strictly for rest. For the strongly devout this means no work, no driving, no use of electricity at all. As I met the rest of my group outside our hotel in Jerusalem, I quickly gazed at the bare streets which, just a few hours ago, had been bustling with the traffic from crowded open-air markets where families gathered record amounts of fresh food to prepare for the evening’s events.

We made the mile or two walk from our hotel to the Old City of Jerusalem and along the way I gazed out at the houses and buildings that made Jerusalem, seeming to sit on top of one another. I remembered having seen a silver paperweight of the same landscape sitting at my house and now I was seeing the color version in person. The scarlet sun slowly lowering its way down a blue canvas gave light to a scene more beautiful than any paperweight could describe.

The sun was still hanging low in the sky when we reached the Old City. The cream colored stone bricks lined the narrow streets and walls of the city, creating the feeling of being indoors, although we were walking outside. As we walked we saw some stragglers leaving the few not yet empty homes, little girls in dresses and boys in black pants with white shirts, the long braids hanging down past their pockets, their soft hair twirled into tiny tendrils next to their ears. These children led us through the confined road to an open space, where they ran away to find their parents and left us to view one of the most amazing scenes we had ever seen. I stood at the edge of the open balcony overlooking the Western Wall and it’s plaza. A large group of young men gathered on the balcony in a circle, their Kippah’s, traditional head coverings for Jewish men, remaining in place as they jumped up and down in song, their arms around one another, before they ran off to join the others near the wall. As the sun finally took cover behind the great stone monument, the bronze top of the Muslim Al Aqsa Mosque seemed to glow in the distance. Below, the plaza in front of the wall was suddenly filled with thousands of people. At this point I was speechless, viewing this sight from above would have been enough for me but our tour guide, Yoni, was not satisfied; he led the way for our group to make yet another journey down the stone steps to join the crowd. At this point a tight knot began to form deep in my stomach, as the dual emotions of nervousness and excitement rushed through my body.

The lights on the ground level produced a warm glow over the thousands of participants engaging so whole-heartedly in this weekly tradition. I approached the women’s side of the wall and glanced over the screen separating the two genders at the scores of men, some praying silently, others dancing around and singing, joyfully lifting their sons above their heads. On my side, women of all ages made their way through the grandmothers, mothers, and daughters who either stopped to pray or were walking backwards, attempting not to turn their backs to the wall as they left the crowd to be reunited with their husbands, brothers, and sons. All apprehension left me as I floated through the crowd towards the wall. Once arrived, I put my hand on the stone wall, which felt cool as if I were the first person to have touched that exact spot in a long time. I felt the cracks in the wall where, if not filled with the greenery that usually overtakes old buildings, were stuffed completely with tiny, folded slips of paper, on which Israeli’s and Jews from elsewhere alike had inscribed their deepest wishes, their prayers.

As I made my way back to the group, my body still facing the wall, I watched the masses of people as I moved farther and farther away from them and I felt the knot loosen as nervousness and excitement were replaced by a new feeling, content. Not only seeing such a spiritual, joyous gathering but actually taking part in the event myself made me feel more connected to Israel and her people than any other country I have visited. To all those who are seeking such an experience, I would highly recommend visiting the Western Wall on Shabbat.

Further Information

Other helpful information: Go twice if you can, once to experience the intensity of Shabbat and once more when it is less crowded so you can actually reach the wall.

Must see/do at this place: Bring a note with prayers or wishes to stick in the cracks of the wall.

You should avoid here: Make sure you are dressed appropriately, mainly for women have knees and shoulders covered.