Rosh Chodesh, With The Women of the Wall

As Adam and I walked to the bus this morning to pray with the Women of the wall, my heart was beating out of my chest. I thought, "This is not right. I should not be scared to pray. I should not be out of breath, have a knot in my stomach, in anticipation of...praying." I guess that growing up in the Conservative and Reform movements in America, I take it for granted that prayer is the one thing another person can't take away from you. I have prayed in egalitarian services my whole life, and I had always taken for granted that it was my choice and obligation to pray freely. Here in Jerusalem, the struggles are still raw and real.

We rode the bus with many of Adam's new classmates, and we were all excited and nervous to be participating.  With a police escort, about 5 busses arrived at the gate to the Old City. Afterwards, I read about how many thousand Hareedi Jews were there in counter protest. (I only say protest because that was their agenda. Our agenda was only to have a prayer service.) I didn't notice that there were thousands of others. We were our own group, and we had peace on our side. Sadly, we did not make it to the actual wall. Hareedi leaders had called for thousands of young girls from seminaries all over Israel to come to the wall a half an hour before us, so that they would block us from going in. So they could deny us the right to pray at the Kotel. Not their Kotel, not my Kotel, but OUR Kotel. The Kotel that belongs to the Jewish people. They didn't want us there.

We used beautiful Women of the Wall prayer books to daven Shaharit, and read excerpts from the Torah in honor of the new Jewish month. Unfortunately, we were not able to read from an actual Torah scroll, as even the Women of the Wall have not won that battle--yet. As we prayed, we did our best to ignore what was happening around us.

The most beautiful moment for me was when a tiny 12-year-old girl stood on a chair to read the Torah blessings. She was the third generation in her family to become a Bat Mitzvah at the wall. My eyes filled with tears as this courageous girl was lifted on the chair in celebration of one of the most profound moments for a Jew. Thousands of Jewish men and women on the other side of our minyan jeered. But the 350 of us stood proud and strong to support her, cheering. I hope she could only hear the cheers.

The difference between us and them is that we came there to pray, and they came there to spew hate. Its impossible for me to wrap my mind around the thought of someone feeling so strongly that women should not be heard, that they would actively drown out the prayers that they themselves count as the most holy. We were saying the words of our people, in the language of our people. Singing in beautiful harmony, praising and thanking God. But they were yelling, blowing air horns, blowing whistles, shushing us, throwing eggs, laughing, shaming....as we sang and praised God. Not their God, Not my God, but OUR God.

As I prayed, I kept noticing that I was feeling the hot Jerusalem sun shine down on us. I felt the sun and the beauty of the city and our people driving the ruach (spirit) in our circle. I wonder if the other Jews there could feel the sun shining down on them as they screamed and shouted. Could they feel the beauty of God as they condemned us? I hope so. I hope deep down, in some small part of them, they felt it. That they felt the light of the Women of the Wall.

Our Hope is not yet lost.
The hope of two thousand years
To be a free people in our land.
The land of Zion and Jerusalem.

עוֹד לֹא אָבְדָה תִּקְוָתֵנוּ,	‘
הַתִּקְוָה בַּת שְׁנוֹת אַלְפַּיִם		,
לִהְיוֹת עַם חָפְשִׁי בְּאַרְצֵנוּ,
אֶרֶץ צִיּוֹן וִירוּשָׁלַיִם.	.