Coming Home to the Wall

I decided to pay a visit to the Kosel tonight. I had been pushing it off until now, because I was worried about getting lost, and was waiting for a friend to be available to come with me. But tonight, however, having been in Israel almost a week, I decided to risk the journey on my own.

I once heard a tape by Rabbi Dovid Orlofsky about how many people do not prepare properly for a visit to the Kosel. Oh sure, they think they're prepared - in fact, they have a whole fantasy about how they will approach the Wall, and as they reach it the clouds will part, and a lone ray of sunlight will shine upon them, and the angels will sing, and they will just generally be swept away in a tidal wave of holiness.

What often actually happens, though, is unfortunately far more mundane. They cross the plaza, and find: a wall. Hmmm... all I see is a wall. A very old wall. It seems like there's nothing too special here. I'm looking around now... hmmm... I wonder what's wrong with that guy - why's he crying like that? Hey, you! Get away from me - I gave you money already!

Why do people feel that way? Simple - because it's not magic. It's an investment. As much as you put into it, that's what you'll get out of it. The more you mentally prepare yourself for the experience, the better and more spiritual the experience will be.

It was with these thoughts in mind that I boarded the number 2 bus to the Kosel. I hoped I'd prepared myself at least somewhat for the experience to come. I realized, of course, that I probably wouldn't experience the full feeling of kedusha that I'd like to feel all at once, but I hoped at least I would be zoche to feel something...

The bus ride was relatively uneventful, unless you count the few times that the bus felt like it wouldn't make it to the top of the hill that we were ascending. But we made it all they way there nonetheless. As soon as I got off the bus, I put on my "kriyah shirt" - an old shirt with a cut near the collar to make it easier to tear the required tefach - over my regular shirt, just under my jacket. I headed through security (I wisely elected to leave my Leatherman back at my dira, so I had no problems at the metal detector), and proceeded toward the plaza.

Up until this point, I had not been able to see the Kosel, due to various walls and other objects blocking me. As I entered the plaza, however, the Kosel suddenly appeared before me in all its glory, almost all at once. I was so overcome by the sight that my eyes began to tear. I approached the Kosel slowly, instinctively fighting back the tears. But when I reached the wall and kissed it, I just couldn't hold it back any longer. I burst into tears. All the pain I felt - my pain, as well as the pain of Klal Yisroel as a whole - just came pouring out as I cried like a lost child who has finally found his way home. I felt a little self-conscious, but told myself that it didn't really matter, since crying people are a common sight at the Kosel. Besides, it was raining steadily, so most of the people were in the "indoor" area of the Kosel, so no one was too close to me anyway.

For several moments I just stood there and cried - not saying any Tehilim, not having any particular cholim in mind, not even thinking about the things I had been planning on davening for - just crying for the ancient wall in front of me, for the magnificent edifice it once was, for the pain and suffering of Klal Yisroel who have nowhere to call home, for the Shechinah Hakdosha which has nowhere to call home. Mipnei chato'einu ga'alinu mei'artzeinu...

After a while, I composed myself, and went about the routine business of any Kosel visitor: davening, giving tzedaka, writing a kvittel. To the many people around me, I imagine I looked as if I returned to normal. Like I wasn't still feeling anything special. Perhaps even like that ordinary tourist in Rabbi Orlofsky's story. Like I was just another ordinary American bochur.

Perhaps I was. But that feeling - that sense of a child longing to come home - still has not left me.

I hope it never will.