Complexities and Contrasts

A Reflection by Ziesel Saunders
January 2012

Israel is a land of complexities and contrasts.  Nowhere is that more evident than at the Kotel, the Western Wall, the last remnant of the Temple and one of the most sacred sites in Judaism.

The Kotel is an Orthodox site with a chin-high woven barrier separating men from women.  For the most part, the men praying on the larger left side are Haredim, ultra-orthodox Jews in black hats, white shirts, black pants, and black coats.  A large group of them at the back, including boys as young as two perched on their father's shoulders, are joyously and loudly praying, chanting, singing, and dancing as they celebrate a young man's bar mitzvah.

The women standing at the smaller right side of the Kotel or sitting in tacky plastic chairs in front of it are also mostly Haredim with somber faces, modest dress, and wigs or other head coverings.  The expressions on the teenage girls are less weary, but no less serious.  The mother of the young man becoming bar mitzvah, and his sisters, aunts, and other relatives, are sneaking peeks over the barrier trying to get a glimpse of the festivities.

At the rear of the women's section, many wearing beautifully painted tallit, is a group of women who are cheerfully but quietly praying, chanting, singing, and dancing in celebration of Rosh Chodesh.  These are the Women of the Wall, a group of women whose goal is "to achieve the social and legal recognition of our right to wear prayer shawls, pray and read from the Torah collectively and out loud at the Western Wall."  Several women, including a young woman in her early twenties, take turns leading the service.  These women were being video taped and observed by four scowling Israeli soldiers, all with large automatic weapons, who periodically ask them to be quieter or to stop dancing.  Several Orthodox women scream at them, asking them to leave, and order one of the soldiers to tell them they can't be there.  I was honored to be with those women who have been fighting since 1988 for their right to be there.

As the group moves away from the wall, down a number of ramps to their designated Torah reading area, I decide to leave the safety of the group and to walk up to the Kotel.  Even though I'm in a below-the-knee black skirt, black tights, with a shawl over my hair, there are only frowns for me as I make my way up to touch the Kotel and leave my small folded prayer in one of its cracks.  Regardless of their disrespect for my practice of Judaism, I feel like I'm communicating directly with God.