Torah Portion:	Achrie Mot – Kedoshim
Synagogue:	Kotel (Western Wall)
Walking time from hotel:	15 minutes
Reason for going:	Where else?
Kiddush:	N/A

JERUSALEM, ISRAEL: According to the vast majority of Jews around the world, there is no place more holy these days than the Kotel (Western Wall), the closest remnant we have to the Temple. It is the place people travel to from all over the world to have their lifecycle celebrations and to feel closer to the Almighty. For me, though the place feels significant and special, it has never quite felt holy, though I do understand why so many people come to Jerusalem for their special occasions. 

This blog is generally about my Shabbat morning experiences, and though I will get to that, I want to focus the first part of this week’s writings on our collective experience at the Kotel on Friday night. Within our March of the Living Australian group is a young man who only relatively recently discovered his own Jewishness. And whilst finding this out isn’t necessarily going to change his life, as someone who has never practiced any form of Judaism, he decided that he wanted to have at least a makeshift Bar Mitzvah whilst in Israel, and what better place than at the Kotel?

So an hour before evening services on Friday night, we all went down to the Wall and the rabbi within our group brought his Tefillin. After a short speech, our honouree donned the Phylacteries, the rabbi intoned a few blessings, and everyone screamed out ‘Mazel Tov’. It was so festive and inviting in fact that 20 or more of the people gathered around us joined in with the well wishes, and all of us danced, hugged and sang for a few minutes before the evening services began. For our honouree and for the rest of us, it was a moment we will not soon forget, on a trip that has had many such moments. We thought we were coming to Israel to continue our Holocaust education and to learn about the complexities of this land, yet somehow we also came to celebrate an impromptu Bar Mitzvah with our new friends and pop-up family. It was glorious and exciting, made all the more so by the fact that so many Aussies from other tours and programs were also in the plaza, and they too joined in the celebrations. It was a magical night in a place that isn’t always so inspiring.

That lack of inspiration was very evident the following morning. Officially we had a free morning for those who wanted to go to a service, but unofficially our tour guide arranged a walking tour of Jerusalem that was due to start at 10:30am. So as not to miss it, I decided to go back to the Kotel – since I knew they had services at all hours – rather than to a synagogue. I arrived just before 9am in bright sunshine, but less than 20 minutes later the clouds opened up and soon enough it was quite rainy. The minyan that I had joined was on the righthand side by the women’s divider.

When the rain began, just before the Torah service, our group and all the others grabbed all their things and ran inside to the undercover section along the continuation of the western part of the wall. This section, which is exclusively for men, is protected from the elements but entirely chaotic. My first thought though was about the women. When we were outside, though women couldn’t participate, at least they could hear us and more importantly, would have been able to hear our Torah reading. But once we were inside, they ran to their own undercover shelter, but one that doesn’t have a Torah and that meant that any of the women that were there, were not able to hear the reading. Some might say that is not important to them, but I for one felt bad for them.

More than that, though we were at the Kotel, I think the service was one of the least inspiring that I have had in months, if not years, because the entire Kotel experience and particularly the undercover section in the rain was bedlam. It was a cacophony of noises with no sense of control or organisation. I think I was asked to join at least half a dozen minyanim and even when I found one, I could barely hear what was going on because of the sounds coming from all the other ones around. There was certainly no uniformity, which may be a metaphor for this entire country, though the one saving grace was that the service finished quickly and I managed to make the walking tour. Yet despite it all, it was still nice to be in such a special location, still with the memories of what happened there the night before fresh in my mind. Next week back in Melbourne will undoubtedly be a jarring experience no matter how inspiring it might be.