Sashita's ISRAEL Blog

Shalom from Afar..

It has been a while. So I now decide to rekindle the delicate flame of my simple story…

In the last few weeks I have managed to start READING in Hebrew (which brings me joy), to lose my wallet and U.S. Passport (which brings me sorrow), and to become totally overwhelmed with Arabic grammar (which leaves me with a Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).

My wallet, I am pretty certain, was stolen in the Tel Aviv dormitories. Of course I panicked, searched EVERYWHERE, tugged at my hair in pain, imagined that THIS is what the coming of the Apocalypse will feel like!…  But then, I paused to reflect, thought about crying, decided against it…and just starting solving the problem. Calling credit cards, calling police, imploring the powers that be!

I was lucky enough to be with a few really good people, they were my true Southern gentlemen. They poured me a glass of the clear liquid and assured that everything will be ok. And one Israeli friend Ben told me of a Morroccan aphorism, which is told to small children when they lose or break a toy: “Really, you were supposed to injure yourself, but God spared you, and just made you lose a material posession.” So there you have it….I guess…

Speaking of God. The more I travel, the older I grow, the more I realize how powerless I am in the face of everything that happens to me. More than that, I am so powerless in my own reactions to things that befall. Melancholy will visit, seemingly for no concrete reason, and I am powerless in the face of this affliction. So I trudge along, hoping and expecting something GOOD to happen. Like…soon. Like…right about NOW. And then I lose my wallet…TAKE THAT Sasha! You felt bad before…how do you feel now??

So, still speaking of God, a couple weeks ago I visited Jerusalem. In Arabic: القدس (the Holy). The holy of all holies. There I met an Arab shopowner, with whom I bargained for a piece of embroidered cloth. I knocked the price down by half because, as he and his sons were yelling to each other                        (“هي تحكي عربي”) “She speaks Arabic.” (I recall this with a smile, because my current Arabic class has totally diminished any sense of swagger I ever entertained about my language abilities..). In any event, I got my cloth and we started talking. The man isn’t just a simple shop-owner. He comes from a historic family, which stayed in Jerusalem for nearly 300 years, living in the same house, even when most people fled during the war of ’48. He is also a jewelry maker, who designed one-of-a kind pieces for the Queen of Spain and the wife of the President of Poland, among others. He is also a Palestinian Arab who is heavily involved in peace programs in Israel. He, in collaboration with other Arab and Jewish civilians, organize groups of Palestinian and Jewish children, bring them to on trips to Europe and foster dialogue for understanding and peace. Through joint trips, activities, games, competitions, they try to break the pervasive sense of fear an hatred that permiates the air.  The attitude toward one another as barbarian, an immoral being and a threatening force. They do good work, even in the face of all obsticles. So, this shop owner told me about this. One of his best friends involved in the project is a professor of Psychology…..at the Univeristy of Haifa (thats where I live)…and I currently HAPPEN to be in his class! As you might recall, we started this conversation with talking about God….

So, I armed myself with his contact information and a hope of getting involved in such a project..and moved along to the Wailing (Westen Wall). Now a tiny bit of history. The Wailing wall is perhaps the most important Jewish religious site. It is located in the Old City of Jerusalem. In 19 BCE Herod the Great rebuilt the destroyed temple of King Solomon on Temple Mount. 

 Today’s Western Wall formed part of the perimeter wall of this temple. However, Herod’s Temple was destroyed by the Roman Empire, with the rest of Jerusalem, in 70 CE. Then in 691, the Muslim Caliph Abd al-Malik ibn Marwan built the Dome of the Rock on the site of the famous temple.

Therefore, now, Jews pray at the Wall, as the only remnant of their holy temple. And ironically, in the nearest proximity, in fact, ON TOP of the ruins of their famous temple, rests one of the holiest sites of Islam. As the story goes, the Dome of the Rock houses just that…a rock, from which prophet Muhammad ascended to heaven. Someone even told me that on this rock, you can spot an edge of the FOOTPRINT of Prophet Muhammad. In any event…one word: DRAMA.

So, as I was approaching the famous wall, in my head I had a purely historical/tourist perspective. This is a famous historical site, this is the center of three monitheistic religions. I was taking photos on the sly and feeling guilty about it. I mean, all around me, women were crying (it is divided into 2 sections: 3/4 for men, then a barrier, then a slim section for women). Anyway, women of all ages, with headscarves, were crying, pressing their hands and foreheads to the wall, reciting prayers, reading the Holy Torah.

I came forward with my torn jeans and lip gloss. I looked around, and decided to touch the wall. Everyone does it. I should too, right? Just to say I did it. I reached over and pressed my palm to the cool, smooth stone. I looked down at my feet and tears just started falling down my face. Tears and tears, falling and falling. As if I was alone. As if I found a place of refuge. As if I could finally let all of my bottled up strength go…. In my head was my pain, and the pain of the people in my life, my father, all the insecurities, fears, mistakes. All the hopes. I have never experienced anything like it. Not upon contact with a holy site. It was a very beautiful experience.

But to end on a positive note, it is still 65 degrees and sunny. So HAH!

Peace, سلام, שלום