kotel

Running Into a Wall: Andrew Morchower

Ever since I had realized my religion was Judaism, I also knew that I would have to make a pilgrimage to Israel. This trip purported to strengthen my ties with religion. Being the agnostic I am, this trip meant no more to me than to explore a historically intriguing country and get a nice tan. Judaism had never really stood for much in my life except a list of morals to live by, and a reason to be absent from school every once in a while. This was true until my visit to "the most sacred place on earth".
While walking down the jagged stone path which lead to the fabled wall, I remembered the stories that other people, who journeyed before, had told to me. My mother claims that she asked God for a spouse at the wall, and a few months later she met my Dad. I had traveled half way around the world to pray at a wall? At the time I felt like a typical person being sucked into the

persuasions of devout religion; nevertheless, I intended to uncover the validity of these reminiscences.
They were hugging the wall, kissing the wall , shouting the wall like it was God standing before them; all praying a different way. After taking this whole picture in, I proceeded to the wall adorned in my full tourist attire; army pants, T-shirt, a canteen around my waist and a backpack clenched to my back. Every Ultra-Orthodox Jew, in their uniform jet black
suits and hats, was vehemently stared me down as if to insinuate that I should not come near "their" wall. Intimidation maintained a firm grasp, but it did not prevail. I knew that, although I looked, prayed and acted differently, I had as much a right to be there as they did. Now over the last impediment of my journey; I had nothing left to do except pray and wait for an influential miracle that would alter my life.
While having my casual one sided chat with God where I thanked
him for everything and told him about some humorous aspects of my life, I
was also caressing, hugging and kissing the wall, in order to fit in with the locals. Besides being excited about the location of where I was praying, I felt no different than when praying at home or in temple. It was futile. My views of religion had not changed at all.
Eventually I became bored of talking to God, so I said my good-bys and prepared to perform the traditional act of putting a "wish list" in the wall. I pulled out the tightly folded piece of paper where my requests to God had been written. As I was trying desperately to wedge my piece of paper in a nook that did not exist, I took a good look at the rectangular limestone blocks in front of me. There I saw the reason my parents had put me on a plane to Israel. All those pieces of paper told me a story of who and what I am. Most of my ancestors have been able to visit and pray at the same site that I was at. As I forced that piece of paper in the wall, I realized that numerous generations of Jews have hoped for the same fortunes at this site. All of those moldy scraps of paper contained the same dreams of family, health and peace.
Now I drive the streets of Dallas as the same almighty teenager that I was before traveling to Israel. I am not a "born again" Jew, and do not pretend to know more about God than when I left. Although I am still confused about God and my heritage, I see how Judaism, through its moral guidelines, has helped me to become a good person. By knowing this, I will continue to practice Judaism and make sure that my children will be able to benefit from Judaism during their lifetimes.