Reflections on Rosh Chodesh Av with Nashot HaKotel- Women of the Wall

At 10 minutes to 7:00 a.m. I and a few friends approached the Old City through the Dung Gate where were summarily stopped by police barricades.  "You're not permitted to enter" the police officer politely (yes, politely) explained.  Knowing that our plans were to stand with the nearly 500 women and men who came together for prayer and to support religious pluralism and tolerance, we were crestfallen at the prospect that our opportunity would be denied. We began to reason with the officer, "It's not yet 7:00 a.m., why can't we enter before it begins?" "What if we walk all the way around and enter through a different gate?" The response was a shrug.  Then, a commanding officer waved over to the officers in front of the barricade permitting us to enter.  Welcome to Israel.

We then entered the Kotel plaza expecting to make our way toward the women's section where the group has typically met for 25 years. Instead, we were streamlined through a narrow path along with hundreds of young Haredi girls and boys, clearly present en masse to protest the gathering known as Nashot HaKotel, the Women of the Wall.  The women's area was flooded with young girls, bussed in for the sole purpose of preventing the group from encountering this national shrine, HaKotel HaMaarivi - the Western Wall.

We were met by yet another barricade, set up for the Nashot HaKotel. Two rows of police officers were lined up along the barricades, where a group of men in black hats, black suits and white shirts were screaming and singing to drown out the prayers of the women.  There were women also in front of the barricades wailing and later blowing whistles to undermine and distract the attention of the praying group. Hundreds of girls and boys, men and women stood off from a distance. The entire open space of Wall plaza was throbbing with attention to this seemingly infectious presence.  Despite the heavy security, eggs and bottles of water were thrown into the area where the women and men stood together and prayed.  And I chose to go right into the center of it all.

Once again, I asked to enter through the barricade to join the prayer group, and was politely (now more curtly) told no.  I was directed to walk all the way around the plaza and enter from the exit route.  I made my way there, and was still met with policemen watching the movement of people throughout the area carefully.  I asked to enter through the exit area - the only way we were now permitted to go. The irony of such a situation should not be overlooked.  The officer said, "No.  The area is closed."  I replied, "But the other officer instructed me to enter here."  Still facing yet another possibility of a failed opportunity to participate, I waited patiently to see if he would change his mind like the other officers. Moments later, looking here and there, the officer motioned to the man inside the gate and proceeded to let me in.  I'm an Israeli now, I guess.

The prayer service was fluid and complete, despite the many distractions from the crowd outside the barricades.  The highlight of the entire prayer experience was when a young woman, aged 12 ascended the plastic chair that served as the bima and proceeded to read from the Torah for her Bat Mitzvah. (The compromise of the recent court decision mandated that the Women of the Wall could not carry a sefer Torah into the Wall precinct, so they made do with a book.)  The young woman read beautifully and upon completion of her aliyah, there was a small group of women that sat her down on that same chair and lifted her up as the hundreds of people surrounding her sang, "Siman Tov u'Mazal Tov!"  It was indeed the most moving and the most authentic moment of the entire experience.

Rosh Hodesh Av is significant in that it marks the month in which the Jewish people mourn and bewail the destruction of the Temples in Jerusalem and the calamities that have befallen our people throughout history.  There is always a paradoxical feeling to this time period because the modern State of Israel is a reality, and the throngs of people who come to the Temple pray for more than just the restoration of the Temple and the reinstitution of sacrifces.  There is also a prayer that peace will reign in Jerusalem, that the Temple will be rebuilt in our time because we will have merited such a gift. So many of us will mourn this 9th of Av for what has not come to be - that we still bear witness to a people divided, to a Judaism for some and not for all.

The paradoxes I felt the most that morning were in the faces of the young Haredi girls, looking in on the group while we prayed, curious how such an expression of prayer and identity could exist.  I imagine that ultra-orthodox Jews get a fair share of looks from strangers who don't understand their beautiful ways of observing the Jewish tradition.  It was as if those who were looked upon were the ones gawking and staring this morning.  Word is that some of the Haredi girls have joined the Nashot HaKotel in the past.  The Haredi leaders who pressured these young girls to get up very, very early in the morning may have inadvertently opened the girls' eyes up to a most profound truth - women have power and can express themselves powerfully with dignity and integrity, even in the midst of hurtling eggs, whistles, screaming, and water bottles.

I am not concerned that Nashot HaKotel will have to fight for religious freedom and tolerance for much longer.  The most hopeful outcome for them is that the young ultra-orthodox school girls, there watching this expression of sincere devotion, will come to learn that they too can pray with and for themselves, in full accordance of Jewish and Israeli law.  My prayer is that they can stand up, not on plastic chairs but on bimas in synagogues throughout the world, and chant from the Torah like that Bat Mitzvah girl did and someday fully share in the awesome responsibility of carrying the Jewish tradition forward too.