The very next night was Friday, or “Chabot” which is the
Jewish time of worship held each Friday at sundown as directed during the time
of Moses by the One True God. We wanted to watch Chabot, particularly there at
the Western Wall, the last remnant of God’s temple that had been built on Mount
Moriah. You may know it as the “wailing wall”, the name given to it by the
British when they occupied Jerusalem because the Jews would go there and weep
over the destruction of the temple. We knew it would be so special to see the
Jews celebrate at the Western Wall, and we were not disappointed.
There is a big set of stairs at the west end of the Western
Wall plaza that leads up to the Jewish quarter and so we sat there. It’s a
great view of the western wall which was directly in front of us, and many of
the Jews were coming to Chabot from their homes in the adjacent Jewish quarter
and so they used those stairs to get down to the Western Wall plaza. The crowd
filled in quickly, and we delighted in seeing a spectrum of Jewish culture in
those moments leading up to sundown. From young Jewish couples trotting lightly
down the stairs hand in hand to old Jewish leaders with their tall black hats
and long curly hair ringlets slowly and regally descending the stairs,
sometimes loudly singing prayers the moment they set eyes on the precious stone
of the temple that once stood there.
And then there were these two little Jewish boys.
They had come down the stairs with their dad, mom and a few
sisters. Mom and sisters headed off to the right, as men and women are not
allowed to worship together—there’s actually a divider at the wall to separate the
women’s portion of the wailing wall from the men’s. Dad and the two boys washed
their hands at the ceremonial fountain, and then dad walked down the ramp and
joined a group of other men at the wall.
But those boys had a different plan. At the top of the ramp,
they took off their black jackets and hung them carefully over a chair. Then
smart as you please, they dropped to the ground and ROLLED down the ramp, their
little black ringlets of hair flying everywhere.
My mouth popped open in disbelief. Little Jewish boys goofing
off at the wailing wall. What in the world?!! Dad didn’t pay any attention, and
there were no Jewish guys with their tall black hats around to chew them out as
they were all at the pre-Chabot prayer service.
Then those two little Jewish boys were running to the top of
the ramp, and are you kidding me?!!—ROLLING DOWN AGAIN.
I was rolling too—tears down my cheeks from laughing so
hard! It brought back a memory from my home church of St. John’s in Jamestown
North Dakota. The long wooden pews in the sanctuary sat on a floor made of a
slippery tile that sloped slightly down to the altar. One morning during church
service, I looked down at my feet and there was a pre-school boy, who had
discovered that if you lay on your back and grabbed for the pew above your head,
that you could slide on the floor under those pews all the way to the front of
the church. He had looked up at me as he slid past, grinning ear to ear in his
sweater and clip-on tie.
By sunset, the plaza was crowded with Jews. Women on the
right at their 40 feet of wall and men on the left at their 160 feet of wall.
It was indeed fascinating to watch the men sing and dance as they did. But on
the women’s side old and young alike were dancing and singing in this giant
circle. Their faces were lit up like the sun as they sang those ancient songs and
I was drawn to them like kids to a lit up Christmas tree.
“You mustn’t use your camera.” The Jewish woman was scolding
me, “It is Chabot!” She was one of the “modesty police”, a group of women
volunteers who watch those who come to the wall to make sure all who approach
it maintain the respect of the place.
“Oh, I am sorry,” I replied, tucking my Nikon back into my
bag, “It’s just so beautiful how the women are all worshipping together, I just
wanted to capture the moment and wasn’t thinking.” She smiled at me gently and
said,
“You know, you could join them. You would be welcome.” I was
surprised at the invitation, and watched her for a moment as she smiled at me.
The idea of standing shoulder to shoulder with my Jewish sisters joyfully
singing and dancing together there at the western wall was hugely tempting!
Their heritage was one that I had read about over and over again in the Old Testament
and just to stand among them would have brought me a new sense of connection
with them. The thought of it made my heart pound.
But I didn’t go. For the longest time, I haven’t been able
to figure out why I didn’t go. It certainly wasn’t because I am shy—but I have
come to feel that not joining them has been my only regret about our trip to
Jerusalem. But over the last few days, I think I have begun to understand why I
didn’t join them. You see, these Jewish women go to the wall as they believe it
is the closest that they can get to the One True God that we worship. In fact,
1.5 million Jews from around the world visit the wall during the major
festivals each year because they believe that too. But I don’t need to go to a
wall seven thousand miles away from my home to worship God. Because as a
Christian loved by Christ, I know that the One True God lives in me. I can call
upon The Name of The Lord at any time from anywhere and experience His presence
at its fullest.
But these women don’t know that. Their joyful abandonment in
worship that night at the wall was a tremendous testimony to their devotion to
the One True God, but they remain oblivious to the truth of His Love for us. That
He had already come. That He had died for their sins. That His love is mightier
than they could ever imagine. That the wall is just a shell of the old temple
and that His new temple is the hearts of those who profess that Jesus is the
Christ. Oh, how I wish they could know the truth of His love for us. How much
sweeter would their worship at the wall be for them if they knew that He had
already come to rescue them! That He had already made a way. That His desire is
not worship at that wall, but worship by a heart that has been given to Him, Jesus
the Christ. The savior of the world.
So I think I’ll wait on that dance. I’ll wait until they
know these things that have been branded on my heart since the day I believed
in Jesus. And when He comes again, I will stand shoulder to shoulder with my
Jewish sisters and we will dance and sing praises to our rescuer—for His Love
has covered us. And that will be a time of worship that is far sweeter than
what they have there at the western wall. He is not far away now.
HE IS COMING. HALLELUJAH!!
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