Imagine that you are trying to davven, on a beautiful sunny day in Jerusalem, singing the hallel with your full heart. Add to the scene that you are standing next to a restroom and surrounded by ultraorthodox Jews blowing whistles, throwing eggs at you, and calling you "zonah" (whore), "naziyah" (nazi) and "pritzit" (lascivious), and a blaring PA system trying to drown out your voice. I was terribly saddened by what the Women of the Wall went through this month, in their fight to allow pluralistic worship at the kotel, our peoples’ holiest site. Surrounded by crowds of yelling, whistling ultraorthodox Jews, kept in the back of the plaza by the bathrooms by the police.
Isaiah (56:7) says “my house shall be a house of prayer for all people.” That house is the Temple. What will it look like, when Indians and Native Americans and Christians and Muslims come? What prayer will be said there—one prayer, or a beautiful rainbow of prayers and voices, representing the multiplicity of beautiful human approaches to spirituality? Will the third Temple be an ultraorthodox shtibl, or will it be a mansion, allowing for all ethnicities, allowing for chanting and yoga, allowing for people who call God “Allah” or “Brahman” or “Love”?
It is sad that even segments of the Jewish people are unable to access our holiest site. The women of the wall represent most of the Jewish people, since orthodoxy is really a minority worldwide and a majority in Israel only because they are state funded. But this loud minority is keeping the wall hostage, preventing other Jews from davenning there.
This is particularly apropos in this period before Tisha B’Av, a holiday that marks the destruction of the Second Temple due to sinat hinam, causeless hatred among Jews. When one Jews tries to prevent another Jew from davenning, it is a hateful act, it is sinat hinam. When one Jew calls another Jew’s sincere spiritual expression “childish provocation,” as did Hillel Halkin, it is stupidity, judgmentalism, and sinat hinam.
I pray for the day when people will no longer judge each other’s spirituality, but can celebrate each other. I pray for the day when all peoples’ sincere attempts to bring kedusha into the world are honored and celebrated. I pray for the day when the kotel, the western wall, is truly liberated, is truly a house of prayer for all of us. And until that day, “over these I weep.”