A letter to the woman at the Western Wall
As we wove through the streets of Jerusalem, we were greeted by the smell of freshly baked breads and pizza. This is important because I am used to pizza in my diet and hadn’t had it in over a week. I’d eaten my fill of hummus, veggies, pita, and desserts. I permitted the smell to satisfy as if eating a slice of pepperoni as I walked.
Streets of Jerusalem
We came upon a security checkpoint to the Western Wall. This place is highly trafficked by religious sojourners from all over the world, especially during Lent and Passover. Our guide pointed out the rather small crowd of several hundred of us because of the global awareness of coronavirus. He continued to talk. I started to take it in.
The Western Wall from the women’s side
This place has been in the Muslim Quarter for centuries as they occupy the Temple Mount. Some clothing restrictions apply in this area and even more so if going up to the Temple Mount. Muslims may come and go to the Temple Mount. Non-Muslims can visit at certain hours on certain days. Muslims are free to pray on the Temple Mount. Non-Muslims, including, but not limited to Christians and Jews, cannot pray, sing, wear a cross, or make any motion that seems religious. Days later, I chatted with a Jew who said when he goes to visit, he finds it oppressive to think there is a place on planet earth where he is forbidden to pray to God.
A partition went out for yards from the Western Wall allowing men to enter on the left and women on the right. This Western Wall is the closest anyone can get to what once was the Holy of Holies inside the Temple.The closest some believe we can get to God. The area was filled with white plastic chairs.
My friend, John Miller, did drawings to tell of his trip. He’s an architect and sees life in dimensions!
People, along the peripheral, were handing out slips of paper and mini-golf sized pencils to write down your prayers. I declined. I wasn’t sure what to do. What I wanted to do. What I was supposed to do. If I needed to do anything at all. The practice is to write down a prayer, a gratitude, a thought and place it in the crevices in the wall. I’m told that these pieces of paper are collected monthly and buried.
I made my way towards the wall. It was crowded up close. Women waiting their turn to touch the wall, to place their prayers. Women who left the wall, did so by walking backwards, never taking their sight off the wall.
I was in my own thoughts. And that’s not much. I knew it was just a wall. I knew God hears us all whenever and wherever we pray. (1 John 5:15) So I prayed, “God, what do you want to see?”
I began to look around. Differently this time.
Shimka,
In the far corner, the farthest one could get from the wall, but still inside the partition, I saw you. I presume you’ve come here before. You were praying, of course. I walked closer. You were crying. You were reading the Hebrew Bible. I asked for your name. I told you mine. It’s my way of making a friend or starting a conversation. I think without names, we remain strangers. You told me you knew little English, but I could understand all of what you said. You also told me you cry a lot. We have that in common. I asked one more thing. “Can I pray for you?”
I caught both of us off guard. I didn’t see anyone else praying together. It was a wall of solitary prayers. Horizontal prayers. Your smile gave me permission.
Abba Father.
Something about peace.
Comfort.
Meeting needs.
In the Name of Yeshua, we pray together, Amen.
How it began and ended, this much I remember. I’m certain it was the Holy Spirit who prayed. I would not have thought to call Him Abba or Yeshua. But the Spirit prays and draws us to God. I believe He did so with you and me at the wall that day.
I write you as we both are facing this global pandemic. How are you praying with no access to the Western Wall because of the virus? I want you to know you can go directly to Him with your cares, burdens, and tears. I pray for you right now. I pray you and your family are safe and healthy. I hope as Passover approaches, you and I both grasp more than ever, how much God loved us in sending His Son, Jesus the Messiah, to give His life for us and to conquer death through His resurrection power.
So I ask God once again, on our behalf, Give us this day our daily bread. Teach us to pray. Show us what You want us to see. Amen.
Shalom,
Shauna
(Facts shared come from the Scriptures and from the tour with Insight for Living Ministries. Imagination from my own heart.)
I wrote in Love Where You Live that living in a new place affords us an alertness.
In this moment in history, we have an opportunity to have fresh vision to see how to handle care, crisis, community, and comfort.
As I wrote a letter to Shimka, who in your (1) neighborhood, (2) community/city, (3) state, (4) nation, and (5) world would be blessed by a note from you?
Post Offices are open.
Stamps still accepted.
Email still rules.
Social Media is at its prime.
God doesn’t slumber nor sleep. You can always talk to Him about one another.