Like so many before us in the long history of the Jewish people, my son Dvir reached the age of 13 last week and became a man, having his Bar Mitzvah. True to Jewish tradition, we joyfully brought our son to the Temple to celebrate.
Whether it's in Temple Emanuel or Temple Beth-El, the happy Bar Mitzvah boy is called up to the bimah to read 
In my son's Temple, reading from the Torah is forbidden.
his portion from the Torah. But in my son's Temple, reading from the Torah is forbidden.
In the temple celebrations throughout the world, Aunt Tillie and Uncle Hymie would be called to light a candle in celebration, but in my son's temple no candles are allowed to be lit.
In many houses of worship, the Bar Mitzvah boy would wrap himself in his brand new prayer shawl; in our Temple, prayer shawls are strictly forbidden. In fact, before entering our Temple a complete body search is done to make sure that even the smallest prayer book is not found on you, for that infraction can very easily land you in prison.
In regular temples, in order to enter one just has to pull the door open and walk in, but not so in our Temple, where if you are a Jew you have to wait outside in the hot sun up to an hour, while non-Jews walk right by you onto the Mount.
For, you see, my son on his Bar Mitzvah day didn't just go to a regular temple in just any city in the United States, but to the Temple of temples in Jerusalem, the Temple Mount, the site of the First and Second Temples. Here, my son connected to his past - the place where our Patriarch Abraham brought his son Isaac to be offered up as a sacrifice to the Almighty, only to be told at the last minute that it was only a test. Here, he envisioned King David purchasing the field of Araunah the Jebusite, the place where King Solomon would later build a House for G-d.
Through the early morning fog, my son was able to see King Herod's Temple standing in all its glory - as our rabbis teach us: Whoever has not seen the Temple which Herod rebuilt has never seen a beautiful building in his life. As the sun burned the fog away, we could see through the haze the High Priest entering with his beautiful garments into the Holy of Holies to ask atonement for the Jewish people. Here, as my son was walking on the Temple Mount, he was laying the groundwork for the future Temple. A new generation, arising in their Land, connecting with their past, but with their eyes to the future.
Suddenly, as if in a dream, the Arab Wakf guards who control the Mount today informed us that it was time to move on, as the Mount would be closed soon to all except for Muslims. The Israeli policeman who had been following our Bar Mitzvah group in order to ensure that, G-d forbid, no Jew should open his mouth in prayer, 
There is no other way to start to rebuild except by taking that first step.
yawned sheepishly as he waited impatiently for our group to finish circling around the Mount so he could get back to his doughnut and coffee.
Today, the Temple is no more; and to ascend to the Mount one must endure much hardship. Still, there is no other way to start to rebuild except by taking that first step, that circular route around the Mount. For what so few people understand today is that there can be no Wall Street for the nations of the world if the walls of the Temple are not rebuilt. And as we left the Mount, we broke into song: "The Temple will be rebuilt, oh yes, the Temple will be rebuilt!"
My son Dvir and his friends could have celebrated his Bar Mitzvah, like so many before him, at some bowling alley or in any other temple in some faraway land, but they chose not to do so. For them, on this Bar Mitzvah day, there could only be one place to go up to - up to conquer the Mount.