I admit and have always admitted that I am one of the absolute worst athletes God has ever planted on this planet. I remember as a youngster - I could not have been older than seven or eight years old - playing Little League Baseball on my Young Israel of Laurelton team. The Laurelton "Laurels" never rested on theirs, but I somewhat cooled my heels playing "left - out". I would stand there in my professional looking uniform with those cool tube socks and my well-oiled mitt waiting for the ball to come my way. It finally did. I remember saying, "I got it! I got it!" Silly me, I missed it by a mile.
I visited Har Habayit - the Temple Mount. Without question, Har Habayit is the most controversial piece of real estate in the entire world. No glittering casino, no massive high-rise, no toxic waste dump has been fought over as much as the Temple Mount. The exuberant cries of, "Har Habayit B?Yadeinu - The Temple Mount is in our hands!" still echo through the mind of every Jew. "We got it! We got it!" our soldiers cried.
Actually, we do not. We missed it by a mile? and then some.
At the crack of dawn, I was out of bed, showering and getting ready for a new day. The initiator of my tour had advised me the night before that I was required to immerse in the mikveh - ritual bath - before ascending to the Temple Mount. Admittedly, public bathing is not on my "A"-list of things to do. Nevertheless, and with great enthusiasm, I went to the local mikveh to receive a spiritual cleansing (one look at the mold on the walls and I knew that was about the only type of cleansing I would receive). After that, it was on to morning prayers and then a short drive to the Old City.
Our guides Rabbis Elitzur and Elboim were seasoned veterans; Rabbi Elboim has probably logged more visits to the Mount than the local Waqf. Our small group was greeted with suspicion by the local (Jewish) police commander. The police officers who are present on the Mount are a nervous lot; theirs is an untenable and unenviable position. Throughout our visit to the site, we were incessantly hounded by either the Waqf's lackeys (in my mind, I had nicknamed them Tweedledum and Tweedledumber) or by the police themselves: "Keep moving."; "Don't stand in one spot too long."; "Don't let us catch you praying."
Praying at a holy site is apparently a crime in Israel. A provocation, if you will. Or rather, Jews praying on the Temple Mount is a provocation. We did not, in fact, pray; yet, we were forced to keep our visit short. We did nothing that could be construed as sinister (like prostrating ourselves or, heaven forbid, mumbling a few words to God), and yet, the police demanded that we leave at one point. The Waqf's "undercover" agent (Tweedledumbest) interpreted one of Rabbi Elitzur's explanations as a prayer and was therefore angered.
Following Jewish law, we did not enter the areas on which the Beit Hamikdash - the Holy Temple actually stood. Due to our lack of purity (and probably piety), we have been relegated to stand on the sidelines, quite a distance from the building site. We can look, but we can not touch. But we may not linger too long!
I anticipated an epiphany. For years, I have been quietly sulking that I do not enjoy the cacophony of sounds at the Kotel - the Western Wall, and I find it difficult to attain an optimal level of concentration. I had hoped, somewhat, that I might find the serenity of Har Habayit more amenable to my needs. It wasn?t the revelation I expected.
Har Habayit B?Yadeinu - The Temple Mount is in our hands? Hardly. To a certain extent, we were thrown off the Mount and shoved through a little alleyway door. There were those among us who attempted to soften our rather undignified ejection by singing toward the site of the Holy of Holies, but, in all honesty, it did not placate the ire building inside of me.
It is tragic that Israel's Six Day War-era leaders limited their concerns to the well-being of our Arab neighbors. It is an even greater tragedy that latter-day leadership both in Israel and the Diaspora neglect the essence; what should be the very source of national pride and identity is ignored.
The petty arguing that takes place throughout the Jewish world in general, and the Israeli Jewish world in particular, is stupefying. Modern day Neros are fiddling while Jerusalem is burning. Not in a literal sense, but in a spiritual one.
Har Habayit is in our hands. Each and everyone of us can hold on to it. We can each attempt to reach a new level of observance, a new level of caring and middot, a higher level of tolerance for others. And we can each go and visit the very site where the Divine presence dwelled; as often and as blatantly as possible. Build the Holy Temple in your minds, but visit the site with your bodies. Only then will we truly be able to proclaim,? Har Habayit B?Yadeinu.?
I have no intention of resuscitating my ill-fated baseball career. ?Left-out? is not for me. Count me in. I intend to return to Har Habayit time and again, until I, and hopefully the rest of our nation, will truly be confident in claiming, Har Habayit B?Yadeinu.
I visited Har Habayit - the Temple Mount. Without question, Har Habayit is the most controversial piece of real estate in the entire world. No glittering casino, no massive high-rise, no toxic waste dump has been fought over as much as the Temple Mount. The exuberant cries of, "Har Habayit B?Yadeinu - The Temple Mount is in our hands!" still echo through the mind of every Jew. "We got it! We got it!" our soldiers cried.
Actually, we do not. We missed it by a mile? and then some.
At the crack of dawn, I was out of bed, showering and getting ready for a new day. The initiator of my tour had advised me the night before that I was required to immerse in the mikveh - ritual bath - before ascending to the Temple Mount. Admittedly, public bathing is not on my "A"-list of things to do. Nevertheless, and with great enthusiasm, I went to the local mikveh to receive a spiritual cleansing (one look at the mold on the walls and I knew that was about the only type of cleansing I would receive). After that, it was on to morning prayers and then a short drive to the Old City.
Our guides Rabbis Elitzur and Elboim were seasoned veterans; Rabbi Elboim has probably logged more visits to the Mount than the local Waqf. Our small group was greeted with suspicion by the local (Jewish) police commander. The police officers who are present on the Mount are a nervous lot; theirs is an untenable and unenviable position. Throughout our visit to the site, we were incessantly hounded by either the Waqf's lackeys (in my mind, I had nicknamed them Tweedledum and Tweedledumber) or by the police themselves: "Keep moving."; "Don't stand in one spot too long."; "Don't let us catch you praying."
Praying at a holy site is apparently a crime in Israel. A provocation, if you will. Or rather, Jews praying on the Temple Mount is a provocation. We did not, in fact, pray; yet, we were forced to keep our visit short. We did nothing that could be construed as sinister (like prostrating ourselves or, heaven forbid, mumbling a few words to God), and yet, the police demanded that we leave at one point. The Waqf's "undercover" agent (Tweedledumbest) interpreted one of Rabbi Elitzur's explanations as a prayer and was therefore angered.
Following Jewish law, we did not enter the areas on which the Beit Hamikdash - the Holy Temple actually stood. Due to our lack of purity (and probably piety), we have been relegated to stand on the sidelines, quite a distance from the building site. We can look, but we can not touch. But we may not linger too long!
I anticipated an epiphany. For years, I have been quietly sulking that I do not enjoy the cacophony of sounds at the Kotel - the Western Wall, and I find it difficult to attain an optimal level of concentration. I had hoped, somewhat, that I might find the serenity of Har Habayit more amenable to my needs. It wasn?t the revelation I expected.
Har Habayit B?Yadeinu - The Temple Mount is in our hands? Hardly. To a certain extent, we were thrown off the Mount and shoved through a little alleyway door. There were those among us who attempted to soften our rather undignified ejection by singing toward the site of the Holy of Holies, but, in all honesty, it did not placate the ire building inside of me.
It is tragic that Israel's Six Day War-era leaders limited their concerns to the well-being of our Arab neighbors. It is an even greater tragedy that latter-day leadership both in Israel and the Diaspora neglect the essence; what should be the very source of national pride and identity is ignored.
The petty arguing that takes place throughout the Jewish world in general, and the Israeli Jewish world in particular, is stupefying. Modern day Neros are fiddling while Jerusalem is burning. Not in a literal sense, but in a spiritual one.
Har Habayit is in our hands. Each and everyone of us can hold on to it. We can each attempt to reach a new level of observance, a new level of caring and middot, a higher level of tolerance for others. And we can each go and visit the very site where the Divine presence dwelled; as often and as blatantly as possible. Build the Holy Temple in your minds, but visit the site with your bodies. Only then will we truly be able to proclaim,? Har Habayit B?Yadeinu.?
I have no intention of resuscitating my ill-fated baseball career. ?Left-out? is not for me. Count me in. I intend to return to Har Habayit time and again, until I, and hopefully the rest of our nation, will truly be confident in claiming, Har Habayit B?Yadeinu.