Fifty-four years ago, Egypt, Jordan, and Syria
attacked Israel, vowing to destroy the tiny, Jewish state. Thankfully, they
didn’t succeed. Not only did the country survive, but it also miraculously
liberated dozens of Biblical towns and holy sites. No one alive then can forget
the impassioned cry of “The Temple Mount is in Our Hands”. A week later
hundreds of Jerusalemites made their way to the Kotel for Shavuot holiday
Since then, every year, except for last year when
Corona shut down so many activities, the Kotel is the site of day-long
celebrations to mark the reunification of Jerusalem. This morning my husband
and I drove to the city, parked our car a kilometer away from the Kotel, and
had a pleasant walk there. Once at the Kotel we went our separate ways for
meaningful, morning prayers. Halfway through the services, though, we were
interrupted by the loud, popping noises of tear gas cannisters and stun grenades
on the Temple Mount. From the Al Aska mosque rocks were hurled down upon some
of the worshippers.
It was hard to concentrate. It was hard to
hear. For the first time, in a very long
time, I was discouraged that redemption was on its way. Instead, I feared we’re
on the brink of another war, G-d forbid.
Suddenly, though, I remembered a lesson we all
know. It’s always darkest before the light. Labor pains are the worst right
before the birth. Recalling this, I felt a slight surge of optimism.
Please, HaShem, let us see the light at the end
of the tunnel. Please make it happen speedily. Please no more wars or terror or
plagues or tragedies. Please bring the
world true peace.