Earlier this week, before the world went to hell in a handbasket over the Flotilla incident, we went to Jerusalem for the Zeve Incident.
A month before a religious Jewish boy turns 13 and has his bar mitzvah, he puts on tfillin for the first time. I say "religious" boys because I have no idea what other Jewish people do. Tfillin, for those who don't know, are phylacteries -- taken from the Greek word phylacteron which means to guard or to protect -- compromised of two small leather cases containing texts from the Hebrew Scriptures (known collectively as tefillin); traditionally worn (on the forehead and the left arm) by Jewish men during morning prayer).
In the world of religious kids, this is a big deal. It is the first overt gesture that identifies them as one of the big kids and removes them once and for all, from the little kid camp. You could probably argue that a circumcision is a bigger deal but no one walks around showing off his modified penis so I am not counting that.
Enough theorizing. Back to the point. Last Monday we got in the car at the ungodly hour of 6:30 a.m. so that we could get to Jerusalem early enough to catch a group for morning prayers -- and before the sun started pelting down on the visitors at the Wall.
Many people who come from outside of Israel hold their bar mitzvahs at the Kotel, the Western Wall, as do some Israelis. Frankly I think it is crazy. First, it is so noisy and full of pandemonium in the morning that as far as I can tell there is no way to have any meaningful prayer there. Yes, the guys who get right up to the Wall and have the incredible ability to shut out any external noise, might not agree with me, but as someone who is easily distracted (as is Zeve) I wouldn't recommned it.
And second, as the mother of the bar mitzvah boy, you might as well stay home. You aren't going to be anywhere near the important activity. You are lucky if the kid agrees to keep his tfillin on long enough to leave the men's section after morning prayers to get his picture taken with you. That way, years later, you can look at the photographs and pretend that you actually played a role in what went down. You didn't, but you can always lie to yourself.
For the mother, the extension of this problem is that by putting on tfillin your son has left you for the world of men. He will no longer be able to pop over for a quick hello to the women's side of any religious prayer environment. And by default, you can never get to him either.
Which brings me to my beef. I almost always have a beef.
There we were at the Kotel -- the Holiest Place in Judiaism -- and the frantic activity of the women's side is comparable to having front row seats at Mardi Gras. Of course, don't try to leave your seat -- you have to drag it around with you -- because someone will take it as fast as you can get your butt off it.
On the one hand we have the serious pray-ers. Some sit along the far fence totally emersed in their prayer. Some are right up at the wall, crying, wailing and hitting it. Why they do this is beyond me -- but prayer isn't my strong suit so what do I know.
Next we have the visiting-from-outside-of-Israel Jews who are celebrating bar mitzvahs. The women sit right up against the dividing wall so that they can pretend to be participating in the bar mitzvah taking place on the other side of the divider. Of course, who knows for sure since it is too noisy to tell. These people yell back and forth over the wall to their men on the other side.
Then, there are the non-religious Israelis also holding bar mitzvahs. The women in these families don't even try to fake humility at the Wall. It often looks more like a Prostitutes Convention than a holy coming-of-age ceremony. Oh, and they bring a smorgasboard along to munch on while they wait for the boy to do his part. I don't think they even try to hear what's going on on the other side.
After that we have the religious tourists who march right up to the wall and start crossing themselves so that we all know there are Serious Christians in the area. Okay, call me oversensitive, but I don't think I would go to another religion's place of worship and start praying in hebrew. Even when I went to holy Moslem sites that Jews firmly believe belong to them, I didn't start up with any Jewish antics. First of all, it might get you imprisoned or maybe killed and secondly, it isn't nice.
So after the hyper-enthusiastic Christian Crossing Fanatics, there are the totally insensitive non-religious, curious tourists who are just looking for a good photograph. These chicks will stop at nothing to hang over onto the men's side of the wall with their cameras in tow. Now, while I do understand that this is a visual curiousity during the week, it never ceases to amaze me that these same insensitive types will continue photographing during the Sabbath prayers. And the fact that the Israeli authorities don't stop it bugs me even more. This isn't a freak show -- well, sometimes it is, but still, you shouldn't photograph it on the Sabbath.
The one good thing that came out of all this people watching was that Yael and I had lots to do for the almost hour that we sat on the women's side waiting for my men to finish. I tried to pray but frankly there was just too much going on.
I just had to wait until it was my turn for a picture with Zeve.
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