At the Kotel

I went to the kotel last week. We don't go very often, and usually with kids. This was quieter (just us grownups) and I was hoping to get some time to think.

I moved through the rows of chairs, forward and to the right, and up the steps towards the inside room which fits no more than 10 women; it offers privacy and intimacy for prayer, quite a different feel from the outdoors public affair that praying at the kotel typically involves. I felt that the privacy would be soothing, but I only lasted a few minutes. I kept fidgeting and looking through the door at the sunshine and breeze.

So back down I went, and as I took the last step, a woman appeared within my sight. She looked middle-aged and heavy-set, wearing a plain cotton dress with a shawl, a scarf covering her head. She held her hands outwards, and called her tefilot out intentionally loudly, with a voice that carried. While she chanted her prayer, she jumped up and down, rhythmically, in time to her words:

I love Eretz Yisrael, more than I love my own body!
I love Am Yisrael, more than I love my own body!
I love Hashem, more than I love my own body!

I found her mesmerising. I loved the brashness of her statements, and the loudness of her declarations. It seemed to me she was teaching people how to pray: honestly, wholeheartedly and with humility. (It doesn't fit our typical definitions of humility, to jump and yell in front of a crowd, but read those words again.)

Then I opened my siddur to pray. And closed it again. I spent some time thinking about what to pray for. Truly, that time was a luxury that I cherish. Because when you stand at the kotel thinking about what you want to pray for - right here and right now - it had better be good. And by "good" I mean, genuine and true. When we can figure out what we want from life, when we know what to ask for, it is a beautiful and precious thing.

(Photo: This is not a picture of me! I took this picture with the praying woman's knowledge)

Life After Baby: Our Bodies, Ourselves

We give birth, and our bodies, our miraculous amazing bodies that produced the complete package of a new human being, appear to betray us. Right after birth, they go stretchy, leaky, achy and needy. What’s this? You have, till now, been a strong capable woman; why is your body not letting you get up and strut your stuff?

The baby is, say, two days old, you know his face, the shape of his hands, the way he relaxes while nursing. Your beloved says something casually about picking up a book or carton of milk, and he pops out to run an errand. You are completely alone except for the baby, which is fine, which is better than fine, it’s wondrous. You are curled up on the couch together, and you are admiring his impossibly long eyelashes, when you suddenly realise that you cannot wait one more second for a long drink of cold water. You look around, and realise that the only water carrier candidate around here is you. “Fine,” you think cavalierly, “I can do this. How hard can it be?”

You forgot how tired your muscles are, and how you have this dragging sensation in your lower half when you stand. How walking requires actual effort. When you walk up the two stairs to your kitchen, you cannot just stride up, but place both feet on each step, one after the other. You stand in front of the open fridge drinking your ice-cold water, gulp by gulp, and realise that you are actually contemplating the walk back to the couch, the walk you have made, oh, about a million times without a moment’s thought. What is it, a matter of fourteen steps? Isn’t that something? Just fourteen steps, and you’re girding your strength for the long trek back.

When you try to explain this to your mother later, she’ll nod and say something supportive about how tiring it all is, but really what you mean is: Isn’t it unbelievable? That my body just switched gear like that?

It is unbelievable. Your body carried life and brought it into the world. And now it demands rest and food and drink and nothing more. It begs you: nothing more, please. Your body has worked so hard that it is now forcing you to sit and rest. Your energy is going to be used exclusively to nourish the baby and to heal your body. You can trust your body. It is awesome.

(Photo credit: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Stilles_Mineralwasser.jpg)