Upon this 2500-year-old rock, the Wall, the last remaining outer structure of the Second Temple survives. Built in ancient historical Israel, it has withstood wars and natural disasters. Throughout time, Jews have worshipped at this Holy site. In the Diaspora, Jews face east, always toward the Wall and Jerusalem. Large and imposing, powerful and humbling, there is nothing, if it could speak out loud, that the Wall has not born witness to. If it could talk, what would it say? How many bodies has it felt against its face? How much history has walked past? Our fleeting lives are brief against the power and life of stone. Hard, as reflected in this barren rock. Animals make this place their home. Sacrifices were made against this Wall. Religious Jews obediently honor its role in their lives. It has become the religious icon and metaphor for the Jewish people around the globe. There is no greater symbol, image or reality.
Like the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, this stream of prayers flows downward, merging together into a larger waterway, as gathering prayers swim into its currents, moving them along into a swift, narrow and powerful force. In the top right hand corner, other water outlets, from an unseen source plunge larger prayers downward. How can prayers reach so high and still be seen? In the top far left corner, more prayers, little ones and large, long and short, intense and fast, move quickly, finding more outlets along its way. Merging and blending, swiftly unending, last minute pleas swell and flow, as together in mass, yet each sent alone, voices beseech as one great, silent moan.
Dear God. Keep your children of Israel safe. Have mercy on our souls. Give us the strength to recognize and fight our enemies. Protect and guide us. Keep us in Your care. And then, I hear His answer. I remember His words.