College Essay: At The Wall

At The Wall

Encircled by about 15 girls, aware I might be spit on or even attacked, I open my prayer book and put on my prayer shawl. Although I have friends protecting me, I feel uneasy. I get through the morning service quickly, reading lines like a robot, trying to ignore the onlookers yelling at me that what I’m doing is wrong.

My first encounter with the conflict between the ultra-religious and the secular in Israel struck me as I was walking back from the Western Wall on a Friday evening at sunset, meaning Shabbat (the Jewish Sabbath) was starting. Shabbat is a day of rest, so many activities—including driving—are prohibited by Jewish law. As I walked past a road leading to the Old City, where the Wall stands, I saw a little boy, not older than 12, grab a small metal gate and drag it in front of a taxi so that it could not pass. The driver furiously got out of the car, grabbed the gate, and violently snatched it from the boy. He quickly got back into the car and started to drive, but the boy took the gate again and put himself in front of the car to stop it. After it was clear the boy was not moving, the man got back out of the car, pointed to the sunset, and tried to argue Shabbat had not yet started; the child was prepared to put his life on the line to protect the holy day. The boy was trying to stand up for his values, while the driver was doing his job to earn the money he needs to support himself and maybe a family too.

I continued to consider that situation, replaying it in my head as I questioned my beliefs. Although I am a religious Jew and can understand the perspective of the boy, I felt for the taxi driver because it is wrong to impose beliefs on others. Of course, I want to be able to freely express my religion, but it crosses a line when expressing religion becomes imposing it.

I watch the commotion created by the monthly meeting of an organization called Women of the Wall. They convene at the women’s section of the Wall to pray the way they want to: with prayer shawls and head coverings that are traditionally only for men. Some participants hold signs for equality in protest of the status quo. Onlookers scream at the women that what they are doing is wrong. As their service ends, I watch men spit on them as they exit. I hesitantly walk closer to the wall. I have the prayer shawl that I usually pray with in my backpack because I had planned on going to the small, egalitarian area a little farther from the Wall. I look around at some of my friends and nervously ask, “should I put it on?” My friends circle around me to protect me as I carefully place my traditional head covering on my head and put on my prayer shawl. At this moment, I think back to the situation with the boy and the taxi driver. Am I the religious kid imposing my beliefs on others, making the surrounding people uncomfortable? Or am I the taxi driver, having others impose their beliefs on me? I look around at my friends waiting for me to start leading the morning service. I see onlookers watching to see if I would dare. I see little girls watching me. I know that these ultra-religious girls will grow up being taught that they are not allowed to pray the same way men do. I open my prayer book and I pray.