“I didn’t come for a miracle. I came to be close to Hashem. And that is the biggest yeshuah of all.” This sentiment, shared by one of the regulars of the neitz minyan at the Kosel, encapsulates the desire that drives dozens of woman to make their way to the ancient wall in the stillness of the night
Night never falls at the Kosel.
It’s 4:45 a.m. The muezzin’s call vibrates through the air summoning Muslims to prayer. In these days of rachamim v’selichah though there is competition: the Yemenites’ fluted shofros trumpet our proud allegiance.
I pick my way across the stones with care; they are still wet from their nightly dowsing. I hug myself against the Elul chill. I am here to join a group of women who rise from their beds this time every morning — they walk bus or drive to join the rising sun in its song of praise and thanksgiving at the holiest spot on earth.
I head for the Kosel tunnels. During the day this is the hub of tourists who marvel atWilson’s Arch and the Room of the Hasmoneans. Until 8:30 a.m. though the tunnels are open to the faithful who bask in the opportunity to pray in the spot closest to the Kodesh HaKadoshim.
The tunnels are eerily silent. I walk in deeper deeper until the air is warm and moist the only relief given by huge metal wall fans. Down a small flight of stairs I encounter the largest brick of the Kosel: at over 500 metric tons and 20 feet above then-street level the rock’s placement in the Wall is an engineering mystery. A woman just in front of me stops lays her head against the ancient stone. Perhaps she senses me watch her for she turns around. “Deep in the walls that is where we can find our deepest self ” she says.
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