Elder mekubal Rabi Shalom Shmueli shrouds his greatness in a shoemaker’s guise
This isn’t some newly donated structure with gorgeous Jerusalem stone facings and a fancy plaque. It’s an old Arab-style building on Rechov Shiloh, with a hodgepodge of additions and renovations that have been built over the years. The beis medrash was expanded a few times, eventually with another one built on top of it supported by external beams, and the rest of the structure a collection of aluminum patches and makeshift bridges.
But what’s missing in opulence is made up for by a spiritual energy — there’s a feeling of sanctity here hovering like a cloud. The aroma of tobacco rises on the singsong of tefillin-wrapped men, some of whom have been studying here for years.
We’re here before Minchah, which will take nearly an hour, as it is recited with all the kavanos of the Rashash (Rav Shalom Sharabi, the great Yemenite kabbalist who lived in the 1700s). The shaliach tzibbur, a carefully selected talmid chacham, ascends the six stairs to the amud, and his eyes scan the Holy Names printed on a sign across from him. The rest of the mekubalim follow in their siddurim.
These kavanos have their own time and rhythm. The brachah of Mechayeh Hameisim of Shacharis, for example, is not at all like the Mechayeh Hameisim of Maariv. Every avodah has its own meditations and cosmic rectifications.
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