The Wall is the holiest place where Jews are permitted to pray, the holiest site in the Jewish faith, lies behind it.
Jews came here initially to lament the destruction of the temple by the Romans. Now, the wall is a place of prayer. Pieces of paper with prayers, written to God, are slipped between the cracks of the ancient stones.
The wall has a division line, not one for Jew and Gentile, not one for believers and nonbelievers, but of male and female. I don’t know how others feel about me being here. I wonder that for a moment. I feel like an outsider, but only briefly as I take my place next to the wall.
With my fingertips I touched the stones. I bow my head to pray. I pray for peace and love. I pray for those standing around me with their heads bowed in reverence. I wonder to myself, What is the desire of their hearts? What is weighing them down and what are they taking to the Lord?
Then I notice the folded slips of paper. What words are on those notes, those slips of paper that are tucked into the gaps of the wall. What prayers have been written, what pleadings have been penned?
In that moment I understand, I understand that sacred holy ground can be wherever we are. God hears my prayers and pleadings where ever my feet are. That is where I can find “my” God. Where ever we pause and petition God, to hear our prayers is a sacred holy place.