Paper Prayers

Slips of paper jammed in every crevice. A waterfall of leaflets between the stone bricks. I wondered what secrets each slip contained: Prayers for a family member? An ask for better grades next year? A confession of sin? As I stood at the base of the Western Wall, the small chasms in the holy wall seized my attention. The chanting prayers coming from the men’s side of the wall induced me into a state of rhythmic lulling. Though I noticed the praying women near me — with hands and faces touching the wall, lips mouthing prayers, foreheads tapping the stones — my focus was on the seemingly infinite number of folded notes.

I had my small paper clutched in my hand. I looked everywhere on the wall within my height range to find out where I could possibly stash my prayer. I tippy toed as high as I could and pushed my secret as deep into the crevice as it would go. I didn’t know the proper way to pray. I didn’t kiss or whisper prayers on the wall. I didn’t even know the proper way to dress, as evidenced by my above the knee sundress in a sea of floor length skirts. But somehow, having my note securely fastened in one of the many crevices of the Western Wall gave me a sense of accomplishment and relaxation. Once I was sure that my prayer was secure, I walked backwards away from the Western Wall, feeling engulfed by the endless bricks.

At nineteen meters in height, the Western Wall looks like a vertical road to the sky.