Amrousi - We waited 2,000 years, and more ...

Emily Amrousi
Israel Hayom
23 September '11

http://www.israelhayom.com/site/newsletter_opinion.php?id=538

On the day the Palestinians began to celebrate their announcement of statehood, hours before the opening U.N. session, I took my eldest son up to the Temple Mount. The area of the mount is disputed, and for the first time, I am entering the inner-most circle.

On the radio, I heard things that sounded like the end of Zionism. But what is Zionism, if not Zion? And what is Zion, if not the Temple Mount? Before the country's borders, before the West Bank, and before Jerusalem, forever and ever, our right to this land is derived from a single rock. A rock of contention, a rock of our existence - you must visit it sometime. Very few Israelis visit it. Even fewer religious Israelis.

We are excited when we visit Rachel's Tomb, celebrate at Meron, fight for our right to the Cave of the Patriarchs; but the Temple Mount is reserved for psychos....

Moses prayed to be allowed to visit this place, and his prayer was not answered. The eyes of Jews throughout the generations have been trained on this site, and we, who simply have to present our identity cards at the entrance, crowd into the backyard instead. It is said that upon liberation of the mount in 1967, soldiers ran to it, searching instead for the Western Wall.

I consider myself to be a rational person, but when someone pointed out the location of the Holy of Holies [the inner chamber of the ancient temple, which housed the Ark of the Covenant], I immediately felt the need to kneel on the ground. In three weeks, if we were prepared for it, the High Priest would enter that chamber on the Day of Atonement and our sins would be forgiven. But we are not yet ready for that, we are not prepared, and instead, Japanese tourists are inside the Holy of Holies, clicking away with their cameras.

I went up to the Jewish people's most sacred place, the foundation of the world, where Abraham was told to sacrifice Isaac, the place from where the Divine Spirit departed, and I felt a need to offer a double blessing - one for he "who has kept us alive, sustained us and brought us to this time," and one for "the true judge of all." I understood this as a time when happiness mingles with humiliation. A Jew is not permitted inside the Temple Mount wearing a talit (religious prayer shawl), a Jew can't pray or sing there, and a Jew can't even cry there.

Near the X-ray scanner, I was asked if I had a siddur (Jewish prayer book) in my bag. The tour of the mount was accompanied by stern-looking police officers and representatives of the Waqf (an Islamic body with authority over the Temple Mount). When someone raised their hands in the air, the officials jumped on her. When someone moved her lips in silent prayer, the officials threatened to remove her from the grounds. I bent down to photograph my son, and when I straightened up again I realized I had defeated the officials by kneeling at the holy site.

The Waqf has removed every sign of ancient Jewish presence at the site. At the entrance, a Waqf sign says "The Al-Aqsa Mosque courtyard and everything in it is Islamic property." The Al-Aqsa Mosque was built on the ruins of historical temple gates. In Solomon's Stables, there is no longer any trace of archeological artifacts. Beside the locked Gate of Mercy, wooden pillars that archeologists have dated to the First Temple era are strewn about among piles of garbage.

A group of tourists passed by, and they said they were from Baghdad. The policemen with us, Mario and Hussein, conversed with them in Arabic. Young Muslim children played soccer nearby. Men with the Koran opened in front of them swayed back and forth, just like yeshiva students do when studying their texts.

So close, yet so far. Opposite the temple, at a spot close to the Foundation Stone, where one is permitted to stand according to Jewish law, I hear the prophet Haggai shouting "So is now the time for you to be living in your own paneled houses, while this house lies in ruins?" I take a step back, and, with my lips closed, whisper the prayers of all Jewish generations, under the watchful eye of the Waqf official.

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