Ten cubits of beauty descended into the world, nine were taken by Jerusalem, and one was taken by the entire world. Incidentally, Jerusalem also took part of the tenth cubit, since it also has a part, just like the entire world, for your attention.
This Talmudic beauty, it turns out, is not measured by material beauty alone, such as blooming gardens and the towers of Holyland blooming in the air. Beauty, however individual it may be, cannot hold its title for two thousand years and preserve its initial definition. And if it nevertheless survived, and if it nevertheless preserved, there is probably an inner and deep definition in it, in the legendary beauty of Jerusalem.
Jerusalem – the feeler of the whole country. Even in the theory of the mind, the contemporary and up-to-date one, 'Jerusalem Syndrome' is defined as a type of mild to moderate mental illusion. The somewhat strange phenomenon of hallucinatory intoxication that envelops its tourists who visit it day and night has been studied to the point of tears time and again until it was defined by a name and called a phenomenon. 'Jerusalem Syndrome', then, is a contemporary paraphrase of the nine cabins that Jerusalem the city has taken in the global beauty department.
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It has never been safe here in Jerusalem. Throughout all generations and according to all records of history, Jerusalem has been the legendary focus of friction between Israel and the nations. The aura of holiness, apparently, is what causes the forces of evil to rise up again and again against the chosen people.
It is enough to recall the last thirty years and the bloody attacks that accompanied the daily life of Jerusalemites during the three intifadas (yes, we are in the middle of a third intifada, not at its beginning. And the Torah-obsessed cynics will deny themselves), and our eyes will fill with tears, and sorrow will envelop our hearts as we remember Zion.
It is true, the Palestinians, the British, the Jordanians and the rest who wield the cane and the knife are nothing but the executioners, the messengers of the hand that strikes from above for sins and for deviations from the straight path. But the Jewish heart, beaten and bruised, pierced and stabbed, is the same heart that has been beating vigorously for two thousand years and has not retreated for a moment from the aspiration and desire for peace and the establishment of the kingdom in Zion. Yes, together.
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But the greatest pain begins today, at the moment when we no longer remember how many attacks there have been since the end of Yom Kippur and the beginning of the happiest holiday of the year. When it is difficult for us to remember the names and distinguish between the victims of the martyrs, and not out of forgetfulness or lack of care, God forbid, but out of inability and powerlessness to deal with the terrible blows. When these moments come, it hurts. Really hurts.
When tragedies strike one after another, and when the new blow lands on its own while we lick our wounds and bleed in our hearts from the last intensity of pain, when the wounded are forgotten just because there are so many dead. When this happens, we must wake up and cry out, wake up and cry out. Enough, we have reached our limit.
Our bodies may not have experienced pain or suffered violence, but who can remain indifferent to the testimony of the widow of the knife attack on the way to the Western Wall, who painfully recounts another journey of torment she experienced while struggling with a knife stuck in her back and crying out for help, trying to trust herself in people who were created in her image, and in response, receiving spit and terrible curses wishing for her death, from the mouths of the uncircumcised around her who are sipping a red drink for their own enjoyment. A complete lament could only be written about this terrible incident.
Where is the heart that can contain what small, tender children experienced before they reached school age, in the moments of death that pass before their eyes, when a rifle barrel is aimed at their parents' brains and temples, and only by a miracle does a bullet not pierce their tender hearts as well?.
There is such a heart, it is found by the thousands and tens of thousands within the walls of East Jerusalem and flanks the land for its length and breadth. It is sad, but this heart beats in the bodies of humans who were created in His image. Perhaps this heart has even visited your home, wrapped in layers of body and muscles that have replaced ceramics and porcelain in your sinks and beds.
Our pride is that the Jewish heart is not only as far east and west as the uncircumcised hearts of the Gentiles of the land, but that it cannot even understand and recognize such an evil and cruel heart. – When one of the students of the sages of the previous generation was once asked whether there could have been anything worse than the terrible Holocaust, he replied on a website: "Yes, if, God forbid, we were the murderers.".
The Jewish people, the Jewish heart and the Jewish soul, should be less concerned with statesmanship and advice to those in power, and much more with prayer, weeping, and supplication. For two thousand years now, the Jewish mouth has proven itself by speaking from the heart and not from the head.
Come out and demonstrate, come out and protest. In the churches and in the seminaries, in front of the King of the world, who is thirsty for the prayers of the poor and needy.
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