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“The Legend (MUST read!)”

Two brothers – one single, the second married with a growing family – split an inheritance from their father. They each received a wheat field on opposite sides of a mountain to support themselves. They would work all day and often spend the night under the stars.

One such night, the single brother lay awake, thinking. “My brother and I have equal sized fields and produce yields of identical measure. But I only need to support myself, while he needs to feed a wife and children. I’ll take ten bushels over to his storehouses.” So in the thick of night he gathered his gift and tip-toed over the mountain.

But when he awoke the next morning he tallied his storehouse and found that no produce was missing. The ten bushels he gave away seemed to still be present. He scratched his head and went on with his day.

That night, on the other side of the mountain, the married brother was reviewing his day. 24 hours before he had realized that while he had no problem supporting his family with his yield, perhaps what was holding his brother back from marriage was a lack of funds. “I’ll take ten bushels of mine and place them in his silo.” He too tiptoed in secrecy, shrouded by the night to deliver his secret gift. But, in the morning, he too found his silo full, as if the gift was never given.

To make sure the whole thing wasn’t a dream both brothers set up similar experiments: to re-attempt the gift giving. And yet, they still found their silos just as full in the morning. Both brothers arrived at the same conclusion: it must be a heavenly sign of approval.

One night, as the married brother carried his gift on his shoulders, he saw a figure – mirroring himself, coming over the peak of the mountain towards him. From the distance, the moonlight was not enough to make out who it was, but he was strikingly familiar. Only when they were nearly face-to-face did the brothers, each bearing gifts, recognize each other.

In that magical moment, everything was understood. Each had thought only about the wellbeing of the other. The outpouring of love and understanding between them at that moment rattled the heavens and reached God’s throne. It was this place that would eventually be selected to the home of the Temple in Jerusalem and its Western Wall, the Kotel.

“The Wall and the Trash”

Salim the Resolute was a fascinating Ottoman conqueror and sultan who brought the entire middle east under his rule. In the year 1516 He set up his main offices in the center of the recently captured Jerusalem.

One day he noticed a woman dumping garbage in a massive heap right below his window.

As a ruler of most of the known world, this brazen act of disrespect flared his anger. He ordered her in for questioning. After some pressure she divulged her secret: “I come from Bethlehem. My family is of Roman descent. My ancestors were among the destroyers of Jerusalem and the exilers of the Israelites.”

“One thing irritated my forefathers more than anything. They had succeeded in destroying nearly every last trace of the Jews. Yet, no matter how hard they tried they couldn’t destroy the Western Wall of the Temple Mount.”

“So my family has a tradition. From time to time we haul our collected trash to Jerusalem to this spot. It has become a massive heap, and we can’t see what’s underneath, but apparently we’ve buried the Wall… which is the best we can do, seeing as the stones have proven indestructible.”

The Sultan saw an incredible opportunity. He took dozens of gold coins and personally buried them deep in the pile of garbage. He then send messengers throughout Jerusalem to spread the news: Take the garbage home. Sift through it. The gold you find is yours.

And within days the Kotel emerged whole and pristine after sleeping in dirt for more than a millennium.

“Governor’s daughter”

Reshid Akif Pasha, a major Turkish dignitary at the turn of the last century, had one daughter who was engaged and approaching her wedding day. During her engagement she fell ill, and the doctors could not connect her symptoms to a root cause. Her prognosis was grim.  An elderly Jewish lady of Spanish descent suggested praying at the Kotel. Akif Pasha agreed and traveled with a delegation to pray at sunrise. Following the prayers they returned home.

He walked up the steps to his front door, still surrounded by his posse. He knocked. And who answered? His brittle, bedridden daughter. But she was up on her feet, with a radiance on her face. She told them that she had prepared breakfast. The shock hit like wrecking-ball. With his eyebrows raised as high as they could go, Akif Pasha spun on his heels and exited his courtyard without another word.

With his attache in tow, Akif Pasha went to the first rabbi he could find, grabbed him by the lapels of his coat with a wildness in his eyes. The stare was deep and seemed to last an eternity Then a different energy washed over him, he bowed his head and released his grip. “There is no other God than the God of Israel. Just know that.”

“The Kotel Kisses me back”

He looked immersed in his prayers, like everyone else. But it was his mythically long, blizzard-white beard that magnetized me closer. But he wasn’t praying at all  Upon closer inspection he was kissing the ancient stones. Gentle kisses. And he wasn’t stopping.

Out of sheer curiosity, not disrespect, I asked him “How long do you plan on continuing?” He answered, “What can I do? The stones kiss me back. How can I leave?”

“Miracle at Midnight”

There are certain customs that set the cream of the crop apart. Tikun Chatzot is one of those.

Tikun Chatzot, literally “The Midnight Rite”, is a custom upheld by the particularly devoted, where prayers are said for the return of the temple and commiseration with the Divine Pain of Israel’s exile is contemplated.

The saintly kabbalist, Rabbi Shalom Sharabi (1720-77), the “Rashash”, organized and led a nightly Tikun Chatzot ceremony at the Kotel. It was a heartbreaking and simultaneously inspiring affair. However, before the Rashash attained international acclaim he sat alone.

This is the story of how he gained recognition:

The Qadi of Jerusalem, an important Muslim judiciary figure had recently moved into a home close to the Kotel and the Rashash’s sob-filled prayers were keeping him up at night. He said a small troupe of soldiers to investigate. When they returned and told him that the rabbi was responsible for the Qadi’s sleepless nights. His response was swift: Kill him.

The soldiers, armed with curved saber, went out to carry out the task. How many seasoned killers does it take to put an end to an elderly rabbi. They unsheathed their swords, crept up in approach and…

Dropped their swords, raised their hands up overhead, and stood frozen.

Obviously, they were unable to return to the Qadi, who, in turn, became nervous and went to check out the situation for himself. He strapped up his sandals, got his staff and went out. The scene left him slack-jawed: twelve soldiers with their weapons on the floor and hands in the air and a few meters away, the Rashash, sitting on the floor and crying. The Rashash looked up and his eyes met the Qadi’s. The Qadi felt an earthquake, soon realizing that it was his own body that was trembling in fear.

Now realizing what kind of godly individual he had threatened, the Qadi begged for forgiveness and the release of his soldiers. The Rashash agreed, and now indebted, it was the Qadi that first spread the message of the Rashash’s holiness and mystical power.