by Yaakov Kessler Arutz Sheva November 20, 2003

I admit and have always admitted that I am one of the absolute worst athletes
God has ever planted on this planet. I remember as a youngster – I could not
have been older than seven or eight years old – playing Little League Baseball
on my Young Israel of Laurelton team. The Laurelton “Laurels” never rested on
theirs, but I somewhat cooled my heels playing “left – out”. I would stand
there in my professional looking uniform with those cool tube socks and my
well-oiled mitt waiting for the ball to come my way. It finally did. I remember
saying, “I got it! I got it!” Silly me, I missed it by a mile.

I visited Har Habayit – the Temple Mount. Without question, Har Habayit is
the most controversial piece of real estate in the entire world. No glittering
casino, no massive high-rise, no toxic waste dump has been fought over as much
as the Temple Mount. The exuberant cries of, “Har Habayit B\x{2019}Yadeinu – The
Temple Mount is in our hands!” still echo through the mind of every Jew. “We got
it! We got it!” our soldiers cried.

Actually, we do not. We missed it by a mile\x{2026} and then some.

At the crack of dawn, I was out of bed, showering and getting ready for a new
day. The initiator of my tour had advised me the night before that I was
required to immerse in the mikveh – ritual bath – before ascending to the Temple
Mount. Admittedly, public bathing is not on my “A”-list of things to do.
Nevertheless, and with great enthusiasm, I went to the local mikveh to receive a
spiritual cleansing (one look at the mold on the walls and I knew that was about
the only type of cleansing I would receive). After that, it was on to morning
prayers and then a short drive to the Old City.

Our guides Rabbis Elitzur and Elboim were seasoned veterans; Rabbi Elboim has
probably logged more visits to the Mount than the local Waqf. Our small group
was greeted with suspicion by the local (Jewish) police commander. The police
officers who are present on the Mount are a nervous lot; theirs is an
untenable and unenviable position. Throughout our visit to the site, we were
incessantly hounded by either the Waqf’s lackeys (in my mind, I had nicknamed them
Tweedledum and Tweedledumber) or by the police themselves: “Keep moving.”; “Don’t
stand in one spot too long.”; “Don’t let us catch you praying.”

Praying at a holy site is apparently a crime in Israel. A provocation, if you
will. Or rather, Jews praying on the Temple Mount is a provocation. We did
not, in fact, pray; yet, we were forced to keep our visit short. We did nothing
that could be construed as sinister (like prostrating ourselves or, heaven
forbid, mumbling a few words to God), and yet, the police demanded that we leave
at one point. The Waqf’s “undercover” agent (Tweedledumbest) interpreted one
of Rabbi Elitzur’s explanations as a prayer and was therefore angered.

Following Jewish law, we did not enter the areas on which the Beit Hamikdash
- the Holy Temple actually stood. Due to our lack of purity (and probably
piety), we have been relegated to stand on the sidelines, quite a distance from
the building site. We can look, but we can not touch. But we may not linger too
long!

I anticipated an epiphany. For years, I have been quietly sulking that I do
not enjoy the cacophony of sounds at the Kotel – the Western Wall, and I find
it difficult to attain an optimal level of concentration. I had hoped,
somewhat, that I might find the serenity of Har Habayit more amenable to my needs. It
wasn\x{2019}t the revelation I expected.

Har Habayit B\x{2019}Yadeinu – The Temple Mount is in our hands? Hardly. To a
certain extent, we were thrown off the Mount and shoved through a little alleyway
door. There were those among us who attempted to soften our rather undignified
ejection by singing toward the site of the Holy of Holies, but, in all honesty,
it did not placate the ire building inside of me.

It is tragic that Israel’s Six Day War-era leaders limited their concerns to
the well-being of our Arab neighbors. It is an even greater tragedy that
latter-day leadership both in Israel and the Diaspora neglect the essence; what
should be the very source of national pride and identity is ignored.

The petty arguing that takes place throughout the Jewish world in general,
and the Israeli Jewish world in particular, is stupefying. Modern day Neros are
fiddling while Jerusalem is burning. Not in a literal sense, but in a
spiritual one.

Har Habayit is in our hands. Each and everyone of us can hold on to it. We
can each attempt to reach a new level of observance, a new level of caring and
middot, a higher level of tolerance for others. And we can each go and visit
the very site where the Divine presence dwelled; as often and as blatantly as
possible. Build the Holy Temple in your minds, but visit the site with your
bodies. Only then will we truly be able to proclaim,\x{201C} Har Habayit B\x{2019}Yadeinu.\x{201D}

I have no intention of resuscitating my ill-fated baseball career. \x{201C}Left-out\x{201D}
is not for me. Count me in. I intend to return to Har Habayit time and
again, until I, and hopefully the rest of our nation, will truly be confident in
claiming, Har Habayit B\x{2019}Yadeinu.

This entry was posted on Friday, November 21st, 2003 and is filed under ourjerusalem.