By Larry Gordon
They stand out as brand-new memories, but are also seared into my mind and will likely last forever. These two weeks in Israel included a historic American presidential visit that turned a city on its head, with dinners, receptions, warm words, and even promises that might or might not be kept. But that is not what stands out in my mind.
The two occasions, or experiences, were first the citywide, countrywide, and even worldwide celebration of Yom Yerushalayim with an exuberance that was beyond expectation, and then celebrating Shavuos in the Holy City.
Those days opened up new vistas in our experience of Eretz Yisrael in these modern times of ours. A great deal of the excitement and exhilaration was not having experienced these observances previously and not knowing what to expect from moment to moment. The date on which the actual liberation of Jerusalem from Jordanian occupation took place was 28 Iyar, or back in 1967 on June 7, which we celebrated last Wednesday.
So here are a few observations about the 50th anniversary of the day Israeli forces battled to unify Jerusalem followed a few days later by the quick but also intense celebration of yom tov here.
We heard that the streets in central Jerusalem would close at about 2 p.m. on that Wednesday. That meant the street would be open for one day in the aftermath of President Trump’s visit, which brought almost everything to a halt in this area on Monday and Tuesday. Walking up Gershon Agron Street at about noon, there was a sense that the day was about to be transformed. On Agron and then again on King George Street, right in front of the Leonardo Plaza Hotel, there was a stage set up on which live bands would begin playing at about 3 p.m. and continue nonstop until nightfall.
I never could have imagined how the streets would quickly become flooded with people—young and not so young, couples, singles, families, and baby carriages were in evidence everywhere. There were seminary students and yeshiva boys, with a sprinkling of Chassidic young men as well. It quickly became clear that this was a celebration for everyone here. This was the center of Jerusalem, and this was the way we would not just be celebrating Yom Yerushalayim but would with our voices and our feet bring to the front the core issue of Jerusalem that the world out there says is a point of contention.
We began our participation in the festivities in what some consider the less-controversial part of West Jerusalem that has always been a part of the modern state of Israel since its founding in 1948 and prior to that as well.
for the 50th anniversary of the city’s reunification
A march was about to take place, demonstrating the unity of west and east. A world critical of Israel believes that there is some kind of palpable and even dangerous dividing line between the different parts of this city. The eastern and western parts of the city are actually divided by one of the most upscale and attractive shopping malls in all of Israel—the Mamilla Outdoor Mall. This probably sees more pedestrian traffic than any other shopping arcade in the country. There is a steady stream of people in and out of popular stores like Zara, Mango Shops, Tommy Hilfiger, and American Eagle, a couple of makeup emporiums, jewelry stores, and at least a half-dozen or more restaurants.
This is where the hotel-staying tourist population is located. Right across the street from this mall is the David Citadel and Waldorf-Astoria hotels. A bit up one street is the historic King David Hotel and then down and around the same street is the Inbal Hotel—all popular jaunts for tourists, many from our area of New York.
The Mamilla Mall leads you right up to the stairs a few hundred feet from the Jaffa Gate, the busiest of all the entrances leading into the Old City. And we are supposed to entertain serious discussions about dividing Jerusalem again along the boundary lines as they existed prior to 1967? According to this far-fetched dream, that could mean that either Jordanian or at the very least UN troops would need to be stationed at H. Stern or some other store in the mall, which might one day, according to this wild notion, be on one side of this imaginary border or the other. The existence of this mall and these hotels is testament to how completely detached from reality some of these international diplomacy ideas are.
During our experience on Yom Yerushalayim, it was impossible to move much in proximity to these parts of Jerusalem that straddle this once-upon-a-time and now imaginary border. At one point we grabbed flags that were readily available and joined the marches, first down Agron past the American consulate, then turning left in the direction of the usually volatile Damascus Gate area, also known as Sha’ar Shechem. Just before the steep hill that once again turns downward, there were a plethora of protesters with signs and flags denouncing the Israeli presence in Jerusalem and decrying the so-called occupation and so on. But none of that stopped the beautiful, giddy, and joyfully wild dancing in the streets. There was a great deal of flag-waving and jumping around with friends.
It is difficult to internalize that it has been 50 years since those fateful and miraculous days of the Six Day War. Israel fought hard and sacrificed a lot. More than 800 people—mostly members of the IDF—lost their lives during those six days of 1967.
Ezer Weizman, head of the Israeli Air Force, was asked following the Six Day War to what he attributed Israel’s extraordinary success during this very brief war against five Arab armies. He adapted the characterization of Pharaoh’s advisers trying to explain the miracles that were wrought as the Jewish nation exited Egypt during the Exodus: “It is the Finger of G‑d,” he said.
This leads to the next part of our trip. For Shavuos morning, the plan was to be up part of the night studying Torah and then getting a few hours rest before proceeding to the Kotel for Shacharis with the sunrise at neitz. This was our first time in Eretz Yisrael for Shavuos. I jumped out of bed at 3:30 a.m. to look down at the street, partly obscured by buildings, from our terrace at the magnificent Waldorf-Astoria. I knew that back in New York there would be a smattering of people on the street at this hour. But what about here in Jerusalem? I planned on walking through the Old City at this rather unusual hour. What could I expect?
Looking out, I actually saw a few people walking down King David Street, which added a little more courage to our endeavor as I felt that at least we would not be the only ones on the street. Anyway, you know how sometimes you misjudge something not just slightly but absolutely and completely? This was one of those occasions.
Once I walked a few steps out of the hotel, I immediately became aware that something unusual was going on out here on the streets of Jerusalem. It was 4 a.m., but to paraphrase The Sound of Music, the streets were alive with people on a mission.
“Does everyone have the same idea?” I thought to myself. We entered the mall, where all the stores were closed, as we made our way to the Jaffa Gate. As we walked along the way just a little bit after 4 a.m., I became aware of more and more people around us walking at a brisk pace as minyanim were probably going to begin in a few minutes—certainly by 4:30 a.m.
Once we arrived at the Kotel Plaza, the crowd gathered there evoked a middle-of-the-day feeling. Who is like this people Israel who, amongst other things, turns the nighttime into the middle of the day? We split up, my wife wading her way into the women’s section, while I headed for the men’s side to look for a minyan that hadn’t started yet, so that I could say Kaddish.
As I looked and walked around, I was overwhelmed by a spiritual awesomeness, a ruchniyus type of euphoric moment that seemed for that brief time to be a merger of heaven and earth.
I found a minyan, but the chazzan was davening painfully slowly. Then I realized that it was a “vasikin” minyan, and no matter how slowly he went, we would all be starting Shemoneh Esreih at 5:24 a.m., the moment that it was determined the sun would be peeking through the horizon. My estimate is that there were 20,000 or so people there, ready to daven with the sunrise and celebrate the giving of the Torah on Zeman Toraseinu.
We all sang Hallel with an unbridled joy that was so fulfilling. The crowding was intense, with little room to maneuver. Nevertheless, we made it in and then we made it out of the Old City, using the closed mall once again as our exit route.
Shacharis at the Kotel as the sun began to rise was the other frozen moment along with the superb celebration of Jerusalem Day. I think that Yitzchak Rabin, who was not known as a religious man or a big davener, might have best captured the essence of all this. I doubt if he ever walked to the Kotel to pray with the sunrise, but he did take at least one historic trip there and ambled in this direction—and that was a half-century ago this week in June of 1967.
Yitzchak Rabin’s politics were misguided, in my estimation, but he did get this one right. In a telegram sent by him as chief of staff to sum up the victory that changed the face of Israel forever, Rabin quoted from Hallel: “This is the day that Hashem made; we shall exult and rejoice on it.”
Comments for Larry Gordon are welcome at editor@5tjt.com.