Day 1, or, Jerusalem, the Wall, a Museum, and Beer

The first stop today was an overlook just outside the city of Jerusalem. The city is in a valley, so from the hill we were on you could see everything- the Dome of the Rock, the Western Wall, the houses and TV towers. I thought it was kind of surprising how similar it was to the view of Stuttgart, which is hundreds of miles away and has an entirely different history, but also stretches across the bottom of a valley.

From there we went into the Old City and had a tour of the original main street. It was incredible standing in the empty, thousand year old archways and imagining the stores that used to fill the spaces behind them and the people who had crowded in front of them. We wound our way towards the Kotel, or Western Wall, and stopped for a minute to write notes to put inside it. The Wall is considered by many Jews to be the most holy site in Israel, and the world, because it is the closest spot to the Holy of Holies, the inner sanctuary of the Temple that is said to once have housed the Ten Commandments. I didn’t find the Kotel itself to be especially awe-inspiring, but I was really amazed by the emotions expressed by the women around me. For me, the Wall’s importance exhibited itself not in the ancient stones, or the fact that it’s believed to be as close as we can come to God, but in the significance it had for the dozens of women beside me, and for thousands of others worldwide. It was really satisfying putting my note in the stones, because it says I was there, and I experienced that.

The next stop was Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Museum. We saw the Children’s Memorial, a set of pillars of varying heights, ripped off at the top, symbolizing and honoring the different children whose lives were lost. We also walked along a row of trees planted on behalf of the Righteous of the Nations, the Non-Jews who risked their lives to save Jews during the Holocaust. The museum itself was a really interesting building, with a long triangular central hallway and exhibit space on either side. A tour guide walked us through so we didn’t have very much time to explore but I thought the museum was both informative and hopeful (that people would learn and it wouldn’t happen again), which is not a feeling that I had at the Holocaust Museums in D.C. or Berlin. The last room of the museum was the Hall of Names. The walls of the room were bookshelves, some empty and other lined with black binders, each of which was filled with the names of those who died in the Holocaust. Part of Yad Vashem’s goal is to collect the names of all those who lost their lives, and to remember them.

After we exited the Museum we met a Survivor, and he told us his story. Born midway through the war, his parents gave him to a Christian family to raise and he luckily escaped the horrors that many other Jews, including some in his family, had to face. Nonetheless, his life was permanently altered by events he himself could hardly even remember. It’s important to realize that as the years pass, those who survived and remember the Holocaust are fewer and fewer, and our generation will be the last to hear the voices of the Survivors. We all need to remember them and their stories, and to tell them to everyone who would like to believe the Holocaust didn’t happen and to everyone who believes discrimination of any kind is acceptable.

That said, not every Jew died, and we should also enjoy the lives we’re able to lead today. Our group’s last stop of the day was a delicious middle eastern dinner, after which we drove past Jerusalem at night (all lit up and wonderful) on the way to our hotel. Once we arrived most of us took advantage of the fact that in Israel you can drink at 18 and eventually headed off to bed.