The truth is, I didn't particularly want to go tothe service/demonstration at the Western Wall/the Kotel in Jerusalem on the morning of December 18th. The contemplative in me has difficultymixing political demonstration with prayer at holy places. I always feelalienated by the distinctly unequal separation of men's and women's sections atthe Wall. But when I approach the Kotel,I want to be silent and alone amidst the crowds. I want to get as close to thewall as I can, go inside and see what prayer needs to emerge from within me atthis holiest of Jewish places.

I knew that it wouldn't work for me to mix myfeminist activism with trying to pray the morning service for Rosh Hodesh (thefirst day of the month, a day of special meaning for Jewish feminists). But I also needed to be there. The Women of the Wall have been holdingprayer services at the Kotel since1988, often with violent opposition from ultra-Orthodox men at the site. Thismonth, the last day of Hanukah and the first day of the month of Tevet, aspecial call had gone out encouraging women to come, in protest of last month'sarrest of an Israeli medical student for wearing her prayer shawl visibly inthe women's section of the Kotel. The group's agreement with the courtswas that we would wear our prayer shawls under our coats and not read from theTorah in the area of the Kotel. Coordinators intended to push the rulesjust a little. Communities allover North America had even organized their own Rosh Hodesh services insolidarity. I could not absentmyself.

The weather was miserably cold and rainy. Huddled together trying to hear thebeautiful voice of the woman prayer leader and shield ourselves from the rain,we gathered, our tallitot/prayershawls not completely hidden beneath our coats. Within minutes my raincoat and shoes were soaked through andmy umbrella had broken in half, now useless against the rain. I prayed the service from memory so asnot to get my prayer book ruined by the rain. Truly, though I sang along, I was unable to pray.

From the men's section came the powerful sound ofmany ultra-Orthodox men shouting threateningly, "You should be ashamed ofyourselves!" "Leave this place" "You are profaning the sacred place!" "There is a church for you over there!"And many, many repetitions of the single word, "Filth!"

Years of political wrangling with the courts had notbeen for naught. The police wereout in force before the service began at 7 A.M. But for once, instead of blaming the women for inflaming themen as had happened in the past, the police were clearly there to protectus. The senior officer confrontedour chairperson, recognizing that she was pushing the boundaries of the legalagreement. But when the men beganto approach us, now screaming from behind and above us, the police placedthemselves between the men and us, physically shielding us from their threateningpresence.

Some of the women seemed to be in prayer, their eyestightly closed, drenched prayer books in hand, singing out the words of theprayers in full voice. I don'tknow how they could pray in the midst of this, surely not the words of praiseto God that filled the morning service.At least when we reached the Hallel, the special section of psalms ofpraise recited on Rosh Hodesh, the liturgy led us through words that I couldsing with fervor. "From the depthsI have called out to You, O God.You have answered me in wide expanse." "Oh God, save us.Oh God, vindicate us."

God save us from the extremists that afflict allcommunities. God save us from theviolence we inflict on one another.Dear God, heal the violence in all of our hearts, and bring special blessing to all those who pray for justice and peace.