Around 950 BCE King Solomon built the Temple in Jerusalem, where the nation’s communication with God was to be focused, through sacrifices offered by the priests. At his dedication service, Solomon alluded to a theological problem: “But will God really dwell on earth? The heavens, even the highest heaven, cannot contain You. How much less this temple I have built!”   (1 Kings 8:27)

It turns out that besides a theological question, the construction of the Temple generated a socio-political problem too, as we see from the rebellion that broke out upon Solomon’s death, provoked by anger over the burden of conscript labor required to build his edifices. The result: the permanent split of the kingdom in two – Israel and Judah. (1 Kings 12)

Thereafter the Temple served only Judah, where it became the focus of a new theological division, between those who believed that the Temple and its service were essentially magical, guaranteeing God’s favor if all the rules were meticulously observed, and those who saw the peace and prosperity of the nation as dependent on their upholding the covenant, the laws of the Torah designed to build an ideal, just society. The latter party was represented by prophets such as Isaiah and Jeremiah. For example:

Will you steal and murder and commit adultery and swear falsely, and sacrifice to Baal, and follow other gods whom you have not experienced, and then come and stand before Me in this House which bears My name and say, “We are safe!”?  (Jeremiah 7:9-10)

Jeremiah’s warning that the Temple was not secure if the society was unjust was fulfilled when the Babylonians destroyed the Temple in 586 BCE. The ensuing spiritual crisis was resolved by the development of the belief that Jews could communicate with God through prayer, not sacrifice, and that this could be done anywhere in the world. Still, there was a sense that this was “the next best thing,” and that someday God would forgive us and restore Temple worship. Only fifty years after the destruction, the Persians allowed the Jews to build a replacement Temple, but by then the Jews were too ensconced in their diaspora communities to pack up and return, so Temple sacrifices in Jerusalem coexisted with prayer in local communities.

Later, during the Romans’ rule of Judah, they appointed Herod, the son of an Edomite colonial official, “King of Judea” (34 BCE) after he won a war against the Hasmonean rulers. (The Edomites had been forcibly converted to Judaism by the Hasmoneans.) Herod was infamous for his cruelty and vengefulness, but famous for his grandiose building projects, including a glorious upgrade of the existing Temple.  Needless to say, the labor conscription required for these projects did not endear him to the people. In any case, around 70 years after his death, as a result of the Jews’ rebellion against Rome, that Temple was destroyed.

In expanding the Temple, Herod had had a huge raised platform constructed from massive stones and fill, on which the Temple stood. After the destruction, all that remained was the platform. On its western perimeter, the supporting wall became a symbol and pilgrimage site: the “next best thing” to the Temple itself. Over the years Jewish pilgrims’ access to this wall waxed and waned, depending on the whims of the various rulers, as both Muslims and Christians laid claim to the Temple mount as a holy site, and as everywhere, tended to assume that holiness requires possession and exclusivity. Meanwhile, as the city developed, the mount became surrounded by a dense residential neighborhood, with access to the wall along narrow alleyways.

The British mandatory government tried to maintain the rights of both Muslims and Jews to access the wall, but in 1929, after continuing Arab harassment of Jewish worshippers at the wall, right-wing Zionist youth brought 3,000 demonstrators to the cramped alleys; the conflict escalated over the next few weeks into riots and massacres – and counter-attacks – that left 133 Jews and 116 Arabs dead. This event demonstrates that in our period, the wall somehow morphed from a site of religious mourning and longing into a nationalist symbol – and that like the Muslims and Christians, the Jews too couldn’t separate holiness from possession. From 1948 until 1967 the Temple mount and its wall were under Jordanian control. In 1967, Israel succeeded in conquering all of Jerusalem – a victory memorialized in General Motta Gur’s famous message, “The Temple Mount is in our hands!” Immediately afterwards the neighborhoods along the wall were bulldozed to create a large open plaza; since this was defined as a holy place, jurisdiction was granted to the chief rabbinate, which has since administered the plaza as an Orthodox synagogue, requiring gender segregation.

On the one hand, this reality has been an ongoing source of tension for decades: if the wall is a national symbol, then how can it be an Orthodox synagogue? Protests (e.g., Women of the Wall), court cases, and legislative efforts have attempted to find a compromise whereby Orthodox Jews could pray there comfortably, and other Jews could have access without Orthodox strictures. The latest such compromise, agreed on in 2017 but never implemented, is now under attack in the Knesset, as our government, fresh from victory over Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran, and the supreme court, seeks total victory over liberal Jews as well.

On the other hand, there are those who wonder what all the fuss is about, if, as the kabbalists put it, “There is no place devoid of God’s presence.” For example, the famous rant by Orthodox scientist and philosopher Isaiah Leibowitz (1903-1994):

“Holy place” is a totally idolatrous concept. The Western Wall … is a religious discotheque. It is not even holy. It is nothing. It is a few stones remaining from the wall of the Temple Mount that arouse sincere sentiment…There are even people who think that it is the Lord’s post office! That is really the golden calf!  

… which brings us full circle to King Solomon’s query: “Will God really dwell on earth?” From a secular perspective, this question is raised by the chorus of popular songwriter Yossi Gamzu’s “The Wall”: “There are men with hearts of stone; there are stones with human hearts.” Really?

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)