Subscribe
Share
Share
Embed
Stories of Divine Providence at the Western Wall (The Kotel)
Open up your hearts to an unbelievable story. He was born to a life of privilege and as the times mandated rebelled fiercely when he was 19. Donning the faded torn denim uniform of his generation, Joey Rickles dropped out of college, quit his part time job and announced to his widowed father that he was taking off for India in search of enlightenment. Sensitive and psychologically astute, his father, Adam Rickles, withstood this blow with equanimity and grace, heeding the advice of his friends who canceled patience, tolerance and love. Joey was acting normal for his age, he explained, and the storm would soon blow over.
Speaker 1:So Adam told his son that he understood he was testing his wings, carving out his own unique identity, and he assured him that he accepted the convulsions erupting in his life with sympathy and understanding. When Joey revealed one day that he had broken with his religion, his father snapped. Adam Rickles was a Holocaust survivor. His entire family had been murdered by the Nazis and he alone had withstood the barbaric hardships of three concentration camps. Upon learning that he was the sole survivor of his family, he had silently pledged that the religion that his relatives had died for would not die with him.
Speaker 1:Although many survivors had come away with the opposite attitude, abandoning the religion of their youth in anger and pain. Adam's perspective had been quite different. To divorce himself from the religion of his murdered relatives would be no less than a betrayal of their lives and death. In Cleveland, Adam had clung tightly to his Jewish traditions and religious rituals, carefully incorporating them into his family's day to day existence. He sends his children to Hebrew Day School, took them to synagogue, and saw to it that they adhered strictly to religious law.
Speaker 1:He was proud that they had raised religious children who would carry on the family's heritage. But now his own son was announcing that he was scorning this very legacy, making a mockery of his family's losses. Adam could countenance anything but this. Get out of here, he screamed at Joey. Get out of my home.
Speaker 1:Never come back. You're not my son. I just own you from my heart, from my soul, from my life. I never want to see you again. Well, that's just fine with me, Joey shouted back.
Speaker 1:I never want to see you again either. In India, Joey traveled from guru to guru seeking wisdom spiritually, concrete answers to life's elusive mysteries. During his travels, he connected with Sarah, his female counterpart in many ways. She too had dropped out of a religious Jewish home and was looking for another spiritual path. They were certain they were soulmates.
Speaker 1:They had been together for six years when Joey accidentally encountered an old classmate from Cleveland on a street corner in Bombay. Joey and Sammy embraced happily. Unbelievable, they told each other. They were avidly trading the stories of their respective adventures when Sammy's eyes clouded and he said somberly, Hey Joey, I was really sorry to hear about your dad. My dad?
Speaker 1:Joey repeated dumbly. What do you mean? Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Then you don't know. Know what?
Speaker 1:Joey, your father died a couple of months ago. No one wrote to you? No one knew where I was, Joey replied slowly, dumbstruck. What did he die of? A heart attack.
Speaker 1:Not a heart attack, Joey said, his eyes welling with tears, more like a broken heart. And I'm the cause. I killed him. I killed my own father. Joey, don't be ridiculous, Sarah murmured, touching his shoulder in compassion.
Speaker 1:You had nothing to do with your father's death. Sarah, you're wrong, Joey answered. I had everything to do with my father's death. For a few days afterwards, Joey lived in a stupor, dazed with grief and remorse. He couldn't shake his overwhelming certainty.
Speaker 1:The pain he had inflicted on his father had taken his life. In the back of his mind, he'd always hoped for reconciliation. Somehow he had been sure that a loving reunion would one day take place. Now he would never be able to ask for his father's forgiveness, a return to the warm embrace of his love. He would never have the closure, the resolution that He so desperately needed.
Speaker 1:Sarah, I can't go on like this anymore. India tastes like ashes to me. I know you'll think I'm strange, but I have to go to Israel. Israel? Sarah said.
Speaker 1:Why do you want to go to Israel? I just feel a pull. I can't explain it, Sarah, but I have to go. Okay. So we'll go, she said unhappily.
Speaker 1:When the plane landed, Joey turned to Sarah and said, I wanna go pray. Are you turning weird on me, Joey? She asked. Sarah, please. Okay, okay.
Speaker 1:So you wanna pray? Fine. You wanna go to a synagogue? No, Sarah, I wanna go to the wall. It's the only remnant left of the first and second temples, considered the holiest site in Jerusalem.
Speaker 1:People believe that God's presence is stronger there than in any other place in Israel. It's where people from all over the world go to pray, to petition God, to ask for miracles. What I want to do is pray for my father's forgiveness. Okay, Sarah said, let's go. But I have to tell you, I don't like the direction you're taking.
Speaker 1:Sarah, why don't you understand? I understand only too well, Joey. I understand that you're not the same Joey I knew all these years. You used to laugh at all this junk with me. And now you want to go pray at a wall at the coattail?
Speaker 1:Look, Sarah, I'm in pain. I love my father. He's dead. I feel like I killed him. Why are you making this hard for me?
Speaker 1:And they quarreled for an hour and finally decided to split up. Finally, they decided to split up. Sarah, I don't know why this is happening. I thought you were my soul mate. Sarah replied to you, I think we are.
Speaker 1:But our souls are not in alignment anymore. Goodbye, Joey. Approaching the wall on foot, Joey looked from a distance, the clusters of people thronging the plaza. Ethiopians, Yemenites in white clothing, white robes, Americans in t shirts and little yarmulkes, all coming to press their lips against the cool stones, cry warm tears and fervently beseech God with their personal petitions. Joey approached his security guard and said, Excuse me, can I get a prayer book around here?
Speaker 1:Silently, guard pointed in the direction of a bearded rabbi who's dispensing religious paraphernalia, yarmulkes, prayer books, women's scarves, to the uninitiated. Donning up a borrowed yarmulke and clutching a prayer book, Joey made his way to the section of the wall. Watching the others and simulating their movements, he rested his head against the smooth stone of the wall, tried to encircle it with his arm to create an aura of privacy, and began to silently pray. He thought the words would seem foreign after all these years and that he would chant them haltingly, but instead they flowed forth in a familiar comforting stream. He closed his eyes and recalled his father's intonation of the same words as he was transported back in memory to different realms, the world of his youth.
Speaker 1:Dad, I wish I could ask you forgiveness. I wish I could tell you how much I loved you, how much I regret all the pain that caused you. I didn't mean to hurt you, dad. I was just trying to find my own way. You meant everything to me, dad.
Speaker 1:I wish I could tell you that. When Joey finished praying, he turned around at a loss at what to do next. And then he observed people around them scribbling notes and inserting them into the crevices of the wall. Curious as to what this behavior meant, he approached the young man and asked, excuse me, why are so many people putting little pieces of paper into the cracks of the wall? Oh, these are prayer petitions.
Speaker 1:Kvitloch, the youth answered. They're prayers. It's believed that these stones are so holy that requests placed inside of them will be especially blessed, especially heard by God. Can I do that too? Joey asked.
Speaker 1:Sure. But be warned, it's not so easy to find an empty crevice anymore. Jews have been coming here for centuries to ply God with their prayers. Joey wrote, Dear father, I beg you to forgive me for the pain I caused you. I loved you very much and I will never forget you.
Speaker 1:And please know that nothing that you taught me was in vain. I will not betray your father's death, your family's death. I promise. When he finished writing the note, Joey searched for an empty crevice. Young man had not exaggerated.
Speaker 1:All the walls crevices, all the walls cracks were filled, crammed, overflowing with petitioner's notes. And it took him a very long time to find an empty space. But it turned out not to be empty after all. When he slid his own small note in the crack, he accidentally dislodged another that had already been resting there and it fell to the ground. Oh no, I pushed out someone's note, Joe, he thought, a little panic stricken.
Speaker 1:What should he do? He stooped down to retrieve it and holding the rolled up paper in his palm began searching for another speech in which to insert it. But suddenly, overcome by a tremendous curiosity to read the words of an unknown petitioner, Joey did something uncharacteristically unscrupulous. He rolled open the note to examine its contents. And this is what he read.
Speaker 1:My dear son Joey, if you should ever happen to come to Israel and somehow miraculously find this note, this is what I want you to know. I always loved you, even when you hurt me. And I will not stop loving you. You are and always will be my beloved son. And Joey, please know that I forgive you for everything and only hope that you in turn will forgive a foolish old man.
Speaker 1:The note was signed, Adam Rickles, Cleveland, Ohio. Sir, are you all right? Sir, the disembodied voice came from a distance, shattering Joey's reverie. He didn't know how long he had been standing there numb, paralyzed with shock, clutching his father's note in his trembling hand, tears flowing in rivulets down his face. Stunned, he turned to face the young man who had instructed him on the writing of the petition minutes ago.
Speaker 1:Listen, said the young man warmly, draping a sympathetic arm around Joey's shoulder. You don't have to tell me. It will be Sabbath soon. Shabbat. It's almost sundown.
Speaker 1:Would you like to come and spend it with me? Three years later, Joey returned his religion and was now a full time rabbinical student. I think it's time for you to marry, head rabbi said to him one day. My wife likes to play matchmaker and she says she has a perfect girl for you. I've told her about you.
Speaker 1:And she said she's positive. She's found your soulmate. It's someone like yourself, her attorney to Judaism, studies at my wife's women's school. Would you like to meet her? Come to my house tonight for dinner and she'll be there.
Speaker 1:That evening, Joey entered the rabbi's house and he was escorted to the living room. They're sitting on the couch with none other than his old love Sarah. They stared across the room at each other in shock and awe as Sarah blinked back tears. How did this happen, Sarah? Joey asked in stunned surprise.
Speaker 1:Well, after we split up, Sarah said, I began to wonder all around Israel. I'm here already. I may as well see the country before I head back to India, I told myself. So I started trekking around and despite myself, I began to fall in love with the country, my people, the religion. One day someone told me about a great woman's school.
Speaker 1:So here I am. Sarah, I thought about you all these years. Well, guess our souls are in alignment now. She said, as she turned to him with a welcoming smile. Happens to be that is my favorite story of all the stories in Small Miracles.
Speaker 1:The truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. And it happens to be, I used to tell that story, I don't know, about fifteen, sixteen years ago. And I lost the book and I can never find that story until this late night on my Shemira. I was searching for a Chanukah story and somehow I came across it. So I hope you enjoyed and I hope it opens up our heart to understand the power of sincere prayer to Hashem and that our Father, our Father in heaven, no matter how far it seems we have gone from Him, He loves us so much and He's always just waiting for us to come back and turn to Him.
Speaker 1:Have a beautiful night.