Mrs. Frankel gazed up at the ancient stones before her. She had dreamed of this day, when she would be able to stand and pray before the Kotel in Yerushalayim. Now, in 1967, she and a friend were finally here.
As the two friends stood in silent contemplation, Mrs. Frankel noticed a woman approaching, carrying two shopping bags. The woman held her hand out, and Mrs. Frankel understood that she was homeless, completely dependent on the goodwill of others. The two friends gave the woman a bit of money, and she continued on her way.
The afternoon was passing, and the two visitors decided to pray Minhah. Shortly after they began, Mrs. Frankel noticed that the poor woman had also begun to pray Minhah. When praying was done, Mrs. Frankel stood there for a few minutes, idly watching the poor woman, who was just completing her prayer.
The woman rummaged through her bag and took out a stub of pencil. She then ripped a piece off the bag and began to write. After finishing, she folded the paper and wedged it into a small crevice between the bricks of the Kotel.
As she turned to go, the paper she had wedged in the wall fell out onto the floor. Another woman standing nearby saw the paper fall, and she bent down to put it back. As she held it in her hand and lifted it toward to stones, the paper suddenly unfolded.
Mrs. Frankel stared. The handwriting was ill-formed and childish. But what shocked her the most were the words on the paper. This poor, homeless woman, who owned almost nothing, had scrawled on the paper, “Hashem, I love you.” She may have had very little in the way of material possessions, but she was nevertheless completely content in her relationship with Hashem.
That note was meant to be read.
Reprinted from the Parashat Beha’alotecha 5785 email of Rabbi David Bibi’s Shabbat Shalom from Cyberspace.
