That Precious Moment

                                                                         

Have you ever experienced a moment towards which you are looking forward, that moment in which you are being cloaked by that very unique feeling over and over again? It is the moment where you sense the wave of adrenaline welling in you, refusing to subside no matter how much you try to control it.  I am talking about a moment that you never tire of, one that you have lived and relived many a times, one that reunites you with that which is central to your life, to who you are and what you are.

Yesterday, Moshe and I relived such a moment. We both had another reminder, not that we ever forgot, of the centrality of Yerushalayim in our beautiful Jewish tradition.

Moshe and I attended a Jewish wedding here in Oslo. Our hearts were fluttering with joy as we were witnessing another Jewish couple entering the marriage covenant according to the “religion of Moshe and Yisrael….” Our Hope is still alive, we both thought, and it’s a few millennia old core is still throbbing!

The wedding took place in an Orthodox synagogue. Naturally, we had to sit apart from each other. Separated physically, yes, but not spiritually, historically and culturally from that which unites us so solidly with a tradition that has brought us thus far.

As the rabbi was going through the various steps of the ceremony, the blessings and reading the Ketubah (Marriage certificate written in Aramaic), we were both, independently of each other waiting patiently for that approaching moment.  We were looking forward to that one moment, one moment that bears great significance to us and should, in our view, likewise be of great meaning to all Jews wherever they are.

That moment did not linger. Unaware of each other’s moves, we both got up from our seats and started to make our way towards the Bimah where the Chuppah was slowly but surely peaking towards that which we had been waiting for, that which our ancient Jewish Zionist essence seeks to reassure and re-affirm over and over again.

I stood there very close to the Bimah as my Jewish soul was cleansing itself in anticipation and preparation to bear witness to the oath, to the pledge which has kept our People’s Spirit alive and invigorated.

Suddenly, I raised my head and glanced over the isle to the men’s section. There stood Moshe waiting, like me, for that precious moment. “Now read this please,” the rabbi instructed the groom. I could feel my eyes welling, the lump in my throat growing as Moshe’s eyes were locked with mine and our lips joined the groom’s as we vowed in unison,
“אם-אשכחך ירושלים--    תשכח ימיני.  תדבק-לשוני, לחיכי--    אם-לא אזכרכי:
אם-לא אעלה, את-ירושלים--    על, ראש שמחתי.
 ( If I forget you, O Jerusalem,
    let my right hand forget its skill!
Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth,
    if I do not remember you,
if I do not set Jerusalem
    above my highest joy!)

As long as one pair of lips utters these words and renews this vow, this oath to Yerushalayim, our Hope is not lost. Am Yisrael Chai!