Let My People Know

"Even in the darkest days of tyranny and persecution, when no Jew might dwell there, Jerusalem was held to be the capital of the children of Israel"

 

The poem "Come My Beloved" (Lecha Dodi) by Rav Shlomo Alkavets, which, almost as soon as it was composed, was adopted as a central song in the Sab­bath liturgy, is in fact a mystic song of yearning for Jerusalem.

 

It blends the redemptive longings of the people of Israel and of the world, and focuses those longings on the Holy City.

 

When the Jews used to say "the city," they meant Jerusalem.

 

For this earthly city of God reflects the essence of the people as a whole.

 

It stands for the Shechinah in exile, and stands no less for the world in its agony and suffering.

 

Thus, the ravaged and abandoned city awaits redemption and fulfillment.

 

Its rebuilding signifies alike the renaissance of the Jewish people and the revival of Jerusalem's ancient covenant with that people and with the whole world.

 

Mystic Jerusalem did not blur the conception of Jerusalem as a real earthly center of habitation.

 

Even in the darkest days of tyranny and persecution, when no Jew might dwell there, Jerusalem was held to be the capital of the children of Israel.

 

As long as outer circumstances do not permit the life of the nation to be centered in Jerusalem, the institutions of Jewish religious law (halachah) cannot have their full effect.

 

Meanwhile, all over the world, Jews turn toward the city when they pray, and synagogues are so built that the Holy Ark faces Jerusalem.

 

It is also the ardent desire of the individual Jew to be in Jerusalem and to live there.

 

Even the dry legal code affirms that the will to live in Jerusalem overrides all other reasons given for a course of action.

 

Over the centuries, this was very seldom a practical possibility, but the hope never faltered.

 

So that, at the end of the Passover feast, with its celebration of release from bondage, the last words declaimed are: "Next year in Jerusalem."

 

For many generations, it was customary to write in every marriage contract: "The wedding will take place on such ­and-such a date in Jerusalem. However, if by then redemption has still not come, it will take place in . . . (another specified place)"—which is to say that the only suitable place for the couple to live was Jerusalem.

 

–Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From "Remembering Jerusalem," p. 217, in The Strife of the Spirit by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz