Why the Stone Wall Cried | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Why the Stone Wall Cried | Previous Challenge Entry
By Avigail David
02/24/22
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Why the Stone Wall Cried

My home. My House of Prayer. She’ma, hear O Ysrael. Blessed are You, O, Adonai.

I’m beneath the Western Wall, it’s sheltering me. It’s standing firm as I lean on it. The fierce burning of the rest of the House of Prayer rage intent to kill and devour. The tenth legion of Romans do exactly what hate means to them, annihilate Jews.

The Western Wall, still hot to touch, but a touch of grace draws me close to the fortifying sense of protection around me. I can’t run. I tried but my feeble old legs got caught in the rubble.

The seething flames threw dark streaks of fire and smoke friezed the walls. Screams fill the air and the floor of the House of Prayer lay bodies, with blood streaming down the steps. The fire miraculously spared the wall of the House of Prayer. For what reason at that moment, I do not know. But my All-Knowing Yahweh does.

I run my fringers tracing the carving of the menorah on a shattered fallen limestone.

They will soon find me here. But I’m worthless to them. What good am I of use to them at all?

“You, foolish old dog! Come out!” A Roman soldier’s boot pummels several kicks on my ribs and back. Terror holds my breath, for this brute of human flesh would decide on the direction of my fate. To the slave markets in Damascus. At the stakes to be burned alive. To the arena to the lions. Or a much quicker death, his sword piercing my heart right there and then.

Suddenly, the stones of the wall suddenly shakes. The stonewall moves and cries. The wails of terror and anguish echo in the walls, louder and deeper. And yet, I felt peace and safety.

Feigning death saved me. I lay there at the bloody deadly boots, before my enemy’s mercy. I lay dead escaping what might be the penetrating sword of the Roman soldier.

The Roman Captain heard it and he became afraid and ran.

Gloomy shadows banished. When the flames finally died down, left standing was the retaining wall rose up above me. I was on the western side of the Temple Mount. That stonewall crying-miracle came back to me in my memory.

Three years passed, my first Passover. As I write this story, I, Yochanan, exiled to Patmos, the beloved friend of my Master, it did occur to me what He told me and my friend, Matthew.

“Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake,” Yeshua taught.

But all these things will they do unto you for my name's sake, because they know not him that sent me. I will remember to write this,too, in my gospel letters.

I know, as I look at the ocean from my imprisonment, that this is the very same western wall that still stands in Jerusalem today. It’s where my brethren over the years shall gather to pray and remember our Messiah.

I will remind my fellow brothers and sisters of the House of Prayer King David longed to build for Yahweh, the God of Abraham Isaac, and Jacob. Instead, his son, Solomon built the Temple where God put his Name and Divine Presence in it.

I shall come back to Jerusalem someday where the remnant wall standing from what's miraculously left of the Second Temple in Eretz Yisrael.

There, at the House Prayer, our Master taught us. There at the steps of the Temple of the Ark of the Covenant, Yeshua lamented of the pending destruction of Jerusalem.

There, where our Master spoke of hope, peace and eternal life to those who call upon His Name and be saved.

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