What happens after the dream comes true?

In September 11, 2001, I was supposed to board a plane to Israel. The world changed that day, and I remained in New York through those weeks, eventually arriving in Jerusalem just before Yom Kippur. On Yom Kippur night, my new flatmate and I walked together to the Kotel.

Sitting outside the prayer plaza, he turned to me and said something I have never forgotten.

“Intellectually,” he told me, “I don’t even know why this wall should matter to me. I don’t long for a Third Temple. I believe God is everywhere, not in one place. Rationally, I don’t understand why this place should hold such power.”

Then he paused.

“But every time I walk up to those stones, press my face against them, and begin to pray, I start crying uncontrollably. My heart and soul just don’t seem to understand what my intellect is telling them.”