For a long time I stayed from the Western Wall.
It daunted me, that somber wall. The weight and moment
of those worked stones promised to make the business of
seeing them a complicated one. So much converges there. It’s
what we’ve rescued from the madness. Holiness, dignity, order, proportion.
There are obligations attached to such a visit, what ambiguity
there is in exalted things. I kept putting off a
visit. The wall stood apart from the hissing traffic of
Jerusalem like some monument to doomed expectations. I approached. There
it was. I considered the vision before me, immeasurably awed.
Paraphrases from the novel The Names by Don DeLillo.