King David never set foot in Migdal David.
The site, also known as the Tower of David and David’s Citadel, is now a museum and event space. Originally ancient Hasmonean and Herodian fortifications, the current structures were built during the Mamluk and Ottoman periods on top of a series of earlier ancient fortifications destroyed during the Crusades. The site was named "Tower of David" in the 5th century CE by the Byzantine Christians, who believed the site to be the palace of King David. They took the name from Shir HaShirim (4:4), “Your neck is a like a tower of David (migdal David).”
Migdal David has multiple stories to tell, but what makes it special? What makes any place special?
A place is special when it becomes a makom.
Now, this is a tricky proposition because makom literally translates as “place.” Makom, however, means much more.
“Va-yifga ba-makom va-yalen sham ki va ha-shemesh - Yaakov came upon a certain place and stopped there for the night, for the sun had set.” (Bereishit 28:11)
On a literal level, it got dark, and Yaakov stopped in a place to sleep. The commentaries are not satisfied with letting a place be just a place. A place can be transformed into a makom.
Rashi says it was The Place. It was Har HaMoriah, the mountain on which Avraham was prepared to offer Yitzchak as an offering that, ultimately, was the site of the Temple. That’s a pretty important makom.
Seforno explains that the place was a familiar, helpful place. It was known as a rest stop for travelers to stop, eat, sleep. Yaakov stopped there because everyone stopped there when they needed a break. The place was a makom, a destination for those in need.
Rashbam keeps it simple and geographical. Yaakov stopped near the city of Luz. That’s where he was.
A makom
is more than a place; it is an encounter.
There
are sublime, holy encounters.
There
are encounters when one receives or gives assistance to another.
There
are encounters with God in the ordinary or even the unexpected.
Makom as an encounter explains why we refer to God as Ha-Makom at the Seder (“Baruch Ha-Makom”) or when we comfort the mourner (“Ha-Makom yenacheim etchem…”). In life, we can move from place to place or experience sublime, meaningful, and helpful encounters.
Rabbi Shmuel Goldin shares an amazing story about a visit he made to the Theresienstadt camp. The guide took the group behind what had been a bakery and down some steps to a hidden underground room. Suddenly they found themselves in a small synagogue which had been built by a group of Danish Jews, secretly, under the eyes of their Nazi tormentors. Imagine the courage and devotion of these individuals who risked their lives to create a makom to worship God even at a time when God’s face seemed very hidden!
On the walls of the small shul, passages from the Torah and liturgy had been painted in a fashion common to European synagogues of that time. One was the declaration made by Yaakov (Bereishit 28:17):
“Ma nora ha-makom ha-zeh! Ein zeh ki im beit Elokim v’zeh sha’ar ha-shamayim - How awesome is this place! This is none other than the House of God and this is the gate to heaven!”
A makom in Theresienstadt. A “House of God” and a “gate to heaven” in what would seem to be only a place of death and destruction.
Each place we go is really a potential makom – and a potential Sha’ar Ha-Shamayim.
Getting back to the Tower of David, Migdal David can be a place. This past Sunday, Migdal David became an inspiring, uplifting, joyous makom.
Some 200 family and friends came together to celebrate the wedding of Tom Shemia and Rebecca Douer at Migdal David. Besides the location being beautifully transformed and decorated, I felt as if the stones had come alive. We were living the fulfillment of the Yirmiyahu’s prophecy (33:10-11):
“Od yishama b’arei Yehudah u’vechutzot Yerushalayim, kol sasson v’kol simcha kol chatan v’kol kallah – Once again shall be heard in the cities of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem the sound of joy and rejoicing and the song of the groom and the bride.”
I didn’t even have to use my imagination. Right in front of my eyes were the stones of Jerusalem dating back more than 2,000 years. Built by the victors of the Chanukah story, taken over by Roman conquerors before being used and destroyed by Muslims and Christians, and now it is the site for a Jewish wedding. Everyone in attendance travelled to Israel in hostile times because of a deep connection to the couple and optimism and hope for the Jewish future. I was, thank God, together with Naama and our children along with congregants, life-long friends, and strangers in creating a most meaningful makom.
Each of us will encounter many different places along our life’s journeys. We should aspire to turn each place into a makom, to recognize the sacred potential of every place we inhabit and to make room for God and others in our lives.
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