Last Shabbat, I got into a massive argument at the holiest site on earth — right at the foot of the Western Wall.
Because of a quirk in the Jewish calendar, Jews outside of Israel have been one Torah portion behind Israel for weeks. In Israel, Shavuot is celebrated for one day; outside of Israel, for two. But because Shavuot this year fell on Friday and Shabbat, that one extra day threw the Torah reading schedule out of sync for weeks.
The long-awaited "catch-up" Shabbat finally arrived. Outside of Israel, we would read a double portion, Chukat–Balak, while in Israel they would read only Balak. By the next week, we’d be back in sync.
There was just one problem: I was in Jerusalem that Shabbat, and halachically, I was still on “American time” and needed to hear Chukat–Balak.
My father was with me, visiting from South Africa. He had a yahrzeit and wanted to receive Maftir, so we walked down to the Kotel, where there are dozens of minyanim praying side by side at any given time.
We joined a minyan, and when it came time for the Torah reading, my father offered to read.
When I added, "I'd like to hear Chukat–Balak," everything changed.
The Israelis looked at me as if I had lost my mind. "We already read Chukat last week!"
"I know, but we Americans haven’t heard it yet," I countered. "I'll read it fast!"
"Why should everyone have to sit through it again? Tircha d'tzibbur!" they argued — the halachic principle that you don't unnecessarily burden a congregation. "Just read Balak. And make it quick."
"But those of us from outside Israel still need to hear Chukat!" I pleaded. "What does it bother you? Come on!"
And so, for several minutes, right there at the foot of the Western Wall — surrounded by soldiers, tourists, yeshiva students, families, and visitors from around the world — a passionate halachic battle raged over the burning question: Should we read one Torah portion or two?
Ultimately, I gave in and we read only Balak.
You might think I walked away upset, but actually I couldn't stop smiling.
Think about everything that's happening in the world right now. We have enemies threatening us from every direction. Iran could attack at any moment. Antisemitism is exploding across the globe. Politicians rise to power on platforms of hostility toward our people. The Jewish people have no shortage of real, existential things to fight about.
And what did a group of Jews choose to argue about, at the holiest place on earth, at one of the most turbulent moments in modern history?
Whether to read one parshah or two on Shabbat morning.
How beautiful is that?!
The world defines people by what consumes them. What occupies their conversations. What keeps them awake at night. And the Jewish people certainly care about the great issues of our generation. But underneath it all, after thousands of years, what still ignites our deepest passion is Torah.
We argue because we care. Our disagreements aren't signs of weakness. They're signs of love. You don't fight passionately over something you're indifferent to. A nation that argues about Torah is a nation that is still invested and in love.
And that gave me tremendous hope.
Because as long as Jews are still arguing about Torah, Torah is still shaping the Jews.
Empires have risen and fallen. Our enemies have come and gone. Babylon, Rome, and a hundred others who swore we wouldn't survive are footnotes in history books — while we're still standing at that Wall, debating the same Torah our grandparents debated, and their grandparents before them.
And that's the greatest miracle of all.
P.S. I still think we should have read Chukat!