Three Mystical Pieces of Paper

When I was packing my carry-on bag to prepare for my upcoming trip to Israel, I took my siddur (prayer book) off the shelf. When I opened it and flipped through the pages, I found a small piece of hotel stationery from the hotel where I stayed in Weimar, Germany when I was on Germany Close Up earlier this year in July. I laughed a little in disbelief that this paper would still be tucked into the front cover. I vaguely remember consciously not throwing it out in the haste of throwing out all the train and museum tickets, receipts and other papers I had accumulated while on the two-week trip. Consciously or not, perhaps it had stayed in there because I never cleaned out my siddur and, well, never used it since.

On that piece of paper, I had written page numbers and the names of the prayers I had pre-selected to say at the Memorial site at the Buchenwald Concentration camp.

I had always wanted to put a note in the cracks at the Kotel (Western Wall) in Jerusalem the previous times that I’ve been there, but never knew quite what to say. I think prayers should be genuine and not forced, so I never wrote anything on those previous trips. When I saw the small piece of paper, I knew that this belonged in the Kotel and that I should add a prayer on my own. So I set out to do just that.

Fast-forward a week into my trip. I had arrived the previous Sunday and it took me an entire week to make it to Jerusalem, which seemed a little wrong. I knew that my trip to Jerusalem would have to include a visit to Yad Vashem. I had several stops that day and it made more sense to go to Yad Vashem before the Old City logistically. Plus I wanted to be at the Old City to see the Hanukkiah lit for Hanukkah, which would start at sundown that night.

While looking at the first panel in the main exhibition, I was surprised to not see writing in German, just Hebrew and English. After all the exhibits this summer in Germany, the German had become engrained in me. I laughed inside a bit and moved on. Laughing outside would be a bit insensitive.

The visit was powerful. It is such a well-done museum, showing a brief history of anti-Semitism and the rise of the Nazis and then a comprehensive account of the ghettos, deportations, the camps, resistance and more. I must admit that once I got to the section on Auschwitz, I was supersatured and couldn’t do much anymore. So, I quickly finished and moved on to another exhibit. Prior to coming to Yad Vashem on this visit, I thought that I could handle the exhibit and wouldn’t have a problem. I surprised myself and became winded by the material.

Once I finished the rest, scaling through the gardens and making it through the memorial to the 1.5 million children who were murdered, which almost brought me to tears, I made my way back to the entrance to return my audio guide.

I had given my old Rutgers ID as a “deposit” for the audio guide. When my ID was returned to me, I had trouble putting it back into its usual slot in my wallet. I noticed there was some paper or something in the way after several tries.

I reached my pointer finger and thumb in and pulled out a small perforated ticket stub, which was one part of a baggage check ticket from the Swissotel in Berlin.

Baffled and realizing this wasn’t the only thing stuck still in the slot, I reached my fingers in again and pulled out a small ripped piece of paper folded in half with a bunch of numbers written.

“What!?!” I gasped aloud, realizing the identification of both pieces of paper and their origins.

I was baffled and amused at the same time.

We stayed at Swissotel in Berlin for a week, went to Weimar, some three hours away for three days, and then returned to Swissotel in Berlin for the end of the trip. I, along with others in my groups, left a bag “checked” at Swissotel when we were in Weimar. When I retrieved my bag upon return to Berlin, I think I just took it without giving back the tag. And the other piece of paper was the number I was supposed to dial to use my calling card from the hotel. But I had trouble with it and was never able to get it to work (I later found out once I came back to New York that the card was never activated at the store where I bought it).

My head was racing. How could these papers have stayed in my wallet all this time without my knowledge? I had surely cleaned them out since returning from Germany. Other regularly used cards, including my Starbucks card also occupy this slot in my wallet. Why did I suddenly find these papers when I was standing inside the entrance to Yad Vashem? Why this moment?

Later that afternoon I made it to the Old City just as the first candle for Hanukkah was being lit at the Kotel. I made my way down the steps and took a deep breath.

I wrote different prayers on all three papers, said a few prayers from the evening service from my siddur, and put the papers into the wall.