The Silent Shabbat

On a rainy Friday afternoon, my friends and I were released into the Jerusalem shook (marketplace). There were only a few hours until Shabbat and the streets were so crowded, it was nearly impossible to see the ground beneath my feet. There were so many hurried bodies and bulging bags, it was easy to get lost in the crowd. Men behind carts peddled fresh fish and steaming loaves of bread. Fruit and spice stands drew me in with their enticing scents. Countless types of colorful candy thrilled the eager kid inside me.

The people of the shook were just as remarkable. Men in black hats and women in long skirts shuffled alongside Dred-locked teens spangled with piercings. There were soldiers in uniform greeting friends and holding hands. I felt a buzz of excitement weaving among my fellow shoppers; practicing my Hebrew at dried fruit and bread stand and being rewarded with fruity gems and steaming carbohydrates.

As the day came to a close, we made our way back to the hotel with great haste, not wanting to be late for Shabbat. After washing up and putting on nicer clothes, we began to celebrate. The women lit candles in the hotel lobby and the men joined us for services. The next morning it was not only Saturday, but January 1st. Ecstatic that I was in Jerusalem at the beginning of the New Year, I looked out my window.

 To my complete amazement, there was not a car in sight. I checked the clock, it flashed 10 a.m. surely the people of Jerusalem were awake. That’s when I saw them, people of all denominations walking, just walking. There was not a car on the highway. Instead, dozens of people were walking; illuminated by the pavement as the sun reflected off of thinning puddles. I stepped out onto the porch and heard laughter amidst cheerful conversation. The honking of cars was absent. The way Jerusalem slowed down made me realize that Shabbat truly is a sacred day; special because it is separate from the rest of the week.