Living Through the Jewish High Holy Days

I just arrived home from an evening in the Old City of Jerusalem. Nothing unusual about this, except we’re now at the end of the 3 weeks of the Jewish High Holy Days. The Old City, especially around the Jaffa Gate was alive with celebrations, Jews celebrating Succot, the Festival of Booths, which lasts a week and will end October 19.

I was having tea in the Christian Quarter, at a Muslim coffee house. Just a few feet from where I was sitting, security guards had put up barriers while, on the other side, Jewish musicians set up a stage and began playing. People gathered in the plaza in front of them, again just a few feet from where I was, and the dancing began. The music seemed to get louder and louder; it was non-stop and joyful. Quite a contrast to the men sitting quietly nearby, playing cards, having their coffee and smoking their water pipes. Every so often armed soldiers would pass by, M-16’s strapped around their shoulders, a reminder, even in the midst of celebration, of the oppressive occupation.

October is always an interesting time to be here. Three weeks ago the celebrations began with Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. Ten days later, on October 7, was the observance of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the holiest day of the year for the Jewish faith.

While these days are holy for the religious Jews living in Israel, they can be tense and disruptive for the Palestinians and others trying to go about their daily lives. Especially Yom Kippur, when everything closes down from sundown to sundown. I had read the day before that the Ben Gurion Airport would be closed from 2:30 p.m. on Thursday the 6^th until 9:30 p.m. Friday the 7^th. The borders with Egypt and Jordan were also closed, as were many of the checkpoints to and from the West Bank. Buses stop running and no motor vehicles are allowed in the streets in West Jerusalem.

I was coming home from work on the 6th, leaving early because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find a bus to take me back through West Jerusalem to my apartment. I was meeting friends in Bethlehem and found out that the last bus was scheduled for 3:30 p.m. I met a friend for coffee in East Jerusalem, nervously checking my watch to make sure I wouldn’t miss the bus. I caught the last bus to Bethlehem¸ met my friends for dinner, and then we drove back through the checkpoint to our neighborhood just minutes from Bethlehem. It was around 10 p.m. No cars were in sight. But the main street, a 4 lane major thoroughfare, was filled with Palestinian children playing, riding bikes, enjoying the novelty of a traffic-less 24 hours.

The next morning when I woke up, I was struck by the silence—no cars, no noise. I couldn’t go anywhere, so I just stayed home and enjoyed the quiet¸ every few hours broken by the call to prayer from the local mosque.

In a few days the celebrations will end, and the tourist buses will begin arriving. Then in 2 weeks, we’ll break again, this time for the Muslim holy celebration of Eid al Adha. Nothing is ever “normal” here; everyday is an adventure. What a privilege to be here!

Living Through the Jewish High Holy Days

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