Jerusalem Culture

I was in the Jewish shook on Friday afternoon shortly before Shabbat started. Vendors are eager to sell as much as possible before the day of rest begins, so they offer great bargains on fruit, vegetables, pita, and sweets. As we were walking around, we noticed a very religious Jew enter the shook dressed in his Shabbat best. He had on what looked like a velvet outer jacket, his furry Shabbat hat, and carried a tin horn with him. He was a small fellow – the type who was certainly picked on by his classmates at Hebrew day school when he was little. This day in the shook, however, he commanded (or rather demanded) respect from all the vendors. The small Jewish fellow approached sellers who were still open and blew his loud tin horn at them, letting them know that Shabbat was starting and that it was imperative for them to close their shops. The noise was incredibly annoying, so the sellers quickly turned off their lights and acted like they were shutting down to send the religious Jew on his way. After he left, though, most turned their lights back on to redeem a few more moments of daylight sales. Several vendors took the horn-blowing Heredi (ultra-religious fellow) as a joke, laughing at his attempt to order them about on Shabbat Eve. I couldn’t help but smile at the fellow, and I followed him around as he blew his trumpet demanding that others conform to his Shabbat convictions.

The Arab fellows here in Jerusalem are far less homophobic than guys in the States. It’s not uncommon to see two guys walking down the sidewalk, arms linked together as a sign of friendship. It’s also not uncommon to see two guys kissing each other several times on the cheek as a friendly (although certainly different than where I come from) greeting.


The mullet is back. That’s right -- the hairstyle that is “business in front, party in the back” has returned to haunt a new generation here in Israel and the territories. I haven’t seen many Jews with the hairstyle from the 80’s and 90’s, but several Palestinians have taken up its look. Once my hair grows a little longer, I may get a mullet myself. I won’t look as slick as the sharp Arab guys who where the style with plenty of grease, but I’m confident I’ll be able to pull off a hillbilly version.

I had the chance to visit St. George’s Church today, a huge and beautiful basilica built by the Church of England. There was a special multi-denominational Lenten service this evening, so I was eager to participate. After the service took place, a soiree of sorts was held in the church’s garden with drinks and desserts. There were Catholics, Anglicans, Presbyterians, Baptists (me), and all sorts of people present. One of the Roman Catholic priests at the reception went around offering bread that had yesterday been blessed by the Greek Orthodox Patriarch of Jerusalem. It seems that the Catholic priest and Greek patriarch had been a part of an ecumenical service together yesterday, and the priest, out of great sensitivity, did not want to throw away a lot of bread that the Greek father had blessed. So, he eagerly went around the garden party today offering the bread (which few in attendance held with any special significance) in order to make sure that none got wasted. He was a kind, comical, and very caring priest who did not want to upset the inter-denominational peace that is so easily disturbed here.