No visit to a bustling, crowded city would be complete without a stop at its markets. Whether you are in Barcelona, Melbourne, Lima, San Francisco or Jerusalem (a never ending list, actually), it’s a place to truly experience the fabric of a community and all walks of life that come to get basic necessities, an indulgent little treat, or perhaps something special for a loved one. Often times, it’s all of those things. It’s also a place to socialize with friends over a beer, a meal, a sweet nibble of ice cream or chocolate or in Jerusalem’s case, a seemingly endless choice of baklava.

We visited the Machane Yehuda market on a Thursday, when Lior told us it would be just “a little bit busy.” Come here on a Friday or Saturday, and it’s crazy (in Israel, Friday and Saturday are the weekend; the work week is Sunday-Thursday). We tried to imagine what busier would look like as we snaked our way through the shoulders-touching crowd, entirely locals but for us, it seemed. Shopkeepers calling out to lure you into their bakery or the fishmonger or spice shop or butcher or nut stand or sandwich counter or lebanese restaurant or housewares booth or the farmer’s bountiful produce or or or…anything you could want is here. The cacophony of voices provides a never-ceasing hum that feels like an energy all its own. The scents of sweet and savory waft throughout the place. Men and women and children and teenagers and hipster 20-somethings and moms with babies in strollers and older folks with canes crowd each other for space in the aisles, some moving quickly and others taking their time. It sounds like chaos and conflict but it all seems to work, somehow, someway. I love it.

We settled on a sandwich place – chicken schnitzel on a warm challah bun with spreads (tomato? Red pepper?) and roasted garlic and preserved lemon that was both unique and incredibly delicious. It had to be followed by something from the baklava guy, and then a stop at the spice shop where Brian decided he wanted “some” cinnamon. He is now going home with a bag of cinnamon that will last lifetimes. 

“Lifetimes” is perhaps a theme through these writings, and we often think about things that “in our lifetime” we should be so lucky to experience, or to see change. Gay Pride in the US started as a protest in 1970, and today in Jerusalem, it remains that. In the US, we have gained freedoms that others have not. We happened to be here for Jerusalem Pride and could see the fight that is strong not just in the hard-core activists and the drag queens but in the wide-eyed innocent youth and the mothers who bring their children with rainbow-painted cheeks to help fight for human freedoms we all should enjoy. Put this in the context of an Orthodox Jewish community, and it becomes all the more impressive. They are taking chances. They are brave. They know what is right and will stand for it with a courage I often wonder if I possess. 

And surrounding this combination of protest, pride, and celebration, there is protection. A lot of it. The military is everywhere, lining the parade route at close intervals, and protecting every possible entrance and exit into the barricaded area surrounding Independence Park where the events take place.

Uniformed and heavily armed, in small groups and large, the Israeli Army stand guard with watchful eye to avert violence, and successfully do so despite the death threats lobbed at Pride organizers. It is at once both comforting and unsettling…a sense of both safety and danger at the same time. 

And still – there is joy and laughter and community and music and dance. It fills the heart and feeds the soul with hope.

The military themselves are part of the next generation, as military service is mandatory in Israel for both men and women beginning at age 18. The “assessments” begin in high school as to physical and mental aptitude so divisional assignments can make the most of individual talents. Most people travel after serving their 2-3 years, and then begin college in their early 20’s. We have so much of our adult lives dedicated to work, beginning those decades further into our youth seems entirely sensible. Why are we often in such a hurry?

It struck me that it’s seemingly so disconnected to ponder markets, pride, and the military in one momentary memoir but to do so weaves together a few threads of our crazy world that coexist in a way we can easily miss. Food, safety, and belonging are foundational to an individual’s well being, and in turn, to a thriving society, and these existential needs can’t help but come to life in our markets…our protectors…our love. It is universal, and we saw that today in Jerusalem.

Shalom.