The tour Making a market We opened this week at the Zohari Hama synagogue. The tables are already covered with white tablecloths, and the smell of incense wafts through the synagogue. The quiet atmosphere in which the prayer is conducted is so different from the bustling market scene - but that is the contrast of Jerusalem.
A prayer with a shirt printed with the name and picture of the famous artist Bob Marley. The worshipper is completely immersed in prayer, stands in silence and quietly prays the Eighteenth Prayer.
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Immediately afterwards, when we returned to the car to get the forgotten phone, I saw them getting in, dragging a light shopping cart. With a mischievous smile, the smiling one in the picture tells me: "You can take a picture of me.".
The market welcomed us at this early hour in a large, bustling circle: dozens surrounded us in a large circle, dancing and dancing. From the side, a pat on the back: Nachum Septner, a friend, all smiles, asks: "What happened that you arrived early today?" And I didn't know the answer - until half an hour later...
At the edge of the circle, Hamed's two children are having a conversation with a guitarist who has a broken string. The two try to understand why and how he is fixing the string. He, patiently and with a smile, explains to them and elaborates. In turn, they listen, giving their father time to buy another kilo of apples.
The violinist on the roof - this is a well-known thing all over the world. This time I discovered that the guitarist is actually on the sidewalk. During the dance that these young people performed in the center of the market - they lay down on the floor and continued to play.
Among the spectators was David Stitzer, one of the owners of the nearby Metro Bagel, who had just come out to see where the bouncy music was coming from. But the singing and Carlebach-style dancing kept him glued to the spot for many minutes. Until he remembered that the store also had to close.
During a tasting tour of Beit HaGefen, a tall guy came across him who wanted to buy a delicious wine for the upcoming Shavuot holiday. Out of the many tastings, he couldn't decide which was tastier - and promised to come next week. In the end, he settled for beer.
""In honor of Shabbat, I want a fresh fish, but not a big one," the Hasidic buyer requested - and the seller retorted in a voice that echoed throughout the market: "In honor of Shabbat, we don't take a small fish. If Yosef, who cherishes Shabbat, had taken a small fish, he would never have found the diamond." The buyer smiled and took the fish chosen for Shabbat. Hopefully it would be delicious.
With a shy smile, sitting on his father's shoulders, we saw the boy with the large kippah on his head proclaiming, "N Nach Nach Nach Nachman from Uman." The father, who saw us lingering over the boy, said with a broad smile: "My boy has a Hasidic soul." Who knows, it starts with the kippah and ends with Uman on Rosh Hashanah.".
All Israel is brothers, but seeing the new newspaper peeking under the arm of a silk-clad shopper in the market led us to take this beautiful picture. He asked the seller: "Bring me all the peaches you have in the store, because they are good, in honor of Shabbat.".
The stories about the town and the "shits" have never become more tangible in the Mahane Yehuda market: We saw the boy putting the pretzels back in the bag, after he didn't like them that much, but the picture was incomplete until we found the pair of Sudanese twins, who were patiently waiting for their father to finish shopping at the market.
Since we had already started with town stories, we were immediately drawn into the stories of the Bible: Suddenly, as if from the Exodus, a man in ancient clothing came to us, doing some shopping. I didn't have time to record the child's call, but it sounded like this: "Father! Here is our Moses!""
The new help being provided in Jerusalem homes on Fridays is probably a trip by fathers to the Mahane Yehuda market with their little ones. Otherwise, I have no way to explain these lovely pictures of fathers with their little ones - on their shoulders, in strollers, and in their hands. In short, if you have children, come to the market on Fridays.
Yehuda Glanz, the artist and singer, who lives near the market, stopped by for a quick visit and some shopping in honor of Shabbat. But shopping with such an artist is never just shopping. We found him lingering near people in the market, making them happy with his kind smile, encouraging, strengthening - and even asking about life in the past week.
The shopping is done by all the people of Beit Yisrael. In the cracker stores, yeshiva students stand in line to buy the tastiest things. On the other hand, there are guys who buy vegetables and fruits for Shabbat in Basto. "It doesn't matter what you buy, the main thing is that it's in honor of Shabbat," says the salesman at the cracker store.
Mom, you promised us chicken for Shabbat. Who doesn't know this cry that comes from the 'Hasdei Naomi' fundraising vehicles? But this time I found the boy staring at the basket, from which the melons had disappeared, and he turns to his mother: "But you promised a melon..." Don't be sad, they found beautiful melons in the basket nearby.
A persistent phone call interrupts the journey. On the line is my friend Eli Jan, who sends me to photograph the Funeral of the late sage Moshe Michaelashvili - Rabbi of the Georgian community, who is now arriving at the Mount of Olives. I leave the market - and travel. I arrive there and see the man of mercy, Arla Yakovitch - who has once again given up his personal life, in order to carry out true mercy in his body.
The funeral procession is over. I return to the market, thoughtful. Life is so fragile. But Shabbat is coming and approaching. In a nearby restaurant, the waiters are working with a tablet, absorbed in the new menu. Look up, I want to shout at him. You'll see that there is life outside the screen - and it ends quickly.
Not far away, a father and his five children are checking the freezer to buy popsicles for Shabbat. The search for fancy kosher makes the children impatient, while the father insists and explains to his children that kosher comes first. An impressive lesson in education.
And in the center of the market I come across a sight that explains how much more valuable life is between people: the dogs in the picture didn't stop barking at each other, until they passed and moved away. On the other hand, in one bar, with only the watermelons separating the joyful meeting between friends, two yeshiva students and a friend exchange experiences, with a smile reserved only for humans.
A price tag, someone tells me while eating at the Azura restaurant. I look at him and ask: "Where?" - and he points to the graffiti in the picture, and says: "Tell me, isn't this a price tag for Rabbi Kahane's words?" And the rest of the people sitting at the table join him and say: "This is what happens when the state decides for us what a price tag is and what isn't.".
Photographer Ezra Landau also went on a tour of the market. He also apparently helps out at home - and he went with his children. Everyone knows the artist and multi-photographer, but not his children. When I asked their names - Ezra answered me: "I am indeed Ezra, but they are not Nehemiah and Yehoshua." Their names are Yehezkel and Yehuda.
And get used to it, it's not just watermelons that are thrown at the market. The popcorn, immediately after being packaged in hot, fresh bags, is thrown all along the market's sidewalk, straight into the customer's hands.
The market is starting to empty. Yeshiva students on bicycles are hurrying home. At the Chabad stand, there is only one last Jew left for the day who has not yet put on tefillin.
And when leaving the market - Hemed's two children carry everything they could buy for Shabbat kiddush at the synagogue.
I say goodbye to the market. The Shabbat atmosphere is quickly settling in. On the street, a grandfather hands out sweets to children in honor of Shabbat, provided they say a blessing out loud. The children wait patiently, receive the sweets - and the blessing resonates.
I hurry down to Bar Ilan Street, looking for the couple I photographed a few weeks ago reading a newspaper. The lady is now sitting on this balcony, reading Tehillim. On the balcony above her sits a cute boy with curly wigs - and pins in them, so that the curls will catch.
Shabbat is coming. The street is empty. A recent photo of a guy rushing with a mattress to the yeshiva. Apparently Shabbat will also fulfill the well-known motto for yeshiva boys: Sleeping on Shabbat is a pleasure.
