When I was in Israel last year, one of my most loved and dreaded places was the Old City in Jerusalem. Most loved because I was truly experiencing another side of the world, a world full of history and discoveries. Yet I also dreaded the journey into such a foreign place, where it was so easy to get lost in the maze of big and small alleys. At each turn of a corner, I asked, “what awaits me next?” with both a sense of excitement and caution.

The Jewish quarter is well-maintained with its little shops lined up nicely along the streets. The shopkeepers usually stay inside the shops, giving you a warm “Shalom” when you walk in. You are free to look at the intriguing merchandise or make friendly conversation with the shopkeeper without feeling the pressure to buy anything.

The Arab quarter, on the other hand (and on the other side of the Old City), is quite the opposite. The shops extend into the already-narrow walkways with both merchandise and shopkeepers sitting right front and center. If you slow down your pace to take a small glance at a shirt or a scarf, they start bargaining with you: “40 shekels! 40 shekels just for you! Come in, there are more at the back! 35! How about 30?” By the time you have walked fifteen feet away, the price of the t-shirt that you really had no interest in is down to 10 shekels. And yes, you can still hear them loud and clear.

One time, we were in a shop buying some necklaces — those custom-made ones with your name in Hebrew. We reached a good price, paid the deposit and asked for a receipt. No receipt. We then asked for a written note that showed we paid the deposit. The shopkeeper was quite annoyed, because apparently asking for a written record meant we didn’t trust him. He told us his shop had been there for thirty years and it that it would be there for the next thirty. He ranted loudly about him and his business practice and so on and so forth. Needless to say, it wasn’t a very pleasant experience for us, and he was a rather rude shopkeeper, to say the very least.

Then one Sunday, we attended a church in the Old City where the service was conducted in Arabic. It was a very small church, with about 70 in attendance. The pastor was also the drummer and a few teenagers played the violin and piano. A young man played the guitar and led the congregation into praises and songs. The music was upbeat and I recognized a few melodies although I had no idea of what the young man was saying or singing. At one point, I closed my eyes to just feel his words and the music. Lo and behold, what picture came to my mind, but the picture of the Arab shopkeepers whom we met in the Old City! Why them? Because the young man sounded just like the shopkeepers who were bargaining with us and the one ranting at us. And then I realized something. They were not forcing us to buy or acting rude at all. That’s their culture and their way of expressing themselves. Just as this young man was leading us into songs and worshiping God passionately, those shopkeepers were selling goods and interacting with customers passionately.

It took me, a more traditional and reserved Chinese woman, an encounter at the Church and a nudge from the Holy Spirit to really see and appreciate the Arab culture. They live their lives with passion, whether it be their business or their worship.

Since that Sunday, my venture into the Old City became more relaxing. I could look into the eyes of the “bargaining” shopkeepers and say “Hello” and “Shukraan” without fearing that I was committing myself to buying up the whole store. And yes, the shopkeeper kept his side of the promise and gave us beautifully-crafted necklaces.

Wendy Choy-Chan came to North America from Hong Kong when she was 15.  After graduating with a MScE, she worked as a telecommunications engineer for 5 years before becoming a full-time wife and mom.  Wendy just earned her MA in Theology at Fuller Northwest and is looking forward to what God has planned for her next. She lives with her husband and two daughters in Seattle, WA.