Suzanne and Young Israeli We arrived in Sarajevo as afternoon prayers rang out from the city’s many mosques. It was the first day of Ramadan, and the city was at peace. As my friend Iztok and I peeked past the central fountain just inside the mosque’s iron gates, veiled women kneeled on our left, as barefoot men followed suit on the right.

In this holiest month in the Muslim calendar, observers fast between dawn and dusk, celebrating the angel Gabriel’s gift of the Koran to Mohammed. At nightfall, families and friends gather to break the fast, celebrating with a full meal and an evening of socializing.

In Sarajevo, the city streets were quiet until about 9 p.m. Iztok and I were the only patrons at the stand selling Balkan sausages, warm bread and soft cheese. Then, as if on cue, the streets began to fill with the universal giddiness of the holiday season. Within an hour, cafes and pubs were packed with people drinking special nonalcoholic cocktails and eating pancake sweets filled with nuts and cheese, both in celebration of Ramadan.

Two weeks later, I would see the same in East Jerusalem as I drank tea sandwiched between the soothing sounds of two burbling nargelas (pipes for flavored tobacco). But this time, it was also the eve of Yom Kippur, and I soon realized that my minor in religion left quite a bit to be desired in regards to Orthodox Judaism.

Mosque in Jaffa This came to light with one man, a Hassidic Jew wearing a six-inch fox fur hat and ever so carefully waving a chicken above his head. At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Certainly, that wasn’t a live chicken, and that fur hat couldn’t be real in this heat? But indeed, both were 100 percent genuine.

Erez, my Israeli friend, explained that on the eve of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, Orthodox Jews wave a chicken over their heads to transfer their sins into the animal. The bird is then sacrificed as an offering to God. Less orthodox Jews, like Erez’s family, use a shekel (Israeli coin) and donate it to charity after Yom Kippur.

Outside of Jerusalem The holiday’s most important tradition, like that of Ramadan, is one of fasting. For 25 hours, from before sundown until three stars appear in the evening sky the following night, the country of Israel and Jewish communities around the world are silenced. No one eats or drinks, and those truly keeping Yom Kippur refrain from showers, television, radio or any other sort of "work." Israeli stations are merely blank screens or hushed static, and no cars can be found on the streets.

In addition to the transfer of sins, hundreds of Jewish people make their way to the Wailing Wall the night before Yom Kippur. Ere, our friend Sandrine and I, found ourselves trapped in the traffic jam that this created, preventing us from retreating to our cavernous hostel inside the Old City Walls. We stood aside, as parents carried sleeping children, and men passed in long black robes, with tendrils of hair framing faces beneath an assortment of headwear the likes of which I had never seen before.

Dome of the Rock I know that Israel and Palestine are synonymous with religious tension, unrest and the proverbial “clash of civilizations,” but somehow, as I watch people of different backgrounds giving thanks to their God of Abraham, I see more similarities than differences. Both Ramadan and Yom Kippur are celebrated by times of quiet fasting, spent in the company of loved ones. And both derive from the same region, the same town, the same rock, in which their prophets heard the voice of God.

May this holiday season bring us the peace for which we all pray.

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