At Al Aqsa Mosque, Islam's third-holiest site and a place at the heart of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, Muslims do so much more than pray.
It is a place where they seek reprieve from the daily acts of cruelty that define the Israeli occupation. To Al Aqsa's visitors, this occupation is symbolised in part by the stern-faced police who guard the complex's gates and arbitrarily deny entry to anyone they please.
But once inside, visitors experience a sense of freedom rarely found elsewhere in heavily policed Jerusalem, whose predominantly Arab east – home to the mosque and the Old City – was captured by Israel in the 1967 Middle East war and annexed in 1980.
Many of young people play football on Al Aqsa's sprawling plaza, using footwear for goalposts. Friends and relatives picnic for hours or sit with a cup of home-brewed tea or coffee while enjoying a cool summer breeze.
The elderly sit on garden chairs on the plaza outside the mosque, conversing endlessly after sunset prayers until the muezzin calls on the faithful to gather again for isha, the day's fifth and final prayer.
Young men and women escort their ailing elders to the mosque, pushing their wheelchairs or supporting them as they cross the plaza to pray either at Al Aqsa or at the Dome of the Rock.
Many form small circles to recite verses from the Quran. The more seasoned among them frequently stop the less so to correct their pronunciation. Mothers take advantage of the plaza's large and unhindered space to give their babies a chance to hone their walking skills.
On Fridays, thousands flock to Al Aqsa for the main weekly prayers, filling the mosque and the nearby one built at the Dome of the Rock, which is reserved for women when the number of worshippers is too large.
They arrive hours before the ritual begins. Those who choose to stay on the plaza shield themselves from the summer heat in the shade of the complex's trees.
To the Palestinians, especially residents of Jerusalem, Al Aqsa means much more than a deeply revered place of worship that has over time acquired symbolic, spiritual and political significance for Muslims.
For them, it is a place of refuge where they can find solace, a place that shields them from the ravages of the most violent phase of the decades-old Palestinian-Israeli conflict.
Their dream of an independent state of their own is fast vanishing as Israel presses on with its devastating war in Gaza, considers the annexation of the occupied West Bank and uses its military might to become the region's dominant force. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has recently spoken publicly about his dream of a “greater Israel” that envisages taking over territory from neighbouring Arab nations.
Already, the Gaza war has killed more than 64,700 Palestinians, starved hundreds of thousands and destroyed most of the tiny enclave.
“Al Aqsa is a refuge for Jerusalemites and Arab Israelis alike. Their ties to Al Aqsa are defined by their faith and conviction,” said Sheikh Akremah Sabri, who, at 87, is the longest-serving imam of Al Aqsa.
Muslims and Christians from the occupied West Bank need Israeli permits to visit holy sites in Jerusalem.
The strength of the bond between Jerusalemites and Al Aqsa is a reflection of their faith and, in equal terms, their enduring resolve to prevent Israel from taking it over, changing it or restricting their access to the site.
“Jerusalem is Al Aqsa,” Ahmed Abul Hawa, 37, a bus driver from Jerusalem, declared. “I consider myself fortunate to belong to a city that's home to Al Aqsa.”
While Muslims see the mosque as their third-holiest site, Jews also revere the site. These conflicting narratives are at the heart of the Arab-Israeli conflict, now fuelled by the nationalist and expansionist policies of Mr Netanyahu's right-wing government.
Israeli extremists, and now members of Mr Netanyahu's government, have over the years stormed the site on occasion to remind everyone of their claim. Palestinians say those incursions have increased in frequency since the start of the Gaza war. The war was caused by a Hamas-led attack on southern Israeli communities that killed about 1,200.
Israel's far-right National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, for example, has stormed the site several times since Mr Netanyahu's government, the most right-wing in Israel's history, took office in December 2022.
The Islamic Awqaf – part of the Jordanian Ministry for Religious Affairs and Islamic Holy Sites that administers the complex – said Mr Ben-Gvir and more than 1,200 others prayed, shouted and danced when they stormed the site in August, acts that the Palestinians saw as irreverent or disrespectful.
Under a delicate decades-old status quo between Israel and Muslim authorities, Al Aqsa compound is administered by a Jordanian religious foundation, while Jews can visit but cannot pray there.
“Only a few years ago, a Jewish person caught praying, dancing or flying Israel's flag inside Al Aqsa complex risked immediate arrest by the police,” said Mustafa Abu Sway, a US-educated expert on Al Aqsa who lectures at both the mosque and Al Quds University. “Now they dance and sing with impunity.”
The visits routinely take place from Sunday through Thursday. They last an hour or a little longer under tight police protection. They are not allowed on Fridays and Saturdays.
On Jewish holidays, these visits can attract thousands. Muslims inside the complex are not obliged to leave when the Jews arrive, but police clear their path of Muslim worshippers.
Security measures around Al Aqsa have been significantly tightened since the start of the Gaza war, with police posted at the complex's 10 active gates demanding proof of identity from visitors or, in some cases, turning them away without giving reasons.
Imams who criticise Israeli policies in the West Bank and Gaza have been barred from giving sermons for at least six months or from entering the complex altogether for a similar period.
On August 22, the day the UN declared famine in Gaza, the Friday sermon at Al Aqsa made no direct mention of Gaza or the declaration, only praying to God to feed the hungry.
“The hungry only pray to God to end their suffering and the hungry only scream 'relieve us', like the Khalifa Omar did,” Sheikh Mohammed Sarandah told worshippers in his sermon. He was alluding to Omar Ibn Al Khatab, a companion of the Prophet Mohammed who dealt with famine in Madinah during his seventh century rule.
Policemen are also posted inside Al Aqsa complex, standing guard on the peripheries of the plaza. They are posted in much larger numbers during Friday prayers, which attract thousands from Jerusalem and Arab communities across Israel.
Mr Abu Sway said routine maintenance work on the complex has become a bureaucratic nightmare, with the smallest repair work or additions requiring permits from police.
“To bring in even a small brick is a big deal,” he said. “An engineer was handcuffed and placed under arrest for allowing a worker to use cement to support a loose tile,” said Mr Abu Sway, whose expertise is in the works of Imam Al Ghazali, a prominent 12th-century Sufi theologian and philosopher.
Sermons and prayers at the mosque routinely include supplications for the protection of the site, which has over the centuries been subjected to earthquakes, fires and attempts by extremists to destroy or burn it down.
The worst modern-day attack on Al Aqsa happened in 1969 when an Australian, Denis Michael Rohan, tried to torch the building. A large fire raged for hours, gutting the roof before firefighters put it out.
The incident outraged Muslims and inspired the creation later that year of the Organisation of Islamic Co-operation, a Pan-Islamic group that now has 57 member nations.
