Israeli Restrictions Disrupt Palestinian Christians' Holy Week in Jerusalem

Under Israeli restrictions, Palestinian Christians mark quiet Holy Week. Israeli restrictions disrupt Jerusalem's Holy Week, leaving the Christian Quarter deserted and businesses shuttered. Occupied East Jerusalem – It's Holy Week for many Christian denominations, marking the week during which Christians believe Jesus was arrested, crucified and resurrected here. And yet, the streets of the Old City's Christian Quarter are deserted, the shops closed down. Boulos, a Palestinian Christian man in his mid-30s who did not wish to give his real name, still comes a couple of days a week to his shop, selling religious garments and wares. He keeps the entrance half-shuttered to evade Israeli authorities, who have ordered such shops closed during the ongoing US-Israel war on Iran.

The Christian Quarter, once a hub of pilgrimage and commerce, now feels abandoned. Boulos, who has watched his business decline for years, says the war with Iran has pushed him to the edge. "Before the war [with Iran], business was still really bad. But it was at least enough to feed yourself," he said. "Now, there's no business at all, no money at all." His shop, a relic of a more vibrant era, sits in silence most days. On a rare morning, an Ethiopian woman entered, asking for prayer candles. She was his first customer of the day. "Since the morning, I've been here for nothing," Boulos said. "What will 35 shekels [$11.20] do for me? What's the difference?"

While most businesses in Israeli West Jerusalem remain open, the Palestinian Old City faces a different reality. The absence of bomb shelters has forced closures here, leaving the Christian Quarter – reliant on tourism – nearly lifeless. Brother Daoud Kassabry, a lifelong Jerusalemite and principal at the College des Freres School, described the desolation. "It is the first time in my life to see Jerusalem as sad as it is," he said. For over a month, the school has had no in-person classes. "This has been the most difficult month in our area here, really, in our time. For parents, for the school, for the students, for the teachers – for everybody."

Holy Week traditions, once central to the community, have been disrupted. Students from Kassabry's school would normally join scouts for the annual Palm Sunday procession. This year, that tradition was canceled. Israeli authorities blocked Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa, the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, from entering the Church of the Holy Sepulchre – a site central to Christian faith – to perform Palm Sunday Mass. According to the Latin Patriarchate, this was the first time "in centuries" such restrictions had been imposed. "No one, not even the pope, has authority to cancel the liturgy of Easter," Cardinal Pizzaballa said at a news conference.

Israeli police actions drew criticism from Italy, France and the United States. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu defended the restrictions, citing safety concerns due to the lack of bomb shelters near the church. Yet local Palestinian Christians see the rhetoric as a veiled assertion of Israeli control over holy sites. The status quo, which grants custodianship of religious sites to Jordan's King Abdullah II, is increasingly under threat. For many, the message is clear: "This country is only meant for them."

The closures and restrictions have deepened divisions. Tourism, once a lifeline for the Christian Quarter, has dwindled. Schools struggle to function. Families face uncertainty. For Boulos, the shop is more than a business – it's a symbol of a fading heritage. "What will 35 shekels do for me?" he asks, his voice heavy with resignation. For now, the silence of the Christian Quarter speaks louder than any celebration.

Bishop Emeritus Munib Younan has spoken out about the recurring harassment he has faced from Jewish yeshiva students in the Old City of Jerusalem, describing instances where he has been spat at without any legal consequences. His remarks come amid growing tensions over access to holy sites and the erosion of religious freedoms in the region. For many Christians, the situation has become untenable. Boulos, a local shopkeeper, now chooses to attend church services at the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem or a small church outside Jerusalem, where he feels safer. "There, nobody is pointing a gun at you on the way to church. Life is at least normal," he said. "Here, life is not."

The sentiment echoes across the community, with Bishop Younan accusing Israeli authorities of sending a message to the world that Jerusalem belongs exclusively to Jews. "They want to show the whole world that this country is only meant for them – not Christians, not Muslims," he said. This logic, however, has been met with skepticism. The prohibition of high church officials from entering the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Christianity's holiest site, has been criticized as hypocritical. Bishop Younan recounted memories of wartime refuge in the Church of St John the Baptist during the 1967 Six-Day War, when Christians, Muslims, and Jews alike sought shelter in places of worship. "During war, where do you find refuge? To church, to the mosque, to the synagogue, to pray and say, 'God give me strength,'" he said.

The backlash from Western Christian allies has forced a reversal in Israeli policy. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu announced that religious ceremonies at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre would be allowed during Holy Week, though the general public remains barred. This concession has been viewed by locals as a stark contrast to the continued restrictions on Muslim worshippers, who have been prohibited from entering the Al-Aqsa compound since February 28. Even during Ramadan and Eid, Israeli border police have used tear gas, stun grenades, and batons to disperse Muslim worshippers attempting to pray outside the Old City walls, with minimal condemnation from Western leaders.

The restrictions have deepened the challenges for the Palestinian Christian community, already a minority in Jerusalem. With less than 2 percent of the population identifying as Christian in Israel and the occupied Palestinian territories, the cancellation of key religious events like the Way of the Cross procession and Holy Fire Saturday has further marginalized their presence. "This year, we miss it," said Brother Kassabry, a school principal. "Many people who don't enter the church the whole year go only on these days, especially on Good Friday. Because this is the feast of Jerusalem."

Despite the cancellations, local churches have remained open for services. However, attendance has been affected by fear. "Some people were afraid to come," Brother Kassabry admitted. Priests like Father Faris Abedrabbo of the Annunciation Latin Parish in Ein Arik have adapted their messages to reflect the community's struggles. "I tell them we can recognize in our daily lives something of Christ's own suffering: his fear, his anguish, his sense of abandonment," he said. "In this context, one word becomes central for us: steadfastness."

The crisis has also accelerated the exodus of young Palestinian Christians, many of whom seek visas to emigrate to the United States, Canada, or Australia. Bishop Younan lamented the lack of employment opportunities in the region, saying, "I don't blame them if they think of emigration. But this is bad for our future." Boulos, the shopkeeper, has also considered leaving but clings to hope. "They try as much as they can to get us to lose hope, and to leave this country," he said. "I try to have hope. That is why I still come here – to show myself I still have hope."

Yet, for all the despair, Father Abedrabbo's message remains clear: "Steadfastness is not passive endurance. It is an active, spiritual resistance: to remain rooted in good, in truth … to refuse hatred, and to continue choosing life." As the holy season unfolds, the resilience of a community on the brink is both a testament to faith and a warning of what is at stake.