Barred from Jerusalem - Easter for our Palestinian Partners
This year, Easter for our sisters and brothers in Christ living in the West Bank and Jerusalem was once again overshadowed by the horrors of the conflict still unfolding in Gaza and the daily reality of living under Israeli occupation.
Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem. Credit: Nicola Carnall, Pixabay
Easter is usually a time when international tourists flock to the region. For the second year in a row, few chose to go. For the West Bank’s crippled economy, which relies heavily on tourism, this was another significant blow.
The Easter services were allowed to take place but, citing security concerns and threats of terrorist attacks, the Israeli authorities once again restricted the number of West Bank residents entering Jerusalem and the Holy Sepulchre to a fraction of their previous numbers. For the lucky few who did get permits, they had to negotiate long queues at the numerous check points and a heavy Israeli security presence.
These are the headlines, but what was the reality for ordinary Palestinian Christians? We asked two of our friends, Rami and Rodolf, what their Easter celebrations were like.
Rami told us that, for him, this Easter felt markedly different:
Easter has always held a profound significance for us, symbolizing the suffering of Christ, the cross, and the resurrection. As Palestinians, we often feel that we, as a community, are enduring our own crucifixion, yet we hold onto the belief that we will rise again and that justice will ultimately prevail, despite the prolonged injustice.
This year, Easter feels markedly different, deeply intertwined with our ongoing struggle and suffering. My family and I were unable to attend Palm Sunday in Jerusalem because we were not granted a permit, restricting our movement out of Bethlehem. The celebrations were subdued, with people commemorating in silence.
During Holy Week, our family joined the community in daily prayers at the Christmas Lutheran Church in Bethlehem. As we follow Christ's footsteps during this sacred time, we see similar struggles in Gaza and the West Bank and wonder how long we will remain on the cross. The festivities in Bethlehem are minimal, overshadowed by the harsh realities of occupation, restricted movement, and a dire economic situation that suffocates the town.
Despite these challenges, Easter serves as a powerful parallel to the voice of the oppressed, guiding us on the path to freedom. It is a poignant reminder that injustice will eventually fail, and hope will find its way back into our community.
The parallels of the Easter story to the reality of daily life in the West Bank and Jerusalem was something that Rodolf also commented on:
We usually celebrate Easter as a family, beginning with the Holy Saturday Mass and the Holy Fire procession in Jerusalem. However, for the past eight years, I have been driving my family to the nearby town of Beit Jala to celebrate Holy Saturday. We have made this change for many reasons, but primarily because of the total closure of the Old City of Jerusalem by the Israeli authorities and the severe restrictions on access to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
Holy Fire ceremony at the Holy Sepulchre (when Holy Fire is said to miraculously appear in the Tomb of Christ on Easter morning) is one of the most sacred rituals in Orthodox Christianity. (Photo credit: Daniels 97, Wikimedia Commons)
This Holy Saturday, some of our colleagues attempted to reach the Church but were denied entry, waiting for hours with their children at Israeli checkpoints, sadly, to no avail. As reported in the news, there were incidents of police brutality, including priests, elderly people, and scouts being assaulted. Even the Apostolic Nuncio [the diplomatic representative of the Vatican] was detained at a checkpoint on his way to the Holy Sepulchre.
Living through this pain during the Holy Week, in the land where Jesus carried his cross, gives a deep and heartbreaking dimension to our Easter. It feels as though we are walking alongside Him, bearing a portion of that same sorrow and injustice.
Despite this, my family and I found comfort in the celebrations at Beit Jala, where thousands gathered in a peaceful and festive atmosphere. Easter Sunday remains a time for the extended family to come together.
This year, we shared lunch with my mother and my parents-in-law, and in the afternoon, all the children of the extended family played together at my in-laws' home. In these difficult times, it becomes even more important to hold fast to our traditions and the values we were raised on, celebrating the Holy Week in a spirit of faith, family, and resilience.
