‘God lies under the rubble in Gaza’: Bethlehem’s subdued Christmas celebration

There will be no musical festivities. No tree lighting ceremony. No extravagant decorations that normally adorn the West Bank city of Bethlehem at Christmas. With the war raging in Gaza, this is a city in mourning.

In perhaps the most public demonstration of how Israel’s war in Gaza has dampened Christmas celebrations in the city seen as the birthplace of Jesus, a Lutheran church has set up its nursery, but with a sad and symbolic twist. The baby Jesus – wrapped in a keffiyeh, the black-and-white checked scarf that has become a sign of Palestinian identity – does not lie in a makeshift crib of hay and wood. Instead, it lies among the rubble of broken bricks, stones and tiles that represent much of Gaza’s destruction.

“We were glued to our screens and saw children being pulled from the rubble day after day. We are heartbroken by these images,” said the Rev. Munther Isaac, the pastor of the Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church that founded the daycare. “God is under the rubble in Gaza, this is where we find God now.”

The war began on October 7 in response to Hamas’ surprise attack on Israel, which left about 1,200 dead. As the conflict enters its third month, some of the most ubiquitous images of death and destruction are of dead Palestinian children being pulled from the ruins of Israeli airstrikes. Almost half of Gaza’s 2.2 million residents are children, and about 70 percent of those killed are women and children, according to Gaza’s Health Ministry and the United Nations.

The ministry says about 20,000 Palestinians have been killed since the war began.

Although Gaza is some 70 kilometers from Bethlehem, in the Israeli-occupied West Bank, Palestinians in the city feel this acutely. They worry about family and friends in Gaza and find their own lives restricted – whether it is Israel’s more draconian borders since the start of the war, traffic in and out of the city, the economic fallout of the war, or canceling Christmas celebrations.

Last month, the patriarchs and heads of several churches in Jerusalem urged their congregations in a statement to refrain from “unnecessarily festive activities.” Instead, the statement said, priests and worshipers should “focus more on the spiritual meaning of Christmas in their pastoral activities and liturgical celebrations.”

Local Christian leaders say there are about 35,000 Christians in the Bethlehem area. The symbolism of Christmas is part of the soul of the city.

But the war has cast a shadow.

Usually in the city center, a gigantic Christmas tree is placed on a stage on Mangerplein – named after the manger where Jesus’ parents, Mary and Joseph, are said to have sought shelter – and a ceremony of the celebration takes place with great fanfare. lighting of the trees takes place. . But this year there is none. The church steeples that adorn the city’s skyline and streets are normally decorated with Christmas decorations. But they are bald now.

Yet there is one tradition that will live on, albeit in a somewhat toned-down version, and that is the famous Procession of the Patriarch, in which the Roman Catholic Patriarch travels from Jerusalem to Bethlehem to mark the journey of Joseph and Mary.

The Patriarch will start the procession on Christmas Eve as usual, accompanied by Boy Scouts and Boy Scouts, but this year they will march in silence, without playing musical instruments.

Once the patriarch arrives in Bethlehem, he will walk along Star Street, the historic street that runs through the old city to the Church of the Nativity, built on the site where Jesus is believed to have been born. Afterwards he will celebrate a midnight mass.

Normally Mahmoud Abbas, the president of the Palestinian Authority, and other dignitaries attend the mass, but it is unclear whether that will happen this year.

Within the sacred arches of the church on the edge of Bethlehem’s ancient city are some signs of the holiday; wreaths and red-and-gold ornaments decorate the columns and some church entrances.

“We will avoid music, external ceremonies and outdoor decorations,” said the Rev. Rami Asakrieh, pastor of the Latin Church of St. Catherine of the Nativity. But he added that decorations in the church were important.

The horror of war should not bury the spirit of Jesus, he said recently, as church workers set up a small Christmas tree along one of the hallways. “Despite the circumstances, we must still show that Jesus is the source of happiness and peace in the church.”

For the residents of Bethlehem, the war also had economic resonance.

Tourism represents a significant portion of the area’s revenue, Bethlehem Mayor Hanna Hanania said, especially during the holidays. And no people are coming now.

On average, 1.5 million to two million foreign tourists visit the city of Bethlehem every year. But since the start of the war, the tourism industry has come to a complete standstill, and, Mr Hanania said, “economic life is now paralyzed.”

Rony Fakhouri, a 27-year-old social worker and manager of the Dar Al Majus guest house, said the establishment had lost about 100,000 shekels, or about $27,000, in revenue since the war began.

He said the guesthouse typically sees at least 200 guests between October and mid-January. “Between October 7 and today we have had exactly 12 individuals,” he said.

Mr Fakhouri also works as a night shift manager at another hotel, but he has now lost that job.

“Even during the Covid-19 pandemic, they let me keep my job,” he said. “But this time, because of the war, they let me go.”

“Even if the war ends,” he added, “tourism will not recover immediately.”

For Yousef Al Zuluf, a 22-year-old accountant and fashion designer from Bethlehem, the war in Gaza has hit particularly close to home. His maternal grandparents and aunt lived there.

His grandfather was reluctant to leave his home even after the fighting started because he had been displaced once before. He was about six years old when he moved to Gaza at the time of the Nakba – as Palestinians refer to the displacement of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians during Israel’s declaration of independence in 1948.

“He is about 82 years old,” said Mr Zuluf, “he does not want to start a new life somewhere else.”

The family members eventually left Gaza with their foreign passports, but only after living for weeks with little food and water and barely a place to sleep.

For Pastor Isaac, whose Lutheran church has gained some fame with its rubble-themed manger scene, the focus during this holy season should be on the Israeli bombardment of Gaza, not the cancellation of Christmas festivities.

“We do not see this as a war against Hamas,” he said. “It is a war against the Palestinians.”

He came up with the idea of ​​the altered manger scene as a way to not only mark the birth of Jesus, but also acknowledge the deaths of so many children.

“This is what Christmas looks like now in Palestine: children are killed, homes destroyed and families displaced,” he said of his daycare. “We see the image of Jesus in every child killed in Gaza.”