Amidst the ruins of war, a flicker of hope shines in Gaza this Christmas. For the first time in two years, the Holy Family Church, the sole Catholic parish in Gaza, has illuminated its Christmas tree, marking a fragile return to tradition after Israel's devastating conflict. This Christmas Eve mass, while joyous, carries a weight of sorrow and resilience. The church, a sanctuary amidst the devastation, buzzes with worshippers, their faces reflecting both the joy of the season and the profound relief of survival. But the twinkling lights and festive decorations can't mask the scars left by the war. Celebrations are muted, confined to a prayer service and intimate family gatherings. Yet, the peal of church bells, a defiant symbol of hope, fills the air, offering a fleeting sense of normalcy.
Take Dmitri Boulos, a 58-year-old parishioner, for instance. He, along with his wife and two children, sought refuge in the church during the early days of the conflict after their home in Tal al-Hawa was shelled. But even the church wasn't safe. 'It was hit twice while we were inside,' Boulos recalls, his voice heavy with the weight of loss. 'We lost friends, loved ones. Everything felt meaningless. How could we celebrate when everything around us was shattered?'
Boulos, like many Gazans, clings to hope. He prays this Christmas and the coming year will bring an end to the suffering, lift the restrictions, and allow Gaza to heal. 'We try to convince ourselves and our children that things will get better,' he says, 'even though the reality is brutally harsh. We yearn for a return to what was.'
But here's where it gets controversial: While the Holy Family Church was spared from designated expulsion zones, other Christian places of worship in Gaza City, like the Greek Orthodox Church of Saint Porphyrius and the Anglican St. Philip’s Church, weren't so fortunate. This raises questions about the targeting of religious sites and the true nature of 'safe havens' during conflict.
And this is the part most people miss: The dwindling Christian population in Gaza, already reduced to a few hundred from 3,000 in 2007, faces an uncertain future. The war has accelerated this decline, leaving a community traumatized and struggling to rebuild.
Nowzand Terzi, standing outside the church, her eyes distant, embodies this struggle. 'My heart is still heavy,' she confesses, 'burdened by the tragedies and exhaustion of the war.' She lost her home, then her daughter, who fell ill and couldn't reach a hospital in time due to the conflict. Her story is a stark reminder of the human cost of war, a cost that extends far beyond physical destruction.
The situation in Gaza is dire. Nearly two million people grapple with ongoing Israeli attacks, ceasefire violations, food and medicine shortages, and a crippling shelter crisis. Over 288,000 families are displaced, their lives upended by the war and exacerbated by Israeli restrictions on humanitarian aid.
Edward Sabah, a young man of 18, knows this reality all too well. He sought refuge in the Saint Porphyrius Church, only to witness its bombing in October 2023, an attack that claimed 18 lives. 'We never thought the church would be targeted,' he says, his voice trembling with the memory. 'But during war, nothing is unexpected. Bombing was everywhere.'
Despite the trauma, Sabah, like many Gazans, holds onto hope. 'This Christmas feels less intense,' he says, 'but fear lingers. Still, we decorated the church, trying to create joy.' His aspirations are simple yet powerful: to complete his education and build a future amidst the rubble.
This Christmas, while a time of joy for many Christians in Gaza and Palestine, is also a time of reflection and resilience. It's a testament to the human spirit's ability to find light in the darkest of times. Janet Massadm, a 32-year-old Gazan, exemplifies this spirit. After two years of grief and displacement, she dressed up, styled her hair, and celebrated Christmas with a newfound determination. 'We're tired of loss and fear,' she says, her voice trembling with emotion. 'But we must create joy, find happiness, even in the face of adversity.'
Her words echo the sentiments of many Gazans, a people deeply rooted in their land, determined to rebuild and reclaim their future.
But the question remains: Can true peace and justice ever be achieved in Gaza? As we celebrate this Christmas, let's not forget the ongoing struggles of the Palestinian people. Let's engage in meaningful dialogue, challenge narratives, and strive for a future where hope isn't just a flicker, but a blazing light for all.
