Subdued Passover and Easter in Jerusalem as Iran war rages

As Iran war rages on, Jerusalem’s sacred holidays muted by fear and closures

Jerusalem’s cobblestone streets echo with an unnatural emptiness as Passover and Easter approach in a city transformed by conflict. The Iran war, now in its fifth week, has cast a shadow over what should be a vibrant season of celebration and pilgrimage in one of the world’s most sacred cities.

In the normally bustling Old City, metal shutters cover almost all storefronts. The vast plazas that typically overflow with pilgrims and tourists now stand eerily vacant. Religious sites that have withstood centuries of regional conflicts face unprecedented restrictions.

“The heart aches greatly, it bleeds, seeing the Western Wall as it looks now,” laments Rabbi Shmuel Rabinowitz from his office overlooking the Western Wall plaza, Judaism’s holiest prayer site, now closed to worshipers.

Jerusalem has historically been spared direct attacks during regional conflicts, with combatants generally avoiding targeting the city’s significant Muslim holy sites. This unwritten rule has crumbled since Israel and the United States initiated strikes against Iran in late February, with Jerusalem repeatedly coming under missile fire.

The consequences became terrifyingly real when an intercepted Iranian missile scattered shrapnel onto the rooftop of the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate, just steps from the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. This revered site, built where many Christians believe Jesus was crucified, buried, and resurrected, now sits closed under military directives prohibiting gatherings exceeding 50 people.

Missile debris has also struck a road leading to the Western Wall, further underscoring the unprecedented threat to Jerusalem’s sacred geography.

The traditional Passover blessing ceremony, which normally attracts tens of thousands to the Western Wall, will proceed with just 50 participants—a restriction reminiscent of pandemic-era limitations. This dramatic scaling back of religious observances has profound spiritual implications for the faithful.

Christian celebrations have faced similar disruptions. The Latin Patriarchate canceled Jerusalem’s Palm Sunday procession, complying with military guidelines. Despite this compliance, Jerusalem police reportedly prevented Catholic Church leaders from entering the Church of the Holy Sepulcher to celebrate Mass—an action the Patriarchate called “manifestly unreasonable and grossly disproportionate,” noting it was “the first time in centuries” such access was denied.

The Palm Sunday procession typically sees tens of thousands of Christians from around the world walk from the Mount of Olives toward the Old City, waving palm fronds and singing. Its absence leaves a spiritual void for the faithful.

Rami Asakrieh, Jerusalem’s Catholic parish priest, reflects on this loss while finding deeper meaning: “We are celebrating resurrection, resurrection is from death and winning the pain and the war. It will not come by having fear, but by having faith.”

Muslim worshippers have likewise seen their traditions disrupted. Al-Aqsa Mosque compound, Islam’s third-holiest site adjacent to the Western Wall, has stood largely empty since the conflict began, forcing the cancellation of prayers during most of Ramadan.

“It’s like there was no Ramadan for us,” says Fayez Dakkak, a third-generation Muslim store owner in the Old City whose shop has served Christian pilgrims since 1942. Police orders have shut down his business, along with all non-food stores in the area, as part of wartime safety measures.

For Israeli families, Passover preparations continue under extraordinarily difficult circumstances. Instead of hosting large gatherings with relatives from abroad, many are planning smaller, more intimate seders. The traditional pre-Passover cleaning, which requires removing all traces of leavened foods from homes, now takes place “in between running for the shelter,” says cookbook author Jamie Geller, who works near the Western Wall.

The conflict has claimed 16 civilian lives and left dozens seriously injured, wearing down Israelis after a month of daily sirens. Ben Gurion Airport operates on a severely limited schedule, while some Israelis are fleeing through the land border into Egypt’s Sinai desert—an ironic parallel to the Exodus story commemorated during Passover.

From her office, Geller can see where missile fragments have damaged rooftops, roads and a parking lot near the Western Wall. “The Old City has always been a bit off limits for international terror and war,” she observes, “but not this time.”