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christmas
Another Somber Christmas in Palestine as Gaza Genocide Continues
"I wish the war would end and we could return to our homes in peace," said one little girl whose grandmother was killed by an Israeli sniper.
Dec 25, 2024
From the illegally occupied "little town of Bethlehem" in the West Bank to a pair of churches in Gaza where Israel's bombs and bullets have killed clerics and congregants alike, Palestinian Christians marked another somber Christmas amid a relentless Israeli assault whose victims on Wednesday included refugees sheltering in tents and medical staff and patients at a besieged hospital.
For the second year in a row, public Christmas celebrations were canceled at the Nativity Church in Bethlehem, which is built over the spot where Christians believe Jesus Christ was born.
"This should be a time of joy and celebration. But Bethlehem is a sad town in solidarity with our siblings in Gaza," Lutheran Pastor Munther Isaac said during his Christmas sermon at a church whose nativity display again had baby Jesus lying in a pile of rubble.
"It's hard to believe that another Christmas has come upon us and the genocide has not stopped," Isaac added. "Decision-makers are content to let this continue. To them, Palestinians are dispensable."
In Gaza, hundreds of Palestinian Christians huddled in two churches amid ongoing attacks by Israeli forces.
"This year, we will conduct our religious rites and that's it," Ramez Souri toldThe New York Times at the St. Porphyrius Greek Orthodox Church in Gaza City. "We're still in mourning and far too sad to celebrate, or do anything except to pray for peace."
Hundreds of Palestinians were sheltering on the grounds of the 12th century church—Gaza's oldest—when Israeli forces bombed it in October 2023, killing 18 people including Souri's three children and relatives of former Republican U.S. Congressman Justin Amash of Michigan.
In a pre-Christmas homily at Holy Family Church in Gaza City—Gaza's only Catholic church— Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa, the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, told congregants, "You have become the light of our church in the entire world."
"At Christmas, we celebrate the light and ask: Where is this light?" Pizzaballa continued. "The light is here, in this church."
"I don't know when or how this war will end, and every time we approach the end, it seems like we start anew," he added. "But sooner or later, the war will end, and we must not lose hope. When the war ends, we will rebuild everything: our schools, our hospitals, and our homes. We must remain resilient and full of strength."
Like St. Porphyrius, Holy Family has suffered a deadly Israeli attack. Last December, an Israeli sniper shot Nahida Khalil Anton, the elderly matriarch of the largest Catholic family in Gaza, as she crossed a courtyard in the church compound on her way to the bathroom. Her daughter Samar was shot in the head when she rushed out to try and help her mother.
Both women died. Seven other people were shot and wounded. Israeli soldiers and veterans have said that they were given permission and even orders to shoot anyone who moves in parts of Gaza.
"I wish the war would end and we could return to our homes in peace." A Christian Palestinian girl in Gaza wishes for peace on Christmas Day amid Israel's war, at the Holy Family Church in Gaza City.
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— aljazeera.com (@aljazeera.com) December 25, 2024 at 5:52 AM
On Sunday, Pope Francis—who in a new book called for a genocide investigation of Israel's war on Gaza—said: "Yesterday, children have been bombed. This is cruelty; this is not war."
The cruelty continued on Christmas as Israeli attacks throughout Gaza killed at least 13 people, according to officials. The dead include people sheltering in a tent northwest of Khan Younis, Palestine Red Crescent Society volunteer Alaa al-Derawi—who was shot in the chest while at work transporting patients—and Walaa al-Faranji, a well-known fashion designer, author, and photographer who was killed along with her husband Ahmed Salama in an airstrike on their home in the Nuseirat refugee camp.
Local media also reported continued Israeli shelling and attacks on Kamal Adwan Hospital in Beit Lahia, where staff and scores of patients including premature babies have endured weeks of siege conditions.
All told, Gaza and international agencies say that at least 45,361 Palestinians have been killed in Gaza and more than 107,800 others wounded by Israeli forces since the Hamas-led attack of October 7, 2023. At least 11,000 other Gazans are missing and believed to be dead and buried beneath the rubble of hundreds of thousands of bombed buildings. Millions more Palestinians have been forcibly displaced, starved, or sickened.
Thousands more people have been killed or wounded by Israeli forces in the occupied West Bank and East Jerusalem, according to the United Nations agency for Palestinian refugees.
Israel is currently on trial for genocide at the International Court of Justice in The Hague. Last month, the International Criminal Court, also based in The Hague, issued arrest warrants for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Yoav Gallant, his former defense minister, as well as for Hamas leader Mohammed Diab Ibrahim Al-Masri, for alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity.
Back at St. Porphyrius, parishioners pooled what little food they could find to prepare a communal Christmas Eve meal. Although many Gazan Christians have expressed fears that their community—one of the oldest Christian communities in the world—could be wiped out by Israel's genocidal onslaught, the holiday meal represented a faint glimmer of hope.
"We wanted to do something to show that we're still here," Souri explained, "despite it all."
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'Even When Things Look Dark, Way Down, in the Human Heart—There’s a Light'
A reflection on a 'Christmas Song'—our family's favorite—and one that speaks solemnly and soulfully to the deep drive that fuels our common dreams.
Dec 24, 2024
It’s true I have a favorite Christmas song, but as it turns out, it’s not one that many people know—at least I assume most people don’t know it.
Funny enough, the title is simply “Christmas Song,” and it was performed—at least the version I know—by songwriter Greg Brown during a live show back in 2001.
Though an atheist, my fondness for Christmas—perhaps like it is for many—is wrapped in the nostalgia of the holiday of my upbringing as well as the ongoing joys I find during this “season of giving.” Like religious celebrations across many faiths, Christmas has the ability to open the human heart and reminds us (if we let it) of that spirit that enriches us and challenges us to understand what it means to share, not material gifts, but time and warmth with one another.
In Brown’s song—which I encourage you to listen to here or below—the story of Jesus is subtly inverted.
Rather than a story of miraculous birth—”It was the night before Christmas,” the song begins, “but nobody was really noticing that”—it is a story about the routine of birth (“something women do” and that “men kinda, sorta, a little bit… help”) in which the only miracle is the gift of life that we’ve all been granted.
Just getting born is such an amazing thing
You'd think we'd all just be nice forever after—
Just to get to be a part of it.
You'd think that anybody that ever held a little baby in their arms
Would be so careful not to ever do any damage
To another human being—or to the creation
Of which we are so obviously a part.
The song presents a story of Jesus that escapes Christianity, which is perhaps why I find it so lovely and piercing, and opens the door to thinking about the hidden promise of a holiday that too often asks us “what we want” as opposed to reflecting on the joys of what we’ve been given.
Sometimes when I get distraught
About our world and what we're doing to it
I remind myself that little children like that are being born every day.
The story in the song is not about a boy who grew up to “found any big religions, with shiny churches,” but rather a story “about a world so much better than this one.” In this story, the unnamed boy “was just a child full of love, who went around and talked about love.”
And so it follows that the lesson of such a child is not that he was exemplary (though perhaps he was), but that we too often fail to recognize the potent and profound goodness of so many people among us, past and present—not children of God, but examples of humility and decency.
Sometimes when I get distraught
About our world and what we're doing to it
I remind myself that little children like that are being born every day.
They may not make a lot of big news
But in their life, they’re kind;
They take care of people;
They don’t blow things all out of proportion.
They spread the news that this life,
So mysterious and hard, is a wonderful enterprise
That should be cherished.
And Brown, led all along by the slow strum of guitar, speaks sorrowfully but clearly as he tells his listener:
So Christmas, if it’s anything at all,
It’s every day. It’s every night.
And even when things look dark, way down…
In the human heart,
That we all share...
There’s a light.
And, only to the song’s credit, it makes me think that’s true. I don’t call it religion, but that idea has shaped my understanding of what the promise of human goodness really is. We know it exists, not because we read about it or were told to believe in it—but because we’ve seen it. We’ve witnessed it.
So Christmas, if it’s anything at all, it’s every day. It’s every night.
Even amidst all the horror and violence and injustice, we know in our life, the good people—young and old and those neither young nor old—and they don’t ask us to believe, but show us the way.
When I listen to this song—as I often will at this time of year—it does something solemn to my heart, the hearts of my family, and those we share it with.
Since I first heard it, the song has always been to me a magnificent expression, though that was not its intent, of what Common Dreams seeks to represent—a world full of people who embody that spirit of loving one another and defending the common good while challenging “the political leadership of the day,” as the song puts it.
We don’t often use that kind of language, but that’s what this project we call Common Dreams is about: love. The news we report and the opinions and analysis we share are all grounded in a deep love for people, community, life of all kinds, and the planet that sustains us all.
I know very well how dark it feels right now for so many. We are right to be frightened and angry and frustrated. And at the same time, we must remember that the light “we all share, in the human heart” is the beginning of our path forward. We are going to have to fight like hell, but that fight will be built on love and solidarity or nothing at all.
With endless gratitude for all you do in the world, dear reader, and the example you set for the rest of us.
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With Christmas Cancelled in Bethlehem, What Can I Give My Daughter?
I give you my promise, that I will do my best to help create a future that does not repeat the violent history of the past.
Dec 25, 2023
I’m sorry that I didn’t buy a single present for you this year. It’s not in my heart. Maybe I will pick up some candy canes on my way home from CVS. I know you like candy canes.
In Bethlehem, the place Jesus was born, they cancelled Christmas this year.
The only joy in my heart is bittersweet. But I treasure every second of it, the blessing of your delightful, warm skin still attached to your strong, delicate bones, the privilege of listening to your breath while you are sleeping, feeling your heart beat against my fingertips as I lift you into bed. The reminder that these are privileges that our cousins’ cousins in Gaza do not have.
For our Palestinian and Lebanese family, the warplanes are rarely silent.
My father, your grandfather, when he was the same age as you, was forced to leave his home in Jerusalem during the first Nakba. My grandmother packed the house neatly. They told the children they were going on vacation in Egypt. They had the means to escape, a privilege that their cousins did not have. During the first Nakba, which means catastrophe in Arabic, Zionist militias expelled over 750,000 Palestinians from their homes and villages, in the process of creating the state of Israel in 1948. Then, as now, the world powers endorsed this violent expulsion of our people.
In 1917 British Foreign Secretary Arthur James Balfour endorsed the creation of a “Jewish national home in Palestine,” in a letter which is now known as the Balfour Declaration. And many of those with the least luck of all were shuttled into Gaza, which has become an “open-air prison,” according to Human Rights Watch. “The only conflict in the world in which people are not even allowed to flee,” as then-U.N. High Commissioner for Human Rights António Guterres has said.
Israeli leaders have been clear for weeks: The Gaza Nakba is underway. Israeli real estate agents have already posted images online advertising “pre-sale” deals for beachfront villas in Gaza. Now even the U.N. special rapporteur on the human rights of internally displaced persons warns that Israel is actively working to expel the civilian population of Gaza.
So what gift can I give you this year? I find a grain of truth amid the knowledge that the timing of this holiday has more to do with ancient solstice celebrations than the exact birthday of any religious leader. Those holidays held a hope in the deep of winter for a prosperous planting season to come.
And so this year, I give you my promise, that I will do my best to help create a future that does not repeat the violent history of the past. A future where no father or mother wails over their child’s cold body, where no child’s eyes stare blankly at the world, wounded with no surviving family.
As Palestinian poet Marwan Makhoul has written, “In order for me to write poetry that isn’t political, I must listen to the birds and in order to hear the birds the warplanes must be silent.”
For our Palestinian and Lebanese family, the warplanes are rarely silent. I hope someday we can help our neighbors in the heart of this world power to see that bombs overseas “explode at home,” as Martin Luther King, Jr. has said. So that someday we can all sing together with our whole hearts, about joy in the world, golden suns, spiders, and little stars. And I will try to remember to bring home some candy canes, because I know you like them so much.
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