In one of the narrow alleys of the Old City of Jerusalem, there is a small metal door and, above, a kind of crenelated archway with white and black stripes. According to a plaque near the door, this is an ornate 14th-century palace.
When I was studying at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem almost two decades ago, one of the professors told us this was a Mamluk-era architectural addition. It wasn’t clear from the plaque if this was the case. Like many things, it gives us a window into the ever-changing face of Jerusalem. Perhaps it was Mamluk; they conquered the city in 1260 and ruled it for around two and a half centuries, apparently. They are gone now.
I went to the Old City of Jerusalem on December 25, 2025, to see if I could find holiday cheer and Christmas events. The night before had been Christmas Eve in Bethlehem, where people had gathered at the Church of the Nativity. One could argue that Jerusalem is not a major site for Christmas, and actually, Bethlehem has more connections to the historic day. However, considering that there are some Christians in Jerusalem and many historic churches, one would expect to find something. On the other hand, Orthodox Christmas isn’t celebrated until January 7.
Christmas in Southern Jerusalem
My first stop on the journey to find Christmas in Jerusalem was not in the Old City but rather in southern Jerusalem, overlooking Bethlehem. There is an olive field near Gilo that overlooks Rachel’s Tomb, Bethlehem, and Beit Jala. It was here, during the Second Intifada, that people used to be targeted by sniper fire. Now things are quiet. The security fence and wall that was built between Bethlehem and Jerusalem can be seen – a relic of the Second Intifada.
Down the road is the large thoroughfare called Hebron Road, the historic road that links Jerusalem to Bethlehem. It’s named Hebron Road because it also goes to Hebron. On December 24, there was an event near Mar Elias Monastery, on Hebron road, in honor of the arrival of the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa, prior to his entry into the city of Bethlehem.
The site of the Greek Orthodox Mar Elias monastery is a traditional stop for Christmas processions to Bethlehem. From the monastery, one can see all the way to the Herodium, the palace of Herod, which is in the West Bank. One can also see a small hill that was fortified by the Jordanians when they used to control this area near Kibbutz Ramat Rachel.
Down the road, a 10-minute drive, one arrives at the Old City of Jerusalem and the Tower of David. Parking here is impossible, as apparently a huge number of people have come to Jerusalem on December 25 to shop at Mamilla, the posh mall near the Old City. They had not come for Christmas.
After parking, I walked up toward New Gate, searching for Santa Claus. I’d seen photos in the morning of a man dressed as Santa taking pictures with people here. When I finally got to the area where the Jerusalem Light Rail makes a sharp bend near the Old City walls, there was no Santa. There was a large sign: “I Love Jerusalem” with the word “love” replaced by a giant heart.
This area is flanked by the Jerusalem Municipality and Notre Dame, the giant center built by French Catholics to house pilgrims in the 19th century. The massive building and its outcroppings were so strong and large that it became a key battle in the 1948 War of Independence for Israel. In the end, Israel held onto Notre Dame, and the Jordanians held the Old City, a dozen meters across from what is now the Light Rail Line. In 1967, the Jordanians were ejected from their positions.
Across from the towers of Notre Dame is the New Gate of the Old City. This is the main entrance to the Christian Quarter. Here was the first holiday cheer I could find. There was a large inflatable Santa. A small store was full of Christian souvenirs, endless little Santa sleighs, cups, Santa hats, and pajamas. Finally, I had found Christmas. The shopkeeper was chatting with a priest in Arabic. Outside, there were several small wooden sheds that must have been part of a Christmas market; they were already closed up, and decorations were being taken down. The Christian school Collège des Frères seemed like it had an event the night before. The Catholic Patriarchate is nearby.
I pressed on from New Gate into the Old City, taking a left and passing an Armenian restaurant called Yerevan. A few shops had Christmas trees, but most were closed, and soon the shops gave way to deserted streets. At the Orthodox Patriarchate, there was no one around. Further down, a shopkeeper flicked a cigarette into the street. Not exactly festive.
Eventually, I came to the historic street that leads toward the Holy Sepulchre. A Franciscan priest with a brown habit and a white corded belt made his way along the stone street. There was no other evidence of Christmas. One tourist seemed to be measuring a giant carpet for sale. A short road leads past a mosque, outside of which an Israeli tour group was listening to a discussion about the Holy Sepulchre Church. Here were some Christian pilgrims.
The entrance to the church is now framed by stone and wood construction infrastructure. Apparently, the floor just inside the historic doors is being redone.
A few minutes’ walk from the Sepulchre Church, the modern and large Lutheran Church of the Redeemer was open for Christmas. It had a sign saying it was hosting events on December 25 and 27. I think this was one of the few times I saw the word “Christmas” on something in the Old City.
Despite walking through the Christian Quarter, there was a sense that this area was deserted. The shops, even the ones selling crosses and Christian items, didn’t seem to have many Christmas decorations. Is it possible to conclude that most of the shops are now owned or run by Muslims, as the Christian population here has declined dramatically? It wasn’t clear, and I didn’t ask.
I left behind the Lutheran Church and went down through the Muslim quarter to reach Al-Wad Street, the busy street that runs from Damascus Gate to the Western Wall and borders the Temple Mount. This street was full of people. Around half seemed to be members of several large Muslim pilgrimage groups from countries in Asia.
A woman in an Islamic niqab covering her whole face and sunglasses spoke to her bearded husband in an Australian accent. Here, I had found the pilgrims. They were all Muslim, it seems.
At Abu Shukri Hummus, several Western tourists, one with a German accent, were eating. At a nearby Russian church, one could peek inside and see Christmas decorations. Passing the Austrian Hospice, I thought maybe I’d stop, but decided not to.
I’d had enough of the Old City and this endless search for a largely non-existent sense of the holiday. Walking out toward Damascus Gate, where the narrow alleys finally give way to a large courtyard, there were two large men from India making their way up the stairs, both wearing red Santa hats. Finally, I thought, I’d found some merrymakers. Then, passing several Israeli Border Police and a haredi (ultra-Orthodox) man on his way to the Wall, I exited the Old City to get back to the Light Rail.