I wrote an article for Arab America, which was then republished by Yes! Magazine and Truthdig. I’ve posted it below.

Christmas has been canceled in the Holy Land. Decorations that have hung for years in Bethlehem have been taken down, parades will not take place, and streets typically overflowing with tourists are empty. Thus, the cultural and religious holiday that commemorates the birth of Jesus Christ will be celebrated by billions across the globe but not in the place where Jesus—and Christianity—were born. 

The Patriarchs and Heads of the Churches in Jerusalem, an interdenominational group of church leaders in the Holy Land, made the announcement on Nov. 10. While the season is normally marked with delight, “These are not normal times,” they wrote. “Since the start of the war, there has been an atmosphere of sadness and pain. Thousands of innocent civilians, including women and children, have died or suffered serious injuries. Many more grieve over the loss of their homes, their loved ones, or the uncertain fate of those dear to them. Throughout the region, even more have lost their work and are suffering from serious economic challenges. Yet despite our repeated calls for a humanitarian ceasefire and a de-escalation of violence, the war continues.” 

Outgoing mayor Hanna Hanania told the Catholic News Agency, “Bethlehem, as any other Palestinian city, is mourning and sad… We cannot celebrate while we are in this situation.”

So, on Christmas Eve, at the Catholic church in Los Angeles where I worship, red poinsettias and pine trees with lights will line the altar. Children will reenact the feast of the Nativity. Some will wear angels’ wings and others will carry shepherds’ staffs. The next morning, they’ll wake up to numerous presents hidden under the tree and even more from Santa. All this while the streets surrounding the Church of the Nativity—the actual birthplace of Jesus in Bethlehem in the occupied West Bank of Palestine—will be dark. Mass will be simple. Those who have money for extra will give it to others who have lost their homes and livelihoods. 

This paradox feels unbearable. It reminds me of Zaina Arafat’s essay “Witnessing Gaza Through Instagram,” in which she writes, “‘Everything normal right now is obscene,’ I heard Israeli journalist Amira Hass say early on in the war, and it’s true. Even sitting down to articulate this moment feels obscene.”

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