Palestinian Christians in Gaza observed Good Friday at Holy Family Church under a fragile ceasefire, gathering for prayers amid the ruins of a war-torn enclave. The congregation, once around 1,300 strong, has dwindled significantly since the start of Israel's military campaign, according to local sources. Worshippers attended Mass in a church compound that has become a refuge for hundreds of displaced families, its courtyard filled with tents and weary faces. Father Manuel Musallam, a senior priest in the parish, led the service, urging resilience: "We carry the cross, but we also carry hope." The liturgy, marked by somber hymns and quiet reflection, unfolded against the backdrop of destroyed buildings and ongoing humanitarian shortages. Aid deliveries have increased slightly during the ceasefire, but basic necessities like clean water, fuel, and medical supplies remain scarce. The church, one of the few standing places of worship in Gaza City, has sheltered Muslims and Christians alike throughout the conflict. Church leaders have repeatedly called for a permanent end to hostilities, emphasizing the shared suffering of all civilians. No foreign religious dignitaries visited this year, a break from past traditions when regional church leaders would join the congregation. The Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem had expressed concern over the community's future but did not send representatives due to access restrictions. With communications still erratic, the exact number of Christians remaining in Gaza is uncertain, but church officials believe most have fled or been displaced. The next Mass is scheduled for Easter Sunday, though it is unclear whether the ceasefire will hold or if more families will be forced to move.
When Father Manuel Musallam says "we carry hope," he is not speaking of comfort — he is naming defiance in the face of erasure. The near-invisibility of Gaza's Christian community today is not an accident of war but the result of a prolonged siege that has made survival itself an act of resistance. Their presence, small as it is, disrupts the false narrative that this is solely a Muslim-Jewish conflict. That they still gather, in a church turned shelter, says more about endurance than any ceasefire ever could.
