Jerusalem’s Old City remains quiet this Lent as family artisans and restaurateurs adapt traditions and hold hope for tourism’s slow revival.
Newsroom (26/02/2026 Gaudium Press )As the solemn season of Lent begins in Jerusalem, the cobbled lanes of the Old City are eerily subdued. The steady hum of pilgrims that once filled its narrow passageways has yet to return in full force. After years of pandemic closures and renewed conflict from the Israel-Hamas war, only a trickle of international visitors now wanders through the ancient gates, leaving a silence that echoes across centuries of devotion.
For many Christian families whose trades and shops have catered to pilgrims for generations, survival has meant invention. Their livelihoods, rooted in sacred traditions, are finding fragile new ways forward amid uncertainty.
Resilience in Clay and Ink
In the Armenian Quarter, the scent of glaze and the hum of brushes mark a quiet renaissance at the Karakashian family’s Jerusalem Pottery workshop. Hagop Karakashian, 58, whose grandfather Magardich first brought Armenian ceramics to the city over a century ago, now welcomes local patrons to decorate their own vessels. It is an intimate gesture — one that keeps the workshop’s kiln burning even in lean times.
Across the Old City, another ancient art endures. Wassim Razzouk, heir to a 700-year-old Coptic tattooing legacy, has carried his Jerusalem-born craft abroad, offering pilgrim tattoos in neighboring countries and Europe. Between journeys, he returns home to train his sons — the next link in a lineage that has survived conquests, pandemics, and wars.
“When you start seeing all the Old City open, every door of the Old City shops open, that’s when you know things are back to normal,” Razzouk says. For now, he stays, tempered by realism but bound by heritage. “It’s more than just a business. It’s a history for your family.”
Still, he wrestles with the future: his 24-year-old son, after glimpsing stability abroad, wonders whether to continue the family’s Jerusalem story.
Tradition Meets Adaptation
Nearby, Hagop’s daughter, Patil, 24, assists in the pottery studio between chemistry classes at Hebrew University. Whether she will one day inherit her father’s craft remains uncertain. “We’ve had tourists come to do workshops or buy our art,” Karakashian says. “But the bottom line is we need stability.”
That longing for peace and predictability is echoed throughout the Christian Quarter. A few new ventures — cafés and bakeries near the New Gate — have opened cautiously, backed by the Jerusalem municipality. Their existence signals not an economic revival, but a gesture of faith in a possible recovery.
Bread, Coffee, and Quiet Optimism
On a sunlit corner near St. Savior Franciscan Monastery, Patisserie Jack offers a familiar aroma of espresso and fresh pastries. The owner, Jack Amer, has seen many crises since opening his bakery 26 years ago. His tables now serve a mix of locals: municipal workers, international volunteers, and neighbors who gather over cake and conversation.
“When you get to the heart of the Old City, this is the traditional way we live as local people,” Amer says, glancing at the passing foot traffic. “Palestinians, Israelis, internationals — my shop is for everyone.”
Still, his optimism is cautious. “A few foreign visitors returning may not be enough, but it is something.”
New Faces, Old Walls
A few steps from Jaffa Gate, Omar Ayyoub recently opened Angel Restaurant, inspired by a rescued 1924 church fresco from Abu Gosh. A structural engineer by training, Ayyoub turned salvaged pieces from convents and churches into a restaurant both reverent and radical. His eclectic menu — blending Lebanese, Palestinian, and Mexican influences — seeks to tell a new Jerusalem story beyond religion.
He doesn’t cater primarily to pilgrims but to locals and thinkers. “I already put in lots of financial and emotional investment,” he says. “It’s worth it for me to take this risk. Our history is mostly tied to religion, but I wanted to tell my story.”
Faith and Perseverance
Inside Jaffa Gate, 27-year-old Ameer Khoury manages Oak Restaurant, where Palestinian musakhan meets Italian focaccia. Working with a single sous chef to reduce costs, Khoury stays afloat with the help of family and faith.
“I believe that at some point life will go back to normal,” he says, smiling through fatigue. “It may take time. I’m a person who believes in God, so I just pray for better days.”
Across the Old City, that sentiment binds the faithful and the weary alike. Each new plate served, each pot fired, each tattoo inked is an act of hope — a quiet resilience etched into Jerusalem’s ancient stones. Lent may be a season of reflection and restraint, but for those who remain, it is also a season of steadfast waiting — for peace, for pilgrims, and for the sound of open doors once again.
- Raju Hasmukh with files from OSV News
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