For Bethlehem, Christmas is not just a holiday it’s the city’s public heartbeat, its economy, and its global symbolism. This year, thousands gathered again in Manger Square on Christmas Eve for what Al Jazeera describes as the first public celebrations since 2022, after festivities were reduced or canceled for two years amid the war’s toll.
The details are vivid: a giant Christmas tree returned to the plaza, replacing a wartime nativity display that depicted baby Jesus amid rubble and barbed wire—an image meant to echo Gaza’s devastation. The swap of displays is more than decoration. It’s a statement about what the community is trying to do: reclaim normal rituals without pretending the surrounding reality has disappeared.
But the story is not “back to normal.” The same report frames the celebration as occurring amid Israeli raids across the occupied West Bank, underscoring that public joy is happening alongside insecurity. This is the paradox of life in conflict zones: people restart traditions not because the danger ends, but because waiting for “perfect safety” can mean waiting forever.
Bethlehem’s gatherings also have an economic dimension. When mass tourism collapses, local businesses hotels, shops, guides collapse with it. While the piece focuses on the public scene, the subtext is that reopening celebrations is also a bid to reassert the city’s place in the world’s attention.
The symbolism runs deeper: Christmas in Bethlehem is globally televised, a ritual of visibility for Palestinian Christians and for the broader Palestinian story. When celebrations are muted, it’s like the city’s microphone is turned down. When they return, even partially, it reopens a channel of international empathy and scrutiny.
At the same time, the return of celebration can be politically contested. Public festivities can be read as defiance, resilience, or “distraction,” depending on the observer’s lens. The report notes the prior cancellations were framed as respect for those killed during the war; resuming them doesn’t negate that grief it reframes how grief and life coexist.
In a broader sense, the Bethlehem scene is a reminder that “latest news” isn’t only about leaders and battles. It’s also about civic life restarting in small, meaningful ways. A square filling with families doesn’t solve geopolitics. But it signals a population trying to retain identity and continuity when politics keeps rewriting the terms of everyday life.
And the image of the plaza tree back, crowds back, but war still present captures the emotional truth of 2025’s end: many places aren’t choosing between joy and sorrow. They’re carrying both in the same frame.