Ten years ago, in 2015, the late Anton Sabella, a publicist and cross-cultural consultant from Jerusalem, shared his reflections online, in Arabic, about the experience of Easter in Jerusalem.1 (He has since passed away in March 2022.)

In his reflections, he wrote about the unmatched anticipation leading to the Easter holiday. Prior to the 1967 War, pilgrims would visit Jerusalem from Lebanon, Syria, Egypt, and Iraq, as well as Cyprus and Greece.

Masses flowed into Haret al-Nasara (the Christian Quarter) in the joyful season, and hundreds of local inhabitants opened their homes to the pilgrims. With all the hotels overbooked, churches would ask the dwellers to host pilgrims because their numbers were overwhelming. Local inhabitants not only complied, but many would not take any money from the pilgrims.

Jerusalemites used the colloquial term, hajina, to describe the pilgrims. Most of the hajinas were elderly Greeks or Cypriots who rarely spoke a word of English. Jerusalem’s shopkeepers, residents, and children had memorized the Greek words, “Ti Kanes? Kala,” (“How are you doing? Good.”) to make them feel welcome. “It’s a good deed to host those individuals who must have used their entire savings just to witness Easter in Jerusalem,” my own grandmother used to say of the pilgrims she had hosted during the 1970s to late 1980s. Many of them would carry their small chairs to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, to make sure they didn’t miss out on the festivities after traveling all the way to Jerusalem.

Sabella described how Easter technically starts with Lent: in Jerusalem, he shared, most people refrain from eating meat on Wednesdays and Fridays. He went on to explain the rituals of Easter, including Palm Sunday’s festive walks, Holy Thursday’s Washing of the Feet and Last Supper at Gethsemane (now a church and ancient garden on the Mount of Olives),2 and Holy Friday’s procession along the Via Dolorosa. His highlight was the funeral mass at the Greek Melkite Catholic Church near Jaffa Gate on Holy Friday, followed by Holy Saturday (Sabt al-Nur).

Besides these events at the city’s holy sites, Anton Sabella mentioned the tradition of preparing and decorating ka‘ek wa ma‘moul (shortbread pastries) with artistic patterns. These delicious treats have become symbolic of the suffering of Jesus Christ. Christians believe he was forced to bear a heavy wooden cross along the route of the Via Dolorosa in the Old City of Jerusalem, crowned with thorns and beaten by Roman soldiers who mocked his thirst by offering him a sponge soaked in vinegar. The round-shaped ma‘moul (stuffed with date paste) symbolizes the crown of thorns, whereas the dome-shaped ka’ek (stuffed with chopped walnuts) represents the holy sponge.

“We would all sit around the table and shape the ka‘ek and ma‘moul, filled with joy,” Sabella wrote:

Anton Sabella goes on to explain how believers would walk on Holy Friday through the 14 stations of the Cross, all the way to Golgotha, the site of crucifixion, which Orthodox worshippers situate in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.4 All the roads were decorated with candles. Emigration, he notes, has emptied Jerusalem of its Christian population.

Anton Sabella’s account of Sabt al-Nur shares a particular Jerusalem tradition that is unbeknownst to most people. This is the zaffeh, or local procession.

Without recognizing the zaffeh, the unique popular Arab spirit that stands as a living testimony to the rootedness of the Palestinian people on the land is lost. It is in the Easter holiday’s zaffeh that the Christian Quarter’s spirit emerges; in a communal celebration and tower of camaraderie, the youth lift up their candles, crosses, T-shirts, and even one another onto their shoulders to the beat of drums and music.

They then go silent  when entering the church, anticipating the Holy Fire’s emergence from inside a small internal chapel:5

At that point, the zaffeh continues: “Sabt al-Nur wa ‘ayyadna,” Jerusalem’s youth chant the “Holy Saturday; the light of our feasts,” all the while demonstrating their authentic connection to al-Quds, the holy city of Jerusalem.

The zaffeh itself, although celebratory, is a show of strength and resistance. Having acknowledged the agony of Christ (and their own suffering in the midst of occupation), the youth hone their sorrow—becoming something greater through it. Their suffering is redemptive, they emphasize, as it leads to salvation. They announce their own elevation above sorrow, transforming grief into growth, and letting their inner fire transform setbacks into fuel. When chanting about the salvation of humankind, Jerusalemite Christians bring their own lived experience of ongoing war, occupation, and hardship.

Dr. Bernard Sabella, brother of the late Anton Sabella and an accomplished Jerusalemite, shared on April 17, 2025, a compelling, lively narrative of Holy Week from the heart of Jerusalem. Describing Easter ceremonies, he describes the joyous procession of the zaffeh and offers samples of some of the passionate chants that ring out through the narrow alleys of the Christian Quarter:

Also among the little-known cherished Jerusalem Easter rituals carried out on Holy Saturday—a full day of events—is the ceremony of the Ethiopian [Habash] Orthodox Christian community. This gathering of jubilation happens on the evening of Holy Saturday at the Der al-Sultan Monastery, on the roof of the Holy Sepulchre Church, and follows a similar Friday of mourning.

The night does not stop there. Another distinctively Jerusalem event happens after midnight. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which would have accommodated thousands of people welcoming the Holy Fire and echoing with church bells and cheers, hosts a solemn gathering into the early hours of the morning.

For the local community, what happens next is the hajmeh: the “descent” is the battle proclamation against the kingdom of darkness, the period of time between the Crucifixion and Resurrection. This commemoration of the descent into hell is only observed within the Orthodox Church, which considers it an important step in salvation. It represents that hell is not a final destination, so to speak, and is not something to be feared. Rather, Orthodoxy emphasizes the defeat of sin, death, and the Devil—preserving the teachings of the early Church.8

For the hajmeh, certain Palestinians in Jerusalem make it a point to declare their message in Arabic. A vivid example of that is Terry Boullata, renowned Palestinian human rights activist. In conversation with Jerusalem Story, she affirmed that she and her family make it a point to be physically present during the hajmeh, to ensure that the words “al-Masih qam, haqqan qam” (“Christ has Risen”) are immediately declared in Arabic at the very moment, before any other language.9

Arabness, she stresses, is central to Orthodoxy; it is the root of the Christian denomination in the region, making it critical to preserve this heritage.

Much like the zaffeh is representative of the Arab Christian spirit, Anton Sabella’s account from 10 years ago, which itself narrates the rich history of rituals around Easter in Jerusalem, demonstrates the changes that are happening on the ground. As the presence of Christians is diminished in their holy city, so too have many of the customs disappeared, and hajinas are nowhere to be seen.

The memory Anton Sabella shared of Jerusalem is important to document with his passing, as it speaks to a gradual rewriting of history. His records and family photos remain as living testimony to a different time: