On the morning of Saturday, March 7, 2026, the 17th day of the holy month of Ramadan, Adam Saeed, 25, left his home in the Wadi al-Joz neighborhood of Jerusalem. He had not ventured out in several days due to the escalating war that had started a week prior and that had only exacerbated the frustration, oppression, and tension already felt by Jerusalemites.

He walked from his house to al-Zahra Street, then on to Salah al-Din Street, with no direction in mind. He thought to himself: “I just want to experience Ramadan in Jerusalem. I haven’t been able to do so in a week.”1 Israel’s unprovoked strikes on Iran on February 28 led to retaliatory attacks by Iran that have been accompanied by incessant sirens blaring across Jerusalem and the sounds of explosions in the direction of Tel Aviv. Though Saeed could not see them, they made his body tremble with fear.

“I’ve grown accustomed to the fact that death lurks around every corner in Jerusalem,” he said. “A strike can happen at any moment.”

Saeed exchanged greetings with the owners of the few shops that had opened that day, trying his best to make the most of the holy month. He was optimistic that the commercial activity, however modest, was a positive sign that more shops might be opening after a week of closure.

After walking to the end of Salah al-Din Street and turning right, he found himself in front of the Damascus Gate, where he encountered numerous Israeli security checkpoints. Normally, soldiers at these structures prevent Palestinians from approaching the Old City. These days, the only Palestinians generally allowed entry are those who can prove that they reside in the Old City. As a result, the area around Damascus Gate has been deserted, shrouded in an eerie darkness during the night, since the war began.

But on that day, the eighth day of the war on Iran, and for the first time since it began, there were no Israeli soldiers or police at the checkpoints leading to the gate.

Saeed hurried inside the Damascus Gate, excited to greet the city he loved. “I swear, I touched every stone along the way inside the Old City,” he told Jerusalem Story, “as if apologizing for not being able to come and ask about its condition for the past eight days.”

Saeed saw many people carrying bags of crispy, delicious Jerusalem barazeq sweets wrapped in white paper for protection, and decided to head directly to al-Razem bakery in the al-Sa‘diyya neighborhood. Barazeq are a Ramadan specialty in Jerusalem, and al-Razem bakery had prepared a large quantity of the cherished pastry on racks, despite the few people who were there. “Everyone was afraid,” he lamented.

A young Palestinian who works at the bakery told Jerusalem Story: “This is the first day the bakery has reopened since the war was launched by Israel and the US. We’ve been preparing the barazeq for a week because of the lockdown. I’m so happy to see that people from outside Jerusalem have returned.”2

Saeed decided to buy 30 pieces of barazeq, because he did not know if he would be able to return to the bakery.

Nothing is guaranteed in Jerusalem.

On his way home, Saeed turned right on Salah al-Din Street to al-Zahra Street, where the National Hotel is located. This hotel is a favorite among Muslims visiting Jerusalem, because it does not serve alcohol. It is particularly popular during Ramadan, according to its owner, the well-known Jerusalem businessman Osama Salah.

Salah told Jerusalem Story that his hotel relies heavily on Ramadan to overcome the economic crisis the city is facing. “We depend on Muslim tourists, especially during the last 20 days of Ramadan, when hotel occupancy rates exceed 100 percent,” he explained.3 “The hotel is usually packed with foreign Muslims and those from within Israel. However, today, due to the war with Iran, the airport closures, and the closure of al-Aqsa Mosque, occupancy rates have plummeted to a mere 2 percent.”4

Salah continued: “On Thursdays and Fridays, we usually receive many Muslim guests from within Israel, as well as Muslims coming from Britain, South Africa, and Asia, who wish to observe i‘tikaf in Jerusalem during Ramadan. These days, five hotels in Jerusalem have closed due to the war and the absence of Muslim tourism.”

“The war has inflicted heavy losses on [Palestinian] hotels and shop owners in Jerusalem,” he described. “We had hoped that Ramadan would help us overcome financial hardship for the next few months, but we are in a state of complete devastation. Even during the war on Gaza, bookings exceeded 80 percent, because international borders and airports were not closed, and al-Aqsa Mosque was not completely shut down.”

Salah concluded: “Our faith in God is great. We hope that the situation will change for the better. Jerusalem barely escapes one calamity before falling into an even greater one. Since the coronavirus pandemic, we have been suffering immensely.”

But Salah, like many others who are keen to perform their prayers at al-Aqsa Mosque, feels deep spiritual sadness, because Jerusalemites have been prevented from accessing al-Aqsa Mosque, which has been closed by the Israeli authorities since the start of the war.

Salah expressed his frustrations: “Believe me, we are like fish out of water. Without al-Aqsa, we are nothing. I personally used to pray almost all my prayers there.”

He added: “Al-Aqsa is everything to us; our souls are bound to it. I don’t feel at peace, not even the spirituality of Ramadan, except when I am in al-Aqsa. Even our prayers don’t feel the same at home as they do in al-Aqsa. When we enter, we feel comfort and tranquility, and we forget all our worries for the sake of prayer.”

"They say they closed al-Aqsa for our protection,” Salah went on. “We tell them that we believe that if death is decreed for us, we will die wherever we are, even in our homes. We believe in divine fate and destiny, and that’s why I don’t know why they closed al-Aqsa during the war on Iran.”

Sheikh Azzam al-Khatib, chairman of the Jerusalem Islamic Waqf Council and Director General of the Waqf Department, which manages al-Aqsa Mosque, shared the same sentiment. As he inspected the deserted Qibli Mosque, he expressed his deep sorrow at the situation: “There is no power nor strength except with God. I hope this nightmare for al-Aqsa ends, and that worshippers return as before.”5

Israeli forces allowed restricted prayers to be held on March 6, 2026, in al-Aqsa Mosque for the third Friday of Ramadan, but without worshippers. Only the imam and a number of Waqf Department guards were allowed to attend.

According to the Waqf Department posting on March 4, only 21 employees were being allowed to enter al-Aqsa Mosque at all: 15 guards, a muezzin, an imam, a custodian, a cleaner, and a firefighter.6

Despite the closure, Jerusalemites gathered at all the checkpoints Israeli forces erected at the entrances to the Old City and held Friday prayers there, demonstrating the strong connection between the Palestinians of Jerusalem and the besieged al-Aqsa Mosque.

One of the young worshippers at Damascus Gate told Jerusalem Story: “We hope that al-Aqsa will reopen as soon as possible, because this situation cannot continue. It’s unacceptable for al-Aqsa to be closed during Ramadan for such illogical reasons. We fear that the Israeli authorities have other plans regarding al-Aqsa, and that they are exploiting the closure.”

Near al-Aqsa Mosque is the centuries-old Takiyya Khaski Sultan soup kitchen, which, despite Israeli restrictions, has continued to operate, providing food to the needy, including the Waqf Department guards and staff. Bassam Abu Labdeh, the soup kitchen’s director, told Jerusalem Story that they did everything they could to keep the kitchen running during these difficult times in Jerusalem this year. He even had to come to the site in the middle of the night to avoid being barred from entering the Old City during the day.

Abu Labdeh says that the number of people coming to the soup kitchen has increased significantly due to the closure of the Old City and the inability of many families to obtain their daily sustenance. Many families who used to rely on restaurants offering free meals during Ramadan have now turned to the soup kitchen. This is compounded by the overall economic challenges many in Jerusalem currently face.

Abu Labdeh adds that the Old City is bleak and desolate. “May God help the merchants of the Old City who used to look forward to Ramadan every year to improve their economic situation,” he says.7 “Since the pandemic, merchants and even street vendors have come to depend on Ramadan to improve their circumstances, but this year, the situation has deteriorated due to the unjustified Israeli closure.”

He concluded: “Despite all this, we are here. We are steadfast, and we will not die except here.”