In late May 2025, as Israel marks Jerusalem Day (Yom Yerushalayim), the air in the capital is thick – not just with incense and flag-waving, but with contradiction. For many, it’s a national celebration of triumph and return. For others, it’s a reminder that the city never truly unite – geographically, yes; spiritually, emotionally, and politically, far from it
Today, Jerusalem swings like a rusted pendulum between sacred legacy and daily dysfunction. Construction cranes rise next to ancient stones, and skunk spray greets your nostrils at key intersections—an acrid symbol of the tense times. The city tries to gleam, to blossom, to stand tall—but the present weighs heavy. Protests rage, religious factions clash, and societal fractures deepen across its ancient streets
A City That Shines—And Shivers
Lights will illuminate the Old City walls. The iconic flag parade will march with pride. But for many residents—Jewish, Muslim, Christian—the day feels less like a unifying event and more like a mirror, reflecting both pride and pain. Since the 1967 capture of East Jerusalem, Israel declared the city whole. But on the ground, in hearts and sidewalks, the gap has only grown
I remember being a child, gripping my father’s hand, walking through Damascus Gate into the Old City. The locals didn’t see us as pilgrims. We felt more like intruders—alien, overdressed, Israeli. They offered us ka’ak, falafel, baklava. Smiles wrapped in suspicion. It wasn’t yet about Temple Mount tensions or political flames—it was something deeper. A city trying to swallow its history without choking
Now, in 2025, Jerusalem still sings with beauty: its museums, libraries, sacred places, and diversity are unmatched. But its soul remains divided—between ancient sanctity and modern absurdity. To be a Jerusalemite is to live between the holy and the ridiculous. To yearn and to rage. To find no parking and still fall in love with the skyline
On Jerusalem Day, we’re told to rejoice. But this year, maybe it’s time to reflect. To ask ourselves what kind of unity we truly want—and whether we’re willing to walk the winding alleyways of memory and confrontation to get there
