For the first time in centuries, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem—one of Christianity’s most sacred sites—stood closed to its highest Catholic leaders on Palm Sunday. On March 29, 2026, Israeli police prevented Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa, the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, and Francesco Ielpo, the Guardian of the Church, from entering to celebrate the traditional Mass. The move, which came amid the ongoing war between Israel and Iran, triggered a wave of international criticism and ignited debate about religious freedom in a city revered by billions.
The Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem minced no words in its response. In a public statement, church officials declared, “For the first time in centuries, the Heads of the Church were prevented from celebrating the Palm Sunday Mass at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.” They called the police action “a manifestly unreasonable and grossly disproportionate measure,” arguing that it disregarded the sensibilities of Christians worldwide and violated both freedom of worship and the long-standing status quo governing Jerusalem’s holy sites.
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, believed by Christians to be the site of Jesus’ crucifixion, burial, and resurrection, is the focal point of Palm Sunday celebrations. Traditionally, the day launches Holy Week, the most sacred period in the Christian calendar. In normal years, tens of thousands of pilgrims would wind their way from the Mount of Olives, waving palm fronds and singing hymns before gathering for Mass inside the church’s ancient walls.
This year, however, was anything but normal. As Iranian missile attacks repeatedly targeted Jerusalem, Israeli authorities closed major holy sites—including the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Western Wall, and Al-Aqsa Mosque—citing public safety. The Old City’s narrow alleys, they explained, made it impossible for large emergency vehicles to access the area, raising the specter of catastrophe should a missile strike occur during a large religious gathering. According to the police, “The Old City and the holy sites constitute a complex area that does not allow access for large emergency and rescue vehicles, which significantly challenges response capabilities and poses a real risk to human life in the event of a mass casualty incident.”
Yet, the church’s leaders argued that their planned ceremony was not a mass public event. Farid Jubran, spokesperson for the Latin Patriarchate, said, “It’s a very, very sacred day for Christians and in our opinion there was no justification for such a decision or such an action.” The Patriarchate emphasized that they had requested permission for only a handful of senior clergy to enter for a private Mass, far below the 50-person limit set by Israeli military guidelines for gatherings. Since the outbreak of the Iran war in late February, the church had already canceled the public Palm Sunday procession and held only small, restricted services.
With the doors of the Holy Sepulchre locked, Cardinal Pizzaballa instead celebrated Mass at St. Savior’s Monastery, a marble church nearby that doubles as a makeshift shelter during missile alerts. Later in the day, he led a prayer for peace at the Dominus Flevit Shrine on the Mount of Olives, keeping his homily focused on Jesus and steering clear of the morning’s controversy. Meanwhile, in Rome, Pope Leo XIV offered prayers for Middle Eastern Christians enduring what he described as an “atrocious” conflict. “In many cases, they cannot live fully the rites of these holy days,” the Pope told worshippers in St. Peter’s Square.
The decision to bar the church leaders did not go unnoticed by the international community. U.S. Ambassador Mike Huckabee, himself a devout evangelical Christian, called the incident “an unfortunate overreach already having major repercussions around the world.” He pointed out that the planned ceremony was “well below” the 50-person limit and added, “For the Patriarch to be barred from entry to the Church on Palm Sunday for a private ceremony is difficult to understand or justify.”
European leaders were equally vocal. Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni described the move as “an offense not only against believers but against every community that recognizes religious freedom.” Her government summoned Israel’s ambassador in Rome for clarification, while Foreign Minister Antonio Tajani called the ban “unacceptable.” French President Emmanuel Macron also weighed in, condemning what he called “a concerning increase in violations of the status of the Holy Sites in Jerusalem.” Macron insisted, “The free exercise of worship in Jerusalem must be guaranteed for all religions.” The European Union’s top diplomat, Kaja Kallas, and Spain’s Prime Minister Pedro Sanchez echoed these sentiments, warning that religious freedom and Jerusalem’s multi-faith character must be protected.
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu responded to the uproar by stressing that the decision was made solely out of concern for safety, not malice. “There was no malicious intent whatsoever, only concern for his safety and that of his party,” Netanyahu’s office stated. He promised that Israeli security agencies were “putting together a plan to enable church leaders to worship at the holy site in the coming days.”
Inside Jerusalem, the closures affected more than just the Christian community. The Western Wall, the holiest site where Jews can pray, was also mostly closed, with only up to 50 people allowed to gather at a time in a protected area. Muslims, meanwhile, found themselves barred from accessing Al-Aqsa Mosque throughout Ramadan, a move that drew condemnation from several Muslim-majority countries and further inflamed tensions in the already volatile city.
Despite the extraordinary restrictions, smaller churches, synagogues, and mosques in the Old City that are located within a certain distance of military-approved bomb shelters remained open, provided gatherings stayed under the 50-person limit. The patchwork of closures and exceptions, however, could not mask the profound sense of loss felt by many. As the Latin Patriarchate put it, this “grave precedent” disregarded the deep spiritual connection that billions hold with Jerusalem, especially during Holy Week.
The intersection of war, security, and religious freedom in Jerusalem has always been a delicate balancing act. This year’s Palm Sunday underscored just how fragile that balance can be—and how quickly centuries-old traditions can be upended by the realities of conflict. As church leaders, diplomats, and worshippers around the world await Israel’s promised plan to reopen the Holy Sepulchre, the city’s sacred stones stand as a silent witness to the enduring struggle over faith, safety, and coexistence.