A Celebration of Truth in the City of Peace

For 27 unforgettable months—from July 2019 to September 2021—my wife and I called Jerusalem home. Eight months before COVID-19 changed the world, and the rest during it. To live in Jerusalem during that extraordinary period was to be immersed in the complexity, resilience, and profound beauty of one of the most remarkable cities on earth.

Each year, Jerusalem Day (Yom Yerushalayim) is celebrated on the 28th of Iyar in the Hebrew calendar—this year falling on 27 May 2025. It marks the reunification of the city in 1967, when Israeli forces gained control of East Jerusalem and, for the first time in millennia, ensured full access to the Old City for people of all faiths. While much of the world obsesses over narratives of division, those of us who have lived in Jerusalem know it is, in fact, a model of religious coexistence—however imperfect—unequalled in the region.

One of the most powerful realities that struck me during my time in Israel was the freedom of worship in Jerusalem. Unlike Mecca and Medina—Islam’s two holiest cities—where non-Muslims are strictly forbidden to enter, Jerusalem welcomes Christians, Muslims, Jews, Baháʼís, and many others. The city is administered by the State of Israel, and under Israeli governance, adherents of all three Abrahamic faiths are free to practise their religion openly and without fear. The status quo on holy sites is maintained with great care. Churches operate freely. The Muslim Waqf manages the Al-Aqsa Mosque. And the Jewish people, after centuries of exile, can again return to the Western Wall.

It goes further. Israel also protects the rights of minorities often forgotten elsewhere in the Middle East: the Baháʼí—whose global centre is in Haifa—and the Circassians, Sunni Muslims originally from the Caucasus, who live peacefully as Israeli citizens with full rights. In a region too often torn apart by sectarianism, Jerusalem under Israeli governance stands as a living rebuke to those who claim religious harmony is impossible.
And yet, the world does not see it that way.

When I lived in Jerusalem, I became increasingly aware of what can only be described as confected outrage directed at the city from afar. I recall reading with incredulity an Australian news article decrying the supposed horrors unfolding in Sheikh Jarrah—a suburb in East Jerusalem. That very night, I had been in the area, farewelling a dear colleague: a remarkable Armenian woman from Jordan who had worked alongside me in a sensitive and high-stakes international mission. The quiet civility of that evening bore no resemblance to the sensationalised accounts peddled by so-called correspondents, many of whom rarely ventured beyond the confines of their ideological echo chambers at the American Colony Hotel.