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Many Names for a Small Place
The strip of land at the eastern edge of the Mediterranean has carried many names, each tied to particular religious and cultural meanings. For Jews, it has long been called Eretz Yisrael, the Land of Israel, a term rooted in the Hebrew Bible and rabbinic tradition. For Christians, it became known as the Holy Land, the place where Jesus lived, preached, died, and, according to Christian belief, rose from the dead. For Muslims, it is part of Bilad al-Sham, greater Syria, and also a land connected to key moments in early Islamic history. The name “Palestine,” used in various forms by Greeks, Romans, and later European and Ottoman authorities, gradually became a common geographic label and, by the modern period, began to carry a cultural and then political meaning for many of its Arab inhabitants.
These overlapping names are not just labels. They reflect different ways of seeing the same territory: as a promised land, a land of prophecy, a sacred landscape, a province of empires, and eventually a potential nation-state. Understanding these layers of meaning helps explain why the conflict that would later emerge is not only about borders, but also about sacred histories and identities tied to the land itself.
Jewish Religious Connections to the Land
In Jewish tradition, the land occupies a central place in scripture, law, and ritual. The Hebrew Bible describes it as the land promised by God to the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Many of the core narratives of the Torah and later books (exodus, conquest, kingship, destruction, and exile) are bound to specific cities and regions: Hebron, Bethlehem, Jerusalem, Samaria, Galilee, and others. The land is not just a backdrop; it is part of the covenantal relationship between God and Israel. Obedience to divine commandments is linked to flourishing in the land; disobedience is associated with exile.
After the destruction of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem, and the dispersal of many Jews, longing for return took on a religious dimension. Daily and festival prayers in Jewish liturgy include petitions for the return to Zion and the rebuilding of Jerusalem. Blessings and rituals assume the centrality of the land: agricultural commandments tied to its soil, pilgrimage festivals that recall journeys to the Temple, and fast days commemorating its loss. Even when Jews lived far away, they oriented prayer toward Jerusalem and often buried loved ones facing that direction.
Pilgrimage to the land never completely ceased. Over the centuries, small numbers of Jews moved to or visited cities such as Jerusalem, Safed, Hebron, and Tiberias, which acquired their own sacred reputations. These communities were often small and subject to the authority of whatever empire ruled the region, but their presence reinforced an ongoing religious connection. By the time modern Jewish nationalism emerged, the idea of a “return” to the land was already deeply embedded in religious language and communal memory.
Christian Holy Land and Sacred Geography
For Christians, the land’s significance stems above all from its association with the life of Jesus and the early church. The Gospels and other New Testament writings describe events in specific localities: Nazareth as Jesus’ hometown, the Sea of Galilee as the setting for many teachings and miracles, Jerusalem as the place of crucifixion and resurrection. Over time, these locations were mapped, venerated, and turned into sites of worship. Churches were built over or near places believed to be especially holy, such as the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem and the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.
This created what historians sometimes call “sacred geography.” For many Christians, visiting the Holy Land meant walking where Jesus walked and physically encountering the places of biblical stories. Pilgrimage began in the early centuries of Christianity and continued under Byzantine, Islamic, Crusader, and Ottoman rule, though the scale and freedom of movement varied. Guidebooks, travel narratives, and religious art spread images of Palestine as a landscape of salvation history across Europe and beyond.
Different Christian traditions interpreted the land in varying ways. For Eastern Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Oriental churches, local monasteries, shrines, and ancient communities were tangible links to the early church. For many later Protestant groups, especially in modern times, the land also became a stage for understanding biblical prophecy, sometimes connecting contemporary events there with interpretations of the end times. These religious meanings helped shape Western political interest in the region, long before modern diplomatic involvement.
Islamic Sanctity and the Place of Jerusalem
In Islam, the region’s religious importance is anchored above all in Jerusalem, known as al-Quds, “the Holy.” Islamic tradition associates the city with the Prophet Muhammad’s Night Journey, described in the Qur’an and elaborated in later accounts. According to these traditions, Muhammad traveled miraculously from the “Sacred Mosque” in Mecca to the “Farthest Mosque” (al-masjid al-aqsa) and ascended to heaven from there. Jerusalem thus became the site of al-Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock, two of the most important sanctuaries in Islam.
In the earliest period of Islam, Muslims initially prayed facing Jerusalem before the direction of prayer, or qibla, was changed to Mecca. This episode, remembered in Islamic sources, reinforced the idea that Jerusalem has a special but distinct status within the broader sacred landscape. Over time, it came to be widely regarded as the third holiest city in Islam, after Mecca and Medina. Scholars, mystics, and pilgrims visited and wrote about its merits, and rulers invested in building and restoring its religious monuments.
Beyond Jerusalem, the broader region of Bilad al-Sham, including what is now Israel and Palestine, also carried religious weight. Early Muslim conquests, battles, and administrative centers in the area were woven into Islamic historical memory. Stories about the virtues of al-Sham, collected in devotional literature, praised its climate, its role in the end times, and its status as a land blessed by God. These traditions created a religious framework in which local Muslim populations and later Islamic authorities saw the land not merely as a province but as a spiritually significant territory.
Shared Sites and Competing Sacred Claims
One striking feature of the region is the concentration of religious sites revered by more than one faith. The area called the Temple Mount by Jews and the Noble Sanctuary (al-Haram al-Sharif) by Muslims is sacred in both Judaism and Islam. Jews revere it as the location of the First and Second Temples and the symbolic dwelling place of the divine presence; today, the Western Wall is the most visible remnant of the structures that once stood there. Muslims venerate the same plateau as the site of al-Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock, connected with Muhammad’s Night Journey and ascension.
Jerusalem as a whole is thus layered with overlapping sacred meanings. For Christians, its churches and Via Dolorosa recall the Passion of Christ; for Jews, its walls and gates evoke biblical kings and prophets; for Muslims, its mosques and esplanades connect heaven and earth. Other towns and regions show similar patterns: Hebron is associated with the patriarchs and matriarchs in Jewish and Islamic tradition; Bethlehem is sacred to Christians and significant in other faith narratives; various springs, caves, and hills carry multiple religious stories.
These shared spaces have at times supported coexistence, with different communities conducting rituals side by side or at different times, and local arrangements negotiating access. At other moments, competing sacred claims have been linked to political and military struggles, especially when one group sought to assert exclusive control over a site. Because physical control of a shrine or a holy city can be seen as validating a religious narrative, disputes over stones, walls, and pathways have often carried symbolic weight out of proportion to their size.
Cultural Life under Imperial Rule
Before the emergence of modern nationalism, daily cultural life in the region was shaped less by national categories and more by religion, language, and local customs within larger empires. Under Ottoman rule, the population included Sunni Muslims, various Christian communities (Greek Orthodox, Armenian, Syriac, Latin Catholic, among others), Jews of both long-established and more recent origin, and smaller religious minorities. These groups were organized into recognized religious communities with a degree of internal autonomy, especially over personal status matters like marriage and inheritance.
Urban centers such as Jerusalem, Nablus, Acre, Jaffa, and Gaza functioned as hubs of trade, learning, and religious devotion. Markets, bathhouses, lodgings for pilgrims, and religious schools created spaces of interaction among different communities. People spoke a variety of languages: Arabic as the main local vernacular; Ottoman Turkish in administration; Hebrew and Aramaic in Jewish religious life; Armenian, Greek, and others in particular communities; and European languages among visiting pilgrims and consuls.
Cultural practices often reflected religious calendars. Muslim festivals such as Ramadan and Eid, Christian feasts tied to the liturgical year, and Jewish holidays each brought their own rhythms of fasting, celebration, and communal gathering. Yet there were also shared customs, especially in rural areas and mixed cities: similar styles of dress, food, music, and storytelling traditions that crossed religious boundaries. Oral poetry, folk tales, and local legends frequently blended biblical, Qur’anic, and popular motifs, embedding sacred stories into everyday culture.
Pilgrimage, Travel, and Global Imaginations
Because of its religious significance, the land attracted visitors from across Europe, Asia, and Africa long before mass tourism existed. Pilgrimage routes knit the region into broader religious worlds: Christian pilgrims from Europe and beyond, Muslim pilgrims from North Africa and the wider Middle East, Jewish travelers from various parts of the diaspora. Travel accounts, devotional texts, and illustrated maps spread images of the land to people who would never see it in person.
For many, these texts and images created an imagined landscape more symbolic than realistic. European Christian depictions, for example, sometimes portrayed biblical scenes set in environments that looked more like rural Europe than the actual Middle East. Nonetheless, they reinforced the idea that events of eternal significance were tied to particular hills, rivers, and towns. Similarly, in Jewish communities from Eastern Europe to North Africa, stories and liturgy about Zion and Jerusalem formed a mental map of the land that might not match local conditions but sustained an emotional and spiritual bond.
These global imaginations meant that decisions about the region could resonate far beyond its borders. A church built or destroyed, a shrine renovated or neglected, or a change in control over a holy city could be interpreted in distant capitals in religious as well as political terms. The land’s symbolic role in faraway religious communities prepared the ground for intense outside interest once modern diplomacy began to focus more heavily on the area.
Sacred Time, Memory, and the Land
Religious significance was not only about places but also about how time and memory were organized around them. Jewish fasts commemorating the destruction of the Temples tied historical disasters to specific dates and specific locations in Jerusalem, reinforcing a sense of loss and hope for restoration. Christian Holy Week rituals often reenacted the final days of Jesus in the streets of Jerusalem or in churches modeled after its holy sites. Islamic traditions about the Night Journey and other events were remembered in sermons, religious lessons, and local celebrations that kept Jerusalem and the surrounding region in mind.
These cycles of commemoration kept the land present even for believers living far away. They also contributed to a sense that the region was not just another province but a theater of sacred history, where past, present, and future were linked. As later political movements arose, they would draw on this reservoir of religious memory, sometimes adapting old images and stories to new goals, sometimes challenging older interpretations. The deep religious and cultural significance that had accumulated over centuries thus formed an important backdrop for the modern conflict, giving it a charged symbolic dimension that goes beyond immediate political disputes.