By means of Marinella Bandini
Bethlehem, West Bank, December 21, 2024 / 1:00 PM
Being a craftsman in Bethlehem is not just a job. It is an art, almost a calling, a treasure passed from father to son, but now at risk of being lost.
Younger generations are choosing different career paths, and after two years of war, fathers no longer see a future in the artisanal trades for their children. They talk about it quietly, as if they don’t want to admit it. Some know that they are probably the last heirs of a centuries-old tradition.
Jack Giacaman completes an electronic payment at his store on Milk Grotto Street in Bethlehem in December 2024. For more than a year, the only way to sell has been through online purchases or orders from abroad. Credit: Marinella Bandini
“I am 54 years old. My biggest mistake was investing all my money in my family business,” Jack Giacaman, a scion of one of Bethlehem’s most important craftsman families, told CNA. His shop overlooks Milk Grotto Street, the street of the artisans, just a stone’s throw from the shrine of the same name. “I have two daughters. I tried to show them the world from different perspectives, not to destroy their future in this corner of the world.”
“They don’t think about working in our family business,” Giacaman continued. “And the same goes for my cousin’s children: they have moved into the medical field, they are engineers, but they are not thinking about working in this company or staying in this country.”
Most businesses in Bethlehem are family businesses, and they all operate at a loss.
“Families try to cover the losses with their private assets, but that is no longer affordable,” Giacaman explains. “In the end, people run away, they go abroad, and unfortunately among them there are many Christians.”
Milk Grotto Street in Bethlehem, the artisans’ street, in December 2024. This street is lined with many shops and workshops of local artisans, including those of Jack Giacaman and his cousin Bassem Giacaman (in photo). It has been completely empty for over a year. Credit: Marinella Bandini
One of Giacaman’s brothers moved to the US, another went to Dubai. “I grew up in a Catholic school, there were 55 students – six were Muslims, 39 Christians, including eight girls. Who stayed in the country? The Muslim boys, two girls and me. Everyone else moved abroad; their children no longer have any connection with Bethlehem.”
The only one who has taken the opposite route is his cousin Bassem Giacaman, who came from New Zealand a few years ago to run the family business, which is next to Giacaman’s.
In Bassem’s workshop, cobwebs cover two large statues, the wood is eaten by worms and in the shop the lights shine on products that no one comes to buy. Despite everything, he said he wouldn’t go back.
“I came back to take care of the family business,” he explained. ‘I don’t want to sell the workshop because here is our history: that of my father, my grandfather and others before me. Here is our history as Christians of Bethlehem.”
“We’re taking it day by day,” he continued. “We try to sell online, and this is how we make ends meet, but shipping costs keep rising. I’m not looking for donations; I just want to work and create jobs for my employees.”
Bassem Giacaman’s “Olive Wood Factory” workshop in Bethlehem has been closed for over a year. The machines in the workshop stand idle most of the time, the workforce has been halved and the remaining employees typically only work two or three days a week – there is simply not enough work for everyone. Credit: Marinella Bandini
The craftsmen in Bethlehem are almost all Christians. They mainly work with olive wood. The logs stacked in their storage areas and shaped by their hands and in their workshops are transformed into crosses, nativity scenes, Christmas figures and Christmas decorations.
Today, many of these items lie dusty on store shelves, the machines in the workshops stand still most of the time, the workforce has been halved and the remaining employees typically only work two or three days a week – there is simply not enough work. for everyone.
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Those who can are trying to sell online and survive thanks to some orders from abroad, but rising taxes, tariffs and increasingly restrictive laws are complicating everything.
In addition to the Church of the Nativity, Roni Tabash continues to run the family business, one of the best known in the city. Next year will mark 100 years since the store has been selling handmade items made by local artisans. “We provide employment to 25 families, more than a hundred people,” he told CNA.
Roni Tabash stands at the entrance to his shop, just a few meters from the Church of the Nativity. “Last year we hoped that the war would be over after Christmas, but it is still not over. Pilgrims no longer come to Bethlehem. People are having a hard time and aren’t buying. For us, artisans, the situation is very difficult,” he told CNA. Credit: Marinella Bandini
At the threshold of the shop entrance, Tabash looks out at the empty streets around the Church of the Nativity. “Last year we hoped that the war would be over after Christmas, but it is still not over. It gets worse; pilgrims no longer come to Bethlehem. People are having a hard time and aren’t buying. For us artisans, the situation is really difficult,” he said.
His father, Victor, who is 80 years old, was also in the store, having just returned home a few days ago after a long stay in hospital. “As soon as it was possible, he came to the store; it is his life,” Tabash said. “This will be his 61st Christmas in the store. I sometimes say that we don’t have to stay open every day, but he says we have to open, for hope.”
Tabash goes to celebrate Christmas with his family. “As Christians we want to celebrate Christmas because for us Christmas is a light in the night. This is our faith, which is stronger than anything else. But we hope for peace, because our future and that of our children are in danger.”
A row of angels on a workbench in Robert Giacaman’s woodworking workshop in Bethlehem, waiting to be finished, in December 2024. Credit: Marinella Bandini
Under the arcade of Manger Square, the souvenir shops are all shuttered.
“I can still work in my workshop,” Robert Giacaman, a relative of Bassem and Jack, told CNA. “We do get some requests, but not like before. We try to give our employees work. Many can no longer support their families or their children’s education… an entire generation is being lost.”
A worker cuts crosses in Robert Giacaman’s workshop in Bethlehem in December 2024. “We are getting some requests, but not like before. We try to give our employees work. Many can no longer support their families or their children’s education… an entire generation is lost,” Giacaman told CNA. Credit: Marinella Bandini
Robert took CNA through his workshop to explain how a nativity scene is made. “We buy the wood from the Ramallah area because the olive trees are bigger there. After selecting the wood, we rough out the trunk with a saw and cut pieces to the size needed for the figure. We use a pantograph for the coarser work and routers for the details. Then there is the sanding and polishing phase.”
As an all-round artist – he is also a painter and sculptor – Robert brings artistic ideas into his craft. “I always give my employees instructions: how to work, pay attention to the grain of the wood and how to finish the pieces. I try to make them sensitive to this artistic side.”
He is also active in Christian associations, especially the Catholic Boy Scouts of the Holy Land. That is why he experiences the preparation for Christmas with special intensity.
“We want to show Christians around the world that we live Christmas in every situation we find ourselves in,” he said. “The last two years have been quite sad, but in our hearts there is the joy of Christmas. We want to send a message of peace to the world, because peace must begin in the city where Christ was born. I hope Christmas this year brings peace to the whole world.”
Marinella Bandini, born and raised in Italy, has been a professional journalist since 2008. She works for various news agencies and online newspapers in the Catholic world. Currently based in Jerusalem, she works with the Custody of the Holy Land.