Palestinian Christian leaders are sharply criticizing U.S.-based Christian Zionist groups, saying their theology—rooted in the belief that Israel belongs to Jewish people—has become a political engine that sidelines the lived experience of Christians living under occupation and recurring violence. In remarks highlighted in coverage of the issue, senior church figures described how visiting Palestinians, witnessing daily realities, and meeting families struggling to remain on their land can fundamentally alter the perspective of visiting foreign clergy and lay supporters.
Father Munther Isaac, director of the Bethlehem Institute for Peace and Justice, told CNN that the transformation often begins during on-the-ground encounters. He described how pastors and lay Christians who travel to Palestine tend to “see the walls” and “see the settlements,” and then speak with families “just to survive in their land.” According to Isaac, it is after those encounters that their “eyes are opened,” underscoring the gap he says exists between theology discussed abroad and conditions experienced by Palestinian Christians at home. (The statement appears in reporting referenced by The Jerusalem Post.)
For Father Isaac, the problem is not simply disagreement over political outcomes, but what he frames as a form of invisibility: the way Christian Zionist narratives are said to overshadow the suffering of Christian communities in Jerusalem and elsewhere. He argued that sustaining a singular argument about Israel’s belonging to the Jewish people can render the stories of local Christians less visible, even when those stories point to threats to their survival.
Isaac further warned that theology has moved beyond belief and into action. “Theology has been weaponized,” he said, presenting Christian Zionists as actors who, in his view, finance and back what he called the “major threat” to Christian existence in the region. His remarks connect doctrine and material support, emphasizing that religious messaging can translate into funding and political backing that affects the safety and future of Palestinian Christians on the ground.
That critique is echoed in descriptions of specific community fears. Another prominent figure, Father Bashar Fawadleh of Taybeh—described in the reporting as being the last fully Christian town in the West Bank—warned that congregants are afraid to work their land. Taybeh’s Christian population, the coverage notes, is steadily dwindling, and the community’s anxieties are tied to Israeli settler violence in the area.
In comments cited from CNN, Fawadleh said his parishioners hesitate to harvest their olive groves because of intimidation and violence attributed to Israeli settlers. The fear is not abstract; it is tied to the ability to cultivate farmland and to maintain a livelihood. One parishioner, speaking through the reporting, said that if given the chance he would leave rather than stay in the town, adding that he sees “no future” for himself or his children. (These details are also drawn from reporting referenced by The Jerusalem Post.)
The criticism of U.S. Christian Zionists also involves an assertion about resource flow into the West Bank. The coverage referenced in the discussion states that Christian Zionism funds “80 Israeli communities” in the West Bank—an element used by the leaders to argue that external religious backing has tangible effects. By linking doctrine to budgets and settlement support, the leaders present Christian Zionism not merely as a theological position, but as an influence channel with consequences for Christians’ safety and permanence.
In addition to the issue of settlement-related fears, the leaders’ comments are situated within a broader atmosphere of hostility toward Christian identity in Jerusalem. A separate report described incidents of anti-Christian harassment, including spitting attacks near the Armenian church and claims by perpetrators that humiliating Christians was a religious duty. That account, describing events tied to a national celebration marking the 1967 capture of East Jerusalem, framed such acts as signals of rising anti-Christian hate. The Wall Street Journal reported that there were at least a dozen spitting incidents near the Armenian church on one occasion, according to security-camera footage and witnesses.
Taken together, the Palestinian leaders’ critique and the broader reporting about incidents of anti-Christian behavior paint a picture of vulnerability on multiple fronts: physical intimidation linked to settlement violence, uncertainty about whether communities can remain, and episodes of religiously framed humiliation. While the motives and contexts differ, the underlying theme—Christians perceiving themselves as endangered or marginalized—appears common across accounts.
Beyond the Middle East, observers sometimes point out that global Christian communities can differ sharply in how faith translates into public life and political engagement. Yet in the case of Palestinian Christian leaders confronting Christian Zionism, the debate centers on whether the faith-driven involvement of outsiders respects local realities or, instead, amplifies narratives that leaders say erase their struggle. Father Isaac’s insistence that visiting clergy and lay people often experience a “before and after” after seeing walls and settlements suggests that many supporters may not grasp the conditions faced by Palestinian Christians until they witness them directly.
In this reporting, the leaders’ central accusation is that Christian Zionists render their experiences invisible while funding and supporting structures that, in their view, threaten their existence. Their message is not simply theological disagreement; it is a call for recognition and accountability, emphasizing that Christian support—when channeled into politics and settlements—can shape whether churches, towns, and families believe they have a durable future.
As the debate continues, the leaders’ testimonies place Palestinian Christian communities at the center of the discussion. Their accounts describe fear of harvesting olive groves, declining populations, and families debating whether to stay. They also warn that “theology,” when leveraged for political aims, can become a weapon—one that not only changes policy but also determines whose suffering is heard and whose is sidelined.
Ultimately, the dispute over Christian Zionism reflects a larger struggle over interpretation: whether the region’s Christian reality is best understood through a theology of ownership and destiny or through the testimony of people living amid walls, settlements, and daily uncertainty. For Father Isaac, Father Fawadleh, and those quoted from Taybeh and Jerusalem, the question is less about which scriptures are cited than about what is done with them—and what that doing costs the people who are asked to stay.
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