"God is the greatest, praise be to God": for the first time in months, these words resonated again on a Friday in Gaza, where thousands of worshippers gathered in mosques, many of which were largely destroyed.

The ceasefire took effect on October 10 at 9:00 a.m. GMT in the Palestinian coastal territory. Being together, "it's an indescribable feeling after two years of deprivation," Ghalib al-Nimra described at the time of the weekly prayer from the Sayed Hashem Mosque. It is one of the oldest in Gaza, miraculously and relatively untouched amid the ruins that the city has become after two years of fighting and bombardment.

"For the first time" since the war triggered by the Hamas attack on October 7, 2023, "there is such a large crowd gathered here," this man is moved, contemplating the hundreds of worshippers.

When the call to prayer sounded shortly before 9:30 GMT, many crowded through the gate, a relic of the Ottoman era.

Men of varying ages prayed together in the building, where even the minbar, the imam's pulpit, seemed intact. Many faces were grave, sometimes hollow.

Of the 1,244 mosques in the Gaza Strip, about 1,160 were completely or partially destroyed, according to an estimate by the Hamas government's press service in the Gaza Strip.

- Pray "scattered" -

Despite sporadic gunfire, calm reigned on Friday, as has not been the case since the last truce between Israel and Hamas in early 2025.

However, several residents told AFP that they were in great spiritual disarray.

"I feel like my soul is being lost amid all this destruction," said Abu Mahmoud Salha, 52, who is originally from the north of the territory and still lives in a makeshift camp for displaced people in al-Mawasi, at the other end of the Gaza Strip.

"We pray in the tent, I miss group prayer and the imam's voice," he continues. "When I hear the call to prayer broadcast over a loudspeaker from recordings, I feel like a part of our lives has been shattered," says the displaced person.

The mosque in his home neighborhood of al-Fallujah was destroyed, and like many, he has been praying in the street for a long time.

This Friday, most residents continued their routines established months ago. Some rolled out their prayer mats in the streets, amidst the rubble, or in mosques with collapsed walls.

Others prostrate themselves at the edge of the tents that dot the territory to shelter the displaced, in still precarious humanitarian conditions.

"Every Friday, we try to gather on a small plot of land, in the open air, to pray. Sometimes we pray on the sand or on pieces of cardboard. It's very difficult psychologically," says Moataz Abou Sharbi, 27.

"The mosque was a pillar of life in our neighborhoods and a precious asset of our religious traditions," adds this displaced person in Deir al-Balah. "Even today, we pray alone or in small, scattered groups."

"Losing both your home and your spiritual refuge is the hardest thing," said Abu Sharbi. "We used to find shelter from our worries in the mosque."

- Rebuild -

"The mosque near my home was our refuge, not only to pray, but also to find serenity (...) When it was destroyed, I felt like a piece of my heart was flying away," recalls Abu Mohammad al-Hattab, 54, from al-Shati camp in Gaza City.

Hundreds of Palestinians also gathered in a destroyed mosque in Khan Younis (south), an AFP photographer noted.

As an imam led prayers over a microphone, the faithful of this overwhelmingly Muslim territory steeped in religiosity gathered in their prayers, despite the gutted walls and exposed timbers.

"We hope everything in Gaza will be rebuilt, including the mosques," said Salim al-Farra, a 22-year-old resident.

With these collective prayers, Gaza is returning, despite the uncertainties about its future, to a daily life interrupted more than two years ago.