Just west of Jerusalem, where the city’s noise fades into pine-covered hills, Motza feels less like a neighborhood on the edge of Jerusalem and more like a well-kept secret.
Technically, it isn’t part of the capital – it is its own village but falls under the Jerusalem Municipality. This is where Jerusalemites go to escape the city without actually leaving it, where the air smells fresh and the only traffic jams are caused by the occasional animal crossing the road.
Located near the archaeological site of Tel Motza, at a height averaging 600 meters above sea level, this area is historically significant, as it marks the site of the biblical village of Mozah mentioned in the Book of Joshua.
Tel Motza has long been identified as the location of the ancient Canaanite and later Israelite settlement of Mozah. According to the Hebrew Bible, the city was one of 26 given to the tribe of Benjamin by Joshua (Joshua 18:26), cementing its significance as a key site in ancient Jewish history. Archaeological findings at Tell en-Nasbeh, an excavation site connected with the biblical Mizpah, have uncovered pottery bearing the name Mozah, linking it to the ancient city.
Artifacts from various historical periods have been discovered at Tel Motza, such as shards from the Late Bronze Age, Iron Age II, the Persian/Hellenistic era, and the Early Islamic period. In total, about 58% of the findings date back to Iron Age II (1000-586 BCE, the destruction of the First Temple in Jerusalem), while the others reflect a rich diversity of historical periods, shedding light on the region’s long and varied past. Notably, in 2012 Israeli archaeologists uncovered an Israelite cultic structure at the archaeological site, dating to the Iron Age IIA (10th BCE), which provides valuable insight into the religious practices of the time.
During the Second Temple period, Motza was known for its abundant willow trees that grew along the nearby brook. These trees played a special role in Jewish religious practices, particularly during the festival of Sukkot. People would cut willow branches from the area and bring them to the Temple in Jerusalem as part of the ceremonial rituals for the holiday. This tradition is mentioned in the Talmud and the Mishna, highlighting Motza’s importance in the observance of the fall season holiday.
What is modern Motza like?
THE STORY of modern Motza echoes the resilience of the early settlers of the Old Yishuv. Founded in 1854 as one of the first Jewish farming communities outside Jerusalem’s Old City walls, it nearly vanished after the 1929 riots when Arab attackers murdered six members of the Maklef family in their home. For a year, the houses stood empty. Then, slowly, people returned – first to Lower Motza, then in the 1930s to the newly established Upper Motza on the hills above.
Walking through the neighborhood today, you can still trace these layers of history. The oldest houses, built from Jerusalem stone, now sit alongside modern villas with floor-to-ceiling windows designed to frame views of the surrounding valleys. The original tile factory, founded in the 1880s and nicknamed “The Red House,” has been converted into luxury apartments, though its stone walls still hint at its industrial past.
Today, roughly 1,200 residents call Motza home – a mix of multi-generational families and a growing wave of young professionals drawn by the promise of space and quiet. Demographically, it’s a study in contrasts: secular tech workers from Tel Aviv rub shoulders with Modern Orthodox families, while a handful of aging pioneers still tend to the olive trees their grandparents planted.
According to municipal data, the average household in Motza earns well above the Jerusalem median, though you’d never guess it from the unfussy vibe of the local grocery, where CEOs and artists alike line up for fresh bread.
Most residents commute to Jerusalem for work – a 15-minute drive to the city center when traffic cooperates, or a slightly unpredictable 25-minute bus ride on the 194 line, the neighborhood’s sole public transit link. (The absence of a light rail connection is a perennial gripe.) Yet Motza’s remove from the city seems to be precisely its appeal.
NEW CONSTRUCTION has subtly shifted the dynamics. A cluster of mid-rise apartments near the Motza Interchange – built in the 2010s – introduced smaller units that attracted younger buyers, though prices remain steep (a three-bedroom starts at $1.2 million). Still, the neighborhood resists density: Zoning laws cap buildings at four stories, and a recent proposal for a 100-unit complex was blocked by residents who feared it would “turn Motza into Beit Shemesh.” For now, the balance holds – a quiet enclave where the hum of the city feels far enough to ignore, but not too far to reach.
The rhythm of life here follows the sun rather than the clock. Mornings begin with the aroma of coffee and the sound of birds chirping. Afternoons are for hiking in the Jerusalem Forest or exploring the ruins of the Roman road that once connected this valley to the city. Evenings often end with neighbors gathering at the one small grocery store that doubles as a social hub.
Not that Motza is stuck in the past. The recent arrival of younger residents has brought new energy – and new tensions. When a developer proposed turning an old factory into a boutique hotel, longtime residents protested that it would ruin the area’s quiet charm. The compromise? A scaled-down version with strict noise limits – a solution that didn’t satisfy anyone completely but kept the peace.
What hasn’t changed is Motza’s ability to surprise. Just when you think you’ve discovered all its secrets, you stumble upon something new – like the natural spring hidden behind the 19th-century synagogue, where cold, clear water still bubbles up from the ground as it has for centuries. Or the fact that this neighborhood was once home to a thriving tile industry whose products paved the streets of early Tel Aviv.
As the sun sets over the valley, it’s easy to understand why people who live here rarely leave, and why those who discover it always want to stay.