In all his 57 years, Samir Ahad has never experienced an Easter so filled with sorrow, hopelessness and dread as this one.
At every turn was a reminder of the war that left lives in shambles and usurped a government that had cosseted the small Christian minority.
On Sunday, parishioners arrived at the Evangelical Protestant Church, where Mr Ahad is the secretary, in cars pockmarked by shrapnel. The absence of the chocolates, coloured eggs and new clothes that usually mark Easter services at the Presbyterian church underscored the fact that the parishioners have no income.
The Italian organ donated by ousted Iraqi President Saddam Hussein sat silent for lack of money to repair it.
On a day meant to celebrate resurrection, many wept through the sermon "This is a sad Easter," said Mr Ahad. "We have suffered, not only from Saddam but from pollution of the air and the water, from having no jobs and no income. And in my mind I keep seeing my son carrying a Kalashnikov to protect the church from looters. I didn't want this for him. We are all afraid, for today and for the future."
Like most Iraqis, Christians are reeling from the double blow of the war and the looting that ensued. Many are also concerned that the new, free Iraq will be dominated by Islamic parties. Some predict they will feel less welcome here and are considering leaving. At the same time, many of the nation's Christian leaders say they are relieved to be rid of the despotic rule of Saddam.
While there is unease among many Iraqi Christians after the fall of Saddam, his demise has brought a freedom to the Muslim Shiite majority.
As Christians celebrated Easter, thousands of Shiite worshippers left Baghdad on foot for the holy city of Karbala in the first pilgrimage allowed on Iraq's main highways for more than a decade. All over Baghdad on Sunday, groups of men, carrying green or black flags, trudged beside the road on the 80-kilometre walk. Thousands more set out from other cities in southern Iraq to meet at the mosque of Imam Hussein, grandson of the prophet Muhammad.
"The last time I did this was in 1989," said Abbas Mohammed al-Garawi. "After that, Saddam forbade people from going so visibly and we had to walk through villages instead."
Saddam wanted people to travel in vans or buses, rather than risk large crowds providing a focus for a possible protest. Women still travel to the site by vehicle, but this year most men appear to be walking in a show of the Shiites' new-found political strength and a mark of religious devotion.
During Saddam's 24-year reign, a symbiotic relationship existed between the government, which was dominated by Sunni Muslims, and Iraq's Christian minority of less than 1 million out of 25 million Iraqis.
Christians held prominent positions in the government, including the Deputy Prime Minister, Tariq Aziz.
Many Iraqi churches had a benefactor in the government which gave land on which to build churches, and sometimes paid for the construction. Their water and electricity were free.
Religious leaders say government-controlled newspapers were prohibited from publishing anything derogatory about Christians.
In return, Saddam counted on their acquiescence, if not outright support.
"Saddam loved Christians," said Ikram Mehanni, the minister of the Evangelical Protestant Church. "He didn't abuse our religion... he gave us money."
Asked why Saddam was so generous, Mr Mehanni replied, "Christians didn't give problems to the government."
Now that is all over and many are worried. Leaving Easter services at Our Lady of Rescue, a Syrian Catholic church, Wisal Kotta said: "Christians are afraid of the new government and what it will do with us."
The concern is not limited to Christians. A tiny number of Iraqi Jews live in Baghdad, which had about 60,000 Jews before the creation of Israel in 1948. A Muslim watchman at the city's only functioning synagogue said services stopped about two months ago and the Jews who lived in the area either fled to other parts of the city before the war or went abroad.To a degree, the concern is as much about the perils of the present, as about dread of the future. "Of course we are sad," said Jusef Waad, an engineer attending the Syrian church.
"We have no security. We have no electricity or water. We have no jobs. Everything is gone. There is no Easter this year. This smile on my face is false. It is only there so I can carry on with life and do my religious duty."
At a nearby Armenian Catholic church, Vicar Antoine Atamian said Saddam was a dictator, "but he respected us as religious men".
Mr Atamian said he did not fear that Christians would be ostracised by Muslims.
"We don't have any problems between Christians and Muslims," he said. "Everyone knows that in every country, Christians are loyal citizens."
But at the Evangelical Protestant Church, a widowed parishioner said he was preparing to leave Iraq. "It's going to be like Iran," warned the parishioner. "Even Christians will have to wear head scarves. There will be no alcohol. No dancing. All Christians are afraid now."