For 60 years, as long as the state of Israel has been in existence, the Comboni Sisters have been in Bethany, serving their neighbourhood. Now their community life is dominated by the Israelis' security fence. While it has curbed bombings, it is also strangling the life out of many communities
It should be on the Christian pilgrimage trail, given it is but a 10-minute drive from Jerusalem. But these days few make their way to the tomb of Lazarus in Bethany and the small church built over the place where many believe Jesus raised the brother of Martha and Mary from the dead. For not only is Bethany a Palestinian village and therefore off limits to all but the most determined visitor from Jerusalem, but for the last six months it has been cut off from Jerusalem by a new section of the security wall being built by the Israeli Government.
The nearest point of entry into Bethany from the city is via an army checkpoint located in a gap in the 20ft high solid concrete wall. Young armed soldiers ask visitors to explain why they want to enter. They check passports and bags before allowing them to walk through a metal gate then along a narrow path bordered by steel barriers. Although the soldiers are polite, they are carrying automatic weapons and the looming wall and steel barriers together create a threatening atmosphere.
At least four religious orders have houses in the shadow of the wall here. The Convent of the Comboni Sisters, an Italian order that has been in the area for 60 years, straddles both Israeli and Palestinian territory: their house and the land in front of it is Israeli-controlled while the land at the back of the house is in Palestinian Bethany.
One morning last year the sisters woke up to find workmen chopping down trees in their garden alongside the convent's perimeter wall. Soldiers explained that "for their own security" they were going to fix high sections of concrete along the entire length of the boundary wall completely surrounding their house. It was the first the sisters had learned of the plan, and they were horrified.
The sisters run a retreat centre as well as a nursery for local Palestinian children. Their first thought was that parents would have to bring children to nursery each day through a checkpoint.
Sister Gianfranca Silvestri, their superior, persuaded the authorities to begin the wall only at the point where the Palestinian territory actually begins. The matter will be finally decided in court, but Sr Gianfranca says she has received assurances verbally from the Israelis that the wall will not be extended, and she believes them.
The workmen dug foundations for the wall on the sisters' property seven metres deep destroying a long section of flower beds. The wall now circles three sides of the property. It casts a deep shadow over the nursery and its adjoining children's playground.
The area has been heavily militarised by the Israelis for years because of their fears that Palestinian terrorists will use it as a route for launching suicide attacks on Jerusalem. They have kept a particularly careful watch on the Comboni convent because of its position and there is even a sentry post in the garden. The soldiers pass through the grounds freely day and night.
None of this seems to faze Sr Gianfranca who smiles at the mention of the soldiers and says they are polite and respectful. Recent developments with the wall have been a terrible worry but she says little that lets this show. Aged 70, she was born in Verona and was previously a missionary in Africa and Jordan.
Petite and unassuming, her manner is diplomatic. She says that, when dealing with her, the Israeli authorities behave like a host would towards his guests. The new section of wall, they told her, is a grim necessity.
"They say, ‘We have to do it. It is for your own security. The big men are in Tel Aviv and they make the decisions. We have our orders so even if you complain it is no good.'"
The eight sisters look after 54 Palestinian children at their nursery: only two are Christian and the rest are Muslim.
"Some of the children are from very poor families. We are able to provide free places for these. Others can pay a little. The nursery is a way of keeping in touch with the families. It gives us a reason to meet with them and talk," said Sr Gianfranca.
She says life has become tough for many Palestinian families. Many used to work in Jerusalem but a permit is needed to pass through the checkpoint, and these are nearly impossible to get. On the Israeli side many taxi drivers are not prepared to drive up to the checkpoint and prefer to drop off and pick up at a point some 20 minutes' walk away.
But more than anything the sisters are concerned about the effect the militarisation of the area is having on children and young people who leave school, cannot get work and find themselves sitting at home all day. The nursery children often include the security wall in their drawings. Sr Gianfranca is concerned that they are given gifts of toy guns and pistols by their parents, who often talk about revenge.
"The real heart of the matter is the consequences of the presence of the wall. People have become so resentful and they feel hate. Both Israelis and Palestinians live in fear."
It is still possible to drive close to the convent from Jerusalem and to avoid the wall by taking a 14km detour on a ring road. One three-year-old boy who goes to the nursery has recently separated parents - one parent on each side of the wall.
Sr Gianfranca explained that when the father comes to collect his child from the Jerusalem side he usually phones the convent and a teacher accompanies the boy to the checkpoint. Two weeks ago the teacher was not allowed to hand the boy over and the father had to drive the long way round.
In another recent incident a Muslim woman in Bethany had gone into labour and arrived at the checkpoint to go to hospital but was not allowed to pass. "I went out and pleaded with the soldiers but they were determined. Luckily her husband had a car to go the 14 kilometres around to the other side."
On the evening of my visit the sisters were preparing to welcome a party of 50 to their retreat centre, their first guests for two months. The wall, they say, has all but destroyed Bethany as a place of pilgrimage.
In 2004, it was estimated that Bethany had around 2,000 Palestinian Christian residents. Accurate figures today are hard to come by but it is clear that the numbers have fallen drastically with many joining relatives abroad. Two blocks of flats built by the Franciscans for Christian families lie uninhabited and, according to Sr Gianfranca, there are only about 35 regulars at Sunday Mass at the Church of St Lazarus.
There is a Muslim cemetery behind the Comboni convent and a mosque next door to St Lazarus' Church. All around are the ruins of Christian buildings, clearly discernible as such by crosses and other emblems on the stonework.
It is terribly quiet until a loudspeaker blares out the Muslim call to prayer. Even the Arab name for the village, al-Azariyya, recalls the name of Lazarus - and yet the Christian presence at the scene of one of the great gospel stories is disappearing.