While Pope John Paul II yesterday called on Palestinians and Israelis to end their "vendetta", the Vatican denied it was involved in trying to end the stand-off in the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, regarded as the birthplace of Jesus.
Some 150 Palestinian civilians, including the local governor and the head of security, 40 priests and 40 policemen have been holed up in the church, a traditional place of refuge, for six days. While Israel claims civilians are being held "hostage" by "gunmen", Palestinians inside the church say they are afraid to come out because they are surrounded by heavily-armed Israeli troops and tanks.
On Saturday afternoon a dozen peace activists and an ambulance laden with food attempted to deliver supplies and evacuate wounded. Among the volunteers was Ms Mary Kelly, an Irish nurse from west Cork, and Mr John McSweeney, an Irish university student now living in Britain. Ms Kelly, carrying a placard calling upon Israel to observe the Geneva Convention which requires that wounded be "collected and cared for", walked on one side of the ambulance, Mr McSweeney on the other.
The two came to Bethlehem over the Easter to serve as volunteers with the International Solidarity Movement. At least three dozen journalists walked the 3 km journey behind the little convoy through the eerily empty streets of the sprawling hill town. Bursts of heavy machine-gun fire, the crump of explosions and the roar of the engines of armoured vehicles intruded on the silence of the town.
Roads are scarred and torn by tank tracks; lamp posts knocked to the ground. Water from broken mains flowed down the streets. Occasionally a Palestinian woman or child opened a shutter, peered out and waved, revealing that Bethlehem is not a ghost town. As we passed the intersection before the turning to the church, explosions erupted ahead of us. An armoured bulldozer and a couple of scout cars approached from a side road.
The journalists sheltered against a wall while ambulance staff and volunteers raised their arms and continued to walk down the centre of the street.
A warning shot was fired, the ambulance halted, and the volunteers stood their ground. The bulldozer moved into the road behind us, blocking our exit, then withdrew into a nearby garage, engine running. An Israeli soldier shouted something in Hebrew from a doorway. We waited. A stout activist in a T-shirt walked forward alone and spoke with the soldiers. "They said they will ring their commander. Wait," he said. The answer was, "no".
