He's seen it all before. Mr Tofik Canavati is 76 years old and makes his living as a guide and seller of souvenirs in Bethlehem. The family name is Italian but he has lived in Bethlehem since 1935. There is, as always, an Irish connection if you look for it: Tofik's son married a woman from Dungiven, Co Derry.
He approached me as I alighted from my taxi at the holy shrine. Never have I felt so prized and appreciated in the role of foreign visitor. But then I was a pretty rare commodity: official sources say 60 to 70 per cent of pilgrims have cancelled their bookings since violence broke out three weeks ago. A sign at the nearby Nativity Hotel said simply "The Hotel is Closed", and the souvenir trade was quiet at the Holy Manger Store on the village's main street.
For a brief period my guide transported me from the concerns of the present, down the corridors of history, to a simpler and more devout time. Here was the mosaic floor built in the Lord's honour by St Helena in the 4th century AD, there the wooden roof donated in 1480 by England's King Edward IV, and lamps and icons donated by Tsar Alexander of Russia two centuries ago.
At last we arrive at the spot where Christ was born. "The most holy place in the world," Tofik told me, as he knelt to kiss the marble which covers the sacred rock. The manger is nearby, not the original he points out: the old manger is in Rome, taken there during the Crusades. And here is the altar where the gold, frankincense and myrrh were given to Our Lord by the Three Wise Men.
Whether because of his work or his own deep convictions, Tofik takes the long view of history. "Soon we will have peace between the Arabs and the Jews. Nothing is difficult when people have good hearts."
It was not easy to share his optimism. As we walked from the shrine, a Palestinian boy passed wielding a catapult, normally a harmless sight, but one wondered if he would consider it an appropriate weapon for use against the Israeli soldiers down the road where a sea of stones gave evidence of recent strife.
The next village to Bethlehem is Beit Jala, which has literally been in the wars this week. Sniper fire directed from here by Palestinians at the neighbouring Jewish settlement of Gilo was answered by shells and machinegun bullets from Israeli tanks. Neither side was turning the other cheek: this was a case of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.
Their critics say the Israelis have used a sledgehammer to crack a nut. Palestinians throw stones, they respond with bullets; Palestinians fire rifles, they respond with tanks. The world's television screens are awash with pictures of youngsters killed or wounded in the confrontations.
However, spokesmen for the Israeli Defence Forces were unapologetic. Gilo was a residential area. "If somebody was shooting into Dublin, what would you do?" CNN camera crews are asked: "If somebody was shooting from [the suburb of] Chevy Chase into Washingtion DC, what would the Americans do?"
As for shooting stone-throwers: "A stone can kill as well." During the last Intifada (uprising) the soldiers had orders to fire when they saw a Palestinian holding a Molotov cocktail. The Palestinians were not throwing pebbles but "really big, quite large-sized stones".
Let other states use water-cannon or tear gas, the spokesmen said. Israel wanted to send a strong message: "Today you are throwing stones, maybe tomorrow you will try and overrun us. We are not going to let that happen."
Thoughtful people on both sides of the divide have wondered why the Palestinians do not sit down on the streets and roads in their thousands, which seems both a safer and more effective tactic, but clear strategic thinking is at a premium here these days. A Palestinian intellectual I spoke to expressed considerable anxiety that, unlike the last Intifada in 1987-1993, there was "nobody in the driving seat" this time.