"Here is Bethlehem. It is more clean than most Arab towns, but it is still the Arab town."
He doesn't slow down as we curve into a cobbled street and park. "Ruth and Boaz live in Bethlehem, so their great-grandson, David, has to be born and anointed king here. The early Christians want to make Jesus fit the family tradition of the line of David, so he too must come from Bethlehem."
He points toward a church facade. "There is the Church of the Nativity. It is being built in the fourth century by Queen Helen, the mother of Constantine, over the manger where the Christians decide Jesus has to be born."
We crane toward the square, packed tight with tourists. They're dripping with sweat.
"When the Persian troops come to Bethlehem in 614, they burn the churches. But they spare this church of Helen's because they think the mosaics of the Magi is pictures from Persian myths."
He locks the van and nods at a young Arab boy to watch it.
"We don't start early enough today," he says morosely as we reach the square. "It will be two, three hours before these tourists enter the church. So I go ask the favor. The Arab guard here is the friend of mine."
"Isn't breaking into a queue at bit unchristian?" Megan says softly.
"I think here it's traditional," I say.
