The atmosphere in Bethlehem where Jesus Christ was born is heavy with absence following weeks of Israeli bombardment of Gaza and Security operations across Palestinian Territories.
Christmas celebrations have been cancelled this year and the thousands of tourists and pilgrims who would normally fill Manger Square are nowhere to be found.
The famous Christmas tree, usually in the middle of the square, is not there. There are no carols or Christmas market stands.
Instead, a nativity scene, which shows a newborn Jesus surrounded by big rocks and barbed wire, has been installed as a tribute to the children of Gaza.
In an unusually empty Nativity Church, Father Eissa Thaldjiya tells me his city feels like a shadow of itself.
Jawdat Mikhael lives in Bethlehem, but his family is trapped in Northern Gaza. His parents, brother and dozens of other relatives have been sheltering in the Holy Family Church near Shejaiya in the east of Gaza City – an area devastated by Israeli bombardment.
As Jawdat and I are talking, a call from his father Han’na Mikhael comes through.
The line is crackly and connection is unstable – yet he hangs on for a glimpse of his dad.
He wells up as he says that communications are down and that there is no water. Food is scarce, too – “enough to keep you alive – not to fill your stomach,” he says.
Han’na cries as he tells me about how different Christmas was last year.
The family has already suffered a terrible loss.
A week ago, Jawdat’s grandmother, Naheda Khalil Anton – who was also sheltering in the church in Gaza – was shot twice in the stomach as she was on her way to the bathroom. His aunt Samar Kamal Anton rushed to help her and was shot in the head.
Jawdat shows me pictures of the immediate aftermath and the funeral.
Jawdat says his grandmother and aunt were killed by Israeli snipers while sheltering in a Gaza church – Israel says it’s investigating
His family had been sheltering in the Holy Family Church since the beginning of the war. Now, they’ve buried their loved ones there.
The family blames Israeli snipers for their death. The IDF says it will continue its investigation.
Through tears, Han’na says that his two family members died before his eyes: “It was a shock… It was unbearable.”
He apologises to me for crying, and for not being able to speak much: “I’m sorry, but it’s just so difficult. We’ve endured so much.”
A big bang is heard as we are talking, then a second sounds out before Jawdat reluctantly says goodbye to his dad.
This morning in Bethlehem, church bells have been ringing as some locals gathered around the Jesus in the rubble installation and Arabic songs played out on the speakers, one calling for salam – peace – for children.
Dozens of people are in the middle holding a big Palestinian flag – waving it up and down.
The Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, Pierbattista Pizzaballa, is in Bethlehem for his traditional address. He was wearing the traditional black and white chequered Palestinian scarf.
Before he entered the Church of Nativity, he said this was “a very sad Christmas”.
He added that “a ceasefire is not enough”.
A few steps away from Manger Square, souvenir shops line Star Street on both sides but without the usual bustle of buying, selling and haggling. The famous Palestinian stitch scarves, cushion covers and artefacts hang outside shops, untouched.
This is normally high season for the market. Not this year.
He tells me that, sad as it is to see his city and his business this way, celebrating Christmas feels wrong this year: “We can’t be happy because we are not on the other side of the world. We are still in Palestine.”