“We don’t want the Holy Land to remain a land of archeology and history,” said Bishop Giacinto-Boulos Marcuzzo. “We want a presence of living community in the Holy Land.”

If he wants a living presence, it seems as though he’s got it. Every photo snapped at many of the holy sites in Israel, Jordan or Palestine is guaranteed to include a nun, priest or brother in the background, welcoming pilgrims in the doorway, carefully making room for more prayer candles or quietly moving from one doorway to the next.

While this may make for a pleasing snapshot, the real portrait the bishop seeks includes the whole family — consecrated religious and pilgrims along with generations of Catholics who can happily and safely call the Holy Land home.

That certainly is a big picture. But, right now, it has people missing. There is a diminishing population of about 400,000 Christians in the Holy Land (including Israel, Jordan and Palestine). Half of these are Catholic (the bishop estimates 210,000), and most are Palestinian. But because of the conflict between Jewish Israelis and Arab Palestinians over who has sovereignty of the land, there is an atmosphere of uncertainty and fear. Palestinians are not allowed to cross the border into Israel without a temporary, hard-to-attain permit. And while most holy sites in the Holy Land are in Israel, Christians there make up only two per cent of that population. Then there is a centuries-old history of persecution of Christians in all regions of the Holy Land.

For many pilgrims and dreamers from afar, however, the Holy Land is a postcard of holy sites, marking the various steps Jesus Christ made during His lifetime. And Marcuzzo agrees this should be an accurate depiction.

“The church was born here,” he said. “Jesus Christ was born in Bethlehem. He lived here. He travelled to Jerusalem. He rose from the dead. This is the country of faith.

“There are a good number of holy places here. It is a very precious patrimony to be kept and presented to the whole world for all of history. This is a great responsibility.”

So helping with the duties are the religious — and they come in large numbers. Among the many orders that have religious communities in the Holy Land, Marcuzzo estimates there are 1,500 sisters.

Good thing the men and women come ready to work. In addition to caring for various churches, congregations are responsible for the schools linked to the parishes (and, according to the Israeli Ministry of Education, these schools are known to offer the best of information, discipline and atmosphere). Religious communities have established and are responsible for the administration of hospitals and nursing homes. Some run social programs, like the drug rehabilitation residential home that sits next to the Church of the Transfiguration. And a number of orders have opened guest houses for working visitors and pilgrims - one of these is the Notre Dame of Jerusalem Centre, which can house up to 500 pilgrims, offers courses on spiritual renewal and is dedicated to ministering to Catholic pilgrims from around the world.

But with these responsibilities, there is also strain. Communities are stretched to care for both the pilgrim church, with an average of 80,000 Catholic pilgrims per year, and the local church, which has needs vastly different than that of the pilgrims.

But they try nonetheless. Fr. Majdi Al Siryani is a priest with Jordanian roots living in Palestinian-controlled Bethlehem. The land he calls home is a hotspot for violence, and his parishioners are persecuted because of both their religion and their citizenship. Palestinians feel isolated as they stand on one side of a security fence raised by the Israel government in an effort to eliminate conflict — more specifically, suicide bombers who have killed hundreds of people in the last few years. On their side of these concrete barriers, many Palestinians are unemployed, unsupported by their own government and blocked out by another. They can only exit through checkpoints if they have permits, and very few do.

“Do you know how we explain the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to our students?” Siryani asks, pointing in the direction of the Jerusalem church. “Through videos.”

So how can he preach the Gospel message? Siryani tells the story of one Sunday when the pews of his church were filled with local parishioners and visiting pilgrims and, in the Gospel reading, Jesus tells His disciples to love their enemies.

“I spoke first in Arabic to my parishioners,” Siryani said. “I said to them, ‛If I told you to love the Israelis, you’d hunt me down. Your enemy is identified. It’s not a concept — it’s a checkpoint one mile down the road.’”

Then switching to English, Siryani told the pilgrims the importance of the Palestinian Catholics learning to love their neighbours and how each one strives to do so.

“How can I tell my people to love their enemy? How can I tell pilgrims anything different?” Siryani asked. The message, he said, just doesn’t translate.

Whether or not visitors get the same homily, many people in the Holy Land — religious, shopkeepers and tourism representatives alike — stress the importance of the pilgrim church.

“Just as important (as the native Christians) are the pilgrims,” said Fr. Joshua Doyle, a Franciscan priest working and living on Mount Tabor in Galilee region of Israel. “These are reflective tourists who visit these places with great respect. They are practising the traditions and celebrating Mass.”

Having just moved to Israel four months ago from Boston, Massachusetts, Doyle looks with fresh eyes at the situation and shakes his head in disbelief at the persecution of Christians. He tells the story of one young man he knows, now living in Rome.

“His father is in the Jewish diplomatic corps,” Doyle said. “The young man converted to Catholicism and his father stopped talking to him.”

He went added that the young man’s sister, who works in the Israeli secret service, was denied a promotion because of her brother’s actions. Facing this prevailing prejudice against them, many Christians are packing up and leaving.

But what is still encouraging is the hope of the young people. In Bethlehem’s exterior township of Beitjala, Grade 11 students at the Latin Patriarchate School affirm their love for the Holy Land, despite the restrictions that prevent them from entering into neighbouring Jerusalem.

“One of the most important parts of Bethlehem is the land,” said 16-year-old Ranin Haviania. “If you live in the Holy Land, you have much stronger faith which will help you stay strong and support your family. Faith is the factor that is keeping many of us in this land.”

Her friend Tamara Abdel Vour agrees with the need to keep praying.

“Without hope, we can’t survive,” she said.

So Ranin, Tamara, and their classmates keep on studying and praying, preparing themselves to do the hard work to move their country toward peace.

“I will never leave,” said fellow student Mary Abu Ghattas.

In addition to these hope-filled students, Siryani has an idea of who can assemble the family for the picture that Bishop Marcuzzo dreams of.

“The church and journalists,” he said. “We need third-party people who are pro-truth without political agenda.”

He added that both groups should act as listening ears in the Holy Land in order to present the truth. With truth, big things can happen — the wall between Israel and Palestine will come down, violence will cease, persecution will end and pilgrims will return in abundance to the Holy Land. With truth, he said, “that is when we will have hope.”

In the meantime — however long the meantime may be — Bishop Marcuzzo is grateful for the support of the familial church.

“Our church is the mother church, the first church, out of which all churches are born. It is natural for all universal churches to do something for their mother.”

(Kantor is a producer at Salt+Light TV in Toronto.)