But as the millennium year nears and crowds of the faithful swell behind doorkeeper Wajeeh Nuseibeh, Jerusalem's church of the holy sepulchre is also being seen as something altogether more worldly -- a potential death trap for throngs of pilgrims.

To the horror of safety officials, the labyrinthine church, revered by Christians as the site of Christ's crucifixion and burial, has but one door barely two metres (yards) wide

``There is an urgent need for a new emergency exit to prevent a possible catastrophe,'' Israeli police spokeswoman Linda Menuhin said of the shrine in Jerusalem's walled old city.

For years, police and emergency services have warned of ``nightmare scenarios'' at the church, which can hold thousands of visitors.

They fear untold casualties from an extremist attack, whether by militants or the deranged, or froma panic-induced stampede.

The delicately lit interior of the 11th century church is a safety expert's worst curse, a warren of blind alleys and dead ends. Structural damage is still evident and unaddressed after two major fires and an earthquake over the past 200 years.

Escape routes from the church, shared uneasily by three branches of Christianity, pose a further threat. The paths lead away through a bustling souk (market area) studded with uneven paving slabs and slippery stone stairs.

Regarding the holy sepulchre, Israel maintains it has tried for four years to reopen some of the 10 sealed doors that offered access to the church when it was built in 1042 on the ruins of a Roman basilica.

It says squabbling between the Roman Catholic, Armenian, and Greek orthodox churches has barred all efforts at change.

Even in a city where religious conflicts are as commonplace as traffic snarls, the zealously guarded status quo of the holy sepulchre -- subdivided into areas ruled by the threedenominations -- is noteworthy.

A special ministerial committee is to meet on November 16 in a renewed effort to find a way to solve the door jam.

Doorkeeper Nuseibeh, 47, said any move to change the status quo would be playing with fire, not least because of the sensitivities that stem from Israel's hold over the holy city.

``A door will wreck the balance,'' he said. ``Israel wants the door for politics -- they want to show they are directors here.''

in an elaborate ritual enacted each morning and night, Nuseibeh follows his forebears up a ladder to work an ancient, conical iron lock from the outside of the church.

Another Muslim clan has formal possession of the key. The Christian denominations take turns pushing the ladder out to Nuseibeh in the darkness through a small portal.

``This position has been passed down in my family, father to son, from the time of the Caliph Omar, in the year 636 AD. When the crusaders came, they threw out the orthodox Christians and killed 70,000 Muslims inJerusalem.''

Nuseibeh's family fled north and resumed its work when the Muslim hero Saladin retook the holy land in the 13th century.

``We are a family here,'' said Nuseibeh, a 25-year veteran of the lock detail, who expects his eldest son to succeed him.

``We have been happy and everything has been fine for 800 years. People are safe. They don't need the door, the trouble.''