In the towns and villages of southern Syria that Israel has occupied since the overthrow of longtime strongman Bashar al-Assad, soldiers and residents size each other up from a distance.

The main street of the village of Jabata al-Khashab is largely deserted as a foot patrol of Israeli troops passes through it.

A Christmas tree stands among the fallen stones of what remains of St. George Melkite Catholic Church in southern Lebanon. Once a vibrant community center, the 18th-century church is in ruins after an Israeli airstrike in October.

Georges Elia, a 40-year-old municipal worker and churchgoer, took it upon himself to bring some normalcy as the holiday season approached, weeks after a fragile ceasefire with Israel.

Israel and Hamas appear closer than they have been in months to agreeing to a ceasefire that could wind down the 14-month war in Gaza and bring home dozens of people held hostage there.

But the sides have come close before, only to have talks collapse over various disagreements. This round of negotiations also faces hurdles.

The four sisters gathered by the side of the road, craning their necks to peer far beyond the razor wire-reinforced fence snaking across the mountain. One took off her jacket and waved it slowly above her head.

In the distance, a tiny white speck waved frantically from the hillside.

High in the mountains of the Israeli-controlled Golan Heights, the town of Majdal Shams is home to members of one of the Middle East's most insular religious minorities: the Druze.

With its roots in 10th century Ismailism, a branch of Shiite Islam, the roughly 1 million-strong minority is spread across Syria, Lebanon, Israel and the Golan Heights.

Israel's prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, entered Syrian territory Tuesday and said Israeli troops would remain in the area indefinitely, blurring the border with its northern neighbor.

Since its establishment in 1948, Israel has never had fully recognized borders. Throughout its history, the frontiers with its Arab neighbors have shifted as a result of wars, annexations, ceasefires and peace agreements.

After insurgents toppled Syrian President Bashar Assad this month, many senior officials and members of his dreaded intelligence and security services appear to have melted away. Activists say some of them have managed to flee the country while others went to hide in their hometowns.

For more than five decades, the Assad family has ruled Syria with an iron grip, locking up those who dared question their power in the country's notorious prisons, where rights groups say inmates were regularly tortured or killed.

Veteran documentarian Alex Gibney, who in a decades-long career has tackled many a thorny issue, wasn't planning a film about Israel — until one day last year, when a stunning leak fell into his hands.

The leak turned out to be more like a deluge.

By Mireille Rebeiz, Dickinson College

The fall of President Bashar Assad will not only affect the 24 million Syrians who lived – and largely suffered – under his brutal rule. Over the border in Lebanon, the impact will be felt, too.

An Israeli bomb hangs suspended in air, caught in a split-second image of a suburb in Beirut before it slams into an apartment building, passersby already bracing for the explosion.

Across the Middle East this year, photographers froze moments in time, reflections of the wars and their horrors that have upended life across the region.