In the ruins of war-torn Gaza, the small Catholic community is grieving a loss that goes beyond bombs and buildings. “We’re like orphans now,” George Anton, a parishioner at the Holy Family Catholic Church, told BBC.
For them, Pope Francis wasn’t just the head of the Church — he was a voice in the dark, calling almost nightly to ask what they had eaten, how they were holding up, and to offer his quiet strength. His last call came just two days before his death, on Holy Saturday, Vatican News reported.
“The Pope called us for the last time on Saturday evening, shortly before the start of the Easter Vigil, while we were praying the Rosary. He told us that he was praying for us, blessed us, and thanked us for our prayers on his behalf."
For 18 months of relentless conflict, the Pope checked in personally with the few hundred Christians still living in the Gaza Strip, an enclave of over two million people, the vast majority of whom are Muslim.
The Holy Family Catholic Church in Gaza City -- the only Catholic parish in the Gaza Strip -- became a shelter, a home, a community sustained by faith and the sound of an unexpected phone call.
The pastor at Holy Family is from Argentina like the Pope, and is a missionary with the Institute of the Incarnate Word, a congregation established in their homeland.
The Vatican released a short video after Francis' death that captured the gentle familiarity of these nightly conversations.
In one, the Pope asks the priest, Father Gabriel Romanelli, what they’ve had for dinner. “The rest of the chicken from yesterday,” comes the reply, met with the Pope’s warm chuckle. These were no formal papal audiences. They were lifelines.
"We ask the Lord,” said Father Romanelli, ”to grant him eternal rest, and we pray that men and women of good will throughout the world will heed his constant and urgent calls for peace in Gaza and throughout the world.”
On January 22, after the cease-fire, the Pope told the faithful at the general audience about his call:
Yesterday I called -- I do it every day -- the parish in Gaza: They were happy! There are 600 people in there, between parish and school. And they told me, “Today we had lentils with chicken.” Something they were not used to doing in these times: just some vegetables, something … They were happy!
What more can I do for you?
Yolande Knell, BBC Middle East Correspondent, recounts how these calls touched lives. Anton, the emergency coordinator at the church, was speechless when the calls first started coming. Then he found himself confiding in the Pontiff — about losing his home, his family, his sense of safety.
“He was all the time blessing me… He always encouraged us to be strong,” Anton told Knell. The Pope’s constant question was always, “What more can I do for you?”
In Gaza, where death and destruction became routine, this daily contact with the Vatican’s spiritual leader provided something extraordinary — a sense that they were not forgotten.
Pope Francis’ bond with Gaza’s Christians reflected his deep concern for the Holy Land. His 2014 visit included an unscheduled stop at the Israeli barrier wall in Bethlehem, where he prayed silently for peace. In his final Easter message, read by an aide, he again pleaded for a ceasefire, calling the situation in Gaza a “dramatic and deplorable humanitarian situation.”
Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa, the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, noted that the Pope’s words cut through political ambiguity. “War is not just weapons. War is sometimes words,” he said, affirming Francis’ moral clarity.
Now, as a new conclave will begin in Rome to choose Francis’ successor, Gaza’s Christians are praying not just for a new pope, but for a continuation of compassion. They hope the next pontiff will remember their names too — and continue calling for peace with the same courage and tenderness.
In the land where Christianity first took root, Gaza’s remaining Christians continue to walk the way of faith — carrying palm branches through rubble, lighting candles against the dark.
At St. Porphyrius Greek Orthodox Church, women in colorful dresses marked Palm Sunday with quiet resilience. For them, and for many in Gaza, Pope Francis embodied a vision of dignity for all living in the region. That vision, as reported by Jane Arraf for NPR, is the legacy they now carry forward — one of presence, peace, and the radical belief that human life is sacred.
