In the closing days of his life, Pope Francis did what few world leaders dared: he called Israel’s war on Gaza what it was — not a military campaign, but an act of terrorism, and perhaps even genocide. His final Easter message, delivered just hours before his death on March 31, 2025, was a direct appeal to the world not to look away:
“I think of the people of Gaza and its Christian community in particular, where the terrible conflict continues to cause death and destruction… I appeal to the warring parties: call a ceasefire, release the hostages, and come to the aid of a starving people that aspires to a peace of future.”
His voice is now gone — but his legacy is not.
In a final act of solidarity with Gaza, Pope Francis asked that one of his popemobiles — the iconic symbol of papal humility and accessibility — be transformed into a mobile clinic for children in the Strip. The vehicle, once used to greet pilgrims and the faithful, is now being refitted by Caritas Jerusalem to bring medical aid, diagnostic tools, and vaccines to some of the most war-ravaged communities on Earth.
This transformation — from symbolic vehicle to literal lifeline — speaks volumes about who Pope Francis was. It also throws into sharp relief the direction in which his successor, Pope Leo XIV, may be taking the Church.
A Papacy Rooted in Gaza Solidarity
From the earliest days of Israel’s 2023 assault on Gaza, Pope Francis stood apart. While Western governments offered political cover and media narratives often framed the onslaught as “self-defense,” the Pope spoke plainly.
In October 2023, he personally called Israeli President Isaac Herzog and told him:
“It is forbidden to respond to terror with terror.”
In December of that year, after two nuns and a mother and daughter were killed by Israeli snipers at Gaza’s Holy Family Parish, Francis went further, calling the killings “terrorism” during a Vatican Angelus prayer.
“Yes, it’s war, but it’s also terrorism,” he said.
Then, in a papal book published weeks later, he wrote:
“According to some experts, what is happening in Gaza has the characteristics of a genocide. It should be carefully investigated to determine whether it fits into the technical definition.”
For the final 18 months of his life, Francis made nightly calls to the Christian community in Gaza, including to Father Gabriel Romanelli and Father Youssef Asaad at the Holy Family Catholic Church. These calls offered comfort amid chaos — a lifeline from the Vatican to a shrinking, embattled community.
Churches Bombed, Christians Killed
The devastation in Gaza has not spared its Christian minority — one of the oldest in the world. In October 2023, Israeli missile strikes hit the Church of Saint Porphyrius, Gaza’s oldest and most historic church, where dozens of civilians were sheltering. At least 18 people were killed.
Then in December, as the siege intensified, two Christian women — Nahida Khalil Anton and her daughter Samar Kamal Anton — were shot and killed by an Israeli sniper while trying to reach a bathroom inside the Holy Family compound. These killings were condemned by Francis himself, who named the victims in prayer and insisted the world must not excuse such atrocities.
“This is cruelty. This is not war,” he said in a December 2023 address to the Roman Curia.
Despite these horrors, the Christian community has endured, and many regarded Pope Francis as their sole advocate in the halls of global power.
Erased in Death — and Snubbed in Diplomacy
Yet when Pope Francis died, much of the Western world issued tributes that conspicuously omitted any reference to his bold stance on Gaza. UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer praised him as “a Pope for the poor,” while continuing to back Israeli operations. European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen called him “a voice of compassion,” even as her government defended the siege.
Mainstream media followed suit. The New York Times hailed Francis as “a voice for the voiceless,” but made no mention of his repeated Gaza appeals, use of the term “genocide,” or nightly calls to Gaza’s Christians.
Israel’s reaction was even more revealing. The Israeli Foreign Ministry initially posted a condolence message — then deleted it. According to The Jerusalem Post, foreign ministry officials later explained that the Pope had made “statements against Israel” and the tweet had been posted in “error.”
No senior Israeli official attended the Pope’s funeral. Only the ambassador to the Holy See was sent — a stark departure from normal diplomatic protocol. Israeli embassies worldwide were reportedly instructed not to sign Vatican condolence books.
The snub prompted outrage, even within Israel.
“I’m ashamed by the fact that the Israeli government and the Israeli Knesset did not release an official message of condolences,” said Israeli opposition MP Gilad Kariv during a visit to a central Catholic Church in Jerusalem. “I’m here in order to express my condolences on behalf of the vast majority of Israeli citizens.”
A New Pope, A Different Course?
Into this vacuum of moral leadership now steps Pope Leo XIV — formerly Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost — who was elected just eight days after Francis’s funeral. A native of Chicago and the first American pope in history, Leo XIV brings a different background, one steeped in post-Holocaust Jewish-Christian dialogue.
Prevost studied at the Catholic Theological Union in Chicago under Rev. John T. Pawlikowski, a key figure in shaping the Catholic Church’s modern relationship with Judaism. Pawlikowski was a founding board member of the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum and a leading proponent of interfaith harmony.
Unsurprisingly, Jewish and Israeli media welcomed Prevost’s election warmly. The Jerusalem Post, The Algemeiner, JNS.org, and others published favorable profiles, praising his background and potential to “rebuild” Israel-Vatican ties.
Israeli President Isaac Herzog congratulated the new pope, stating, “We look forward to strengthening the bonds of understanding between Israel and the Holy See.” Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu added that Leo XIV was “a bridge-builder at a time of great need.”
A Measured Tone, A Nervous Flock
In his first Sunday blessing as pope, Leo XIV did call for a Gaza ceasefire and the release of hostages. But his language was restrained, lacking the specificity and moral urgency that had defined Francis’s appeals. There was no mention of Israeli responsibility, no naming of the dead, no mention of Gaza’s Christian martyrs.
That omission is being watched closely.
“Francis was not only the Bishop of Rome — he was the shepherd of Gaza,” said Rev. Munther Isaac, a Palestinian Lutheran theologian. “He gave voice to our pain. So far, Leo XIV has not.”
Some Church officials in the region remain hopeful. The Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa, acknowledged Leo XIV’s interfaith credentials and said he believes the new pope will “understand the suffering of Gaza’s Christians.” But he added: “We do not yet know what voice he will use.”
A Legacy on Wheels
Even as the Vatican enters this new and uncertain era, Francis’s moral compass still rolls through Gaza — quite literally.
His converted popemobile — once a symbol of humility, now a vehicle of mercy — is en route to serve children who have lost homes, families, and limbs. In a place where words have too often failed, this clinic speaks with deeds.
And in doing so, it leaves a challenge for his successor:
Will Pope Leo XIV continue this path of prophetic courage — or retreat into the safety of diplomacy?
The world — and Gaza — waits to see.
