In Bethlehem on December 25, as Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa celebrated mass, Gabriel Romanelli, the parish priest of Gaza, was desperately awaiting news from his parish. That Christmas night, while the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem was calling for an "end to hostilities" in the Palestinian enclave, the telephone network was cut off in Gaza.

The 54-year-old Argentinian priest had to wait until the early hours of the morning to receive a message from Father Youssef, his vicar in charge of the 600 refugees inside the Holy Family parish church in the Zeitoun district. For security reasons, their midnight mass had to be organized in the afternoon, with a procession limited to the church grounds. Two hours of calm, with no bombing, enabled them to go out and buy a few liters of gasoline needed to run the electric generator, at almost six times the normal price. "And the children were given a small glass of fruit juice, to change from the usual rice and canned food," added the cleric based at the headquarters of the Latin Patriarchate, at the entrance to Jerusalem's Old City, on Wednesday, December 27.

Wearing a black cassock, his eyes shifting from laughter to sadness in a fraction of a second, Romanelli underlined his regrets at not being in Gaza, and recalled his repeated requests for access to the Palestinian territory, which, he pointed out, have so far gone unanswered. "I absolutely have to go back."

The priest has been blocked on Israeli territory since October 7. The day before, after a trip to the Vatican, the 50-year-old was due to pick up medicines, only available in Israel, for a sister of the congregation. Since the Hamas attack on Israel, his multiple permits to access the Gaza Strip since taking office in 2019 have been of no use to him. "I keep asking myself why I was here," said the priest, head of a community of 150 Catholics among the thousand Christians in the enclave.

Even from a distance, this man of the cloth knows how to make himself useful: He passes on to his flock messages of support from Pope Francis, his Argentine compatriot, who telephones him every day. When possible, the pontiff's prayers and encouragement are even transferred to Gaza and broadcast to parishioners by loudspeaker. From a distance, Father Gabriel organizes the daily life of the beleaguered parishioners: He has set up a series of committees dedicated to security, running the pharmacy, finding food or looking after the children, to protect the small community.

You have 55% of this article left to read. The rest is for subscribers only.