By Mohammad Eslami and Ibrahim Marashi | –
Braga, Portugal and San Marcos, Ca. (Special to Informed Comment; Feature) – The world now grieves the loss of Pope Francis, a spiritual titan whose moral compass and unwavering voice for the marginalized reverberated far beyond the confines of Vatican walls. At the heart of his papacy was an unyielding commitment to peace, justice, and interfaith harmony—none more poignant than his deep and continuous advocacy for the Palestinians.
In his final public address, delivered on Easter Sunday from a balcony overlooking St. Peter’s Square, Pope Francis, frail but fiercely lucid, used his last breath of public influence to condemn the escalating violence in Gaza. “Let us not forget the suffering of the Palestinian people,” he said. The moment was brief, but its significance reverberated across a world grappling with moral ambiguity. It was a final reminder of where he stood—unflinchingly—on one of the most polarizing and painful crises of our time.
A Papacy of Advocacy
Pope Francis’s approach to the Middle East was never one of abstraction. His solidarity with the Palestinian people was not rhetorical; it was pastoral, personal, and at times, political. As recently as February 2024, he condemned the “unbearable” suffering in Gaza, decrying the Israeli bombing campaign as disproportionate and calling for a humanitarian ceasefire. “Enough, please stop,” he said during a general audience, imploring leaders to consider the human cost behind military rhetoric.
This was not a new stance. From the early years of his papacy, Francis advocated for a two-state solution grounded in dignity and mutual recognition. His 2014 visit to the Holy Land was a masterclass in symbolic diplomacy—embracing both Israeli and Palestinian leaders, while pointedly stopping to pray beside the controversial separation wall in Bethlehem. That image—Pope Francis touching a symbol of division while silently praying for unity—was seared into global consciousness.
What distinguished Francis from other world leaders, both secular and religious, was his refusal to succumb to the binary narratives that often dominate Middle East discourse. He consistently condemned violence from all sides, yet his empathy with the plight of Palestinians—particularly civilians trapped in the Strip under siege—was unmatched among global figures.
Faith as a Bridge: From Assisi to Al-Azhar
To understand Pope Francis’s worldview, one must revisit his decision to adopt the name “Francis.” It was not chosen lightly. St. Francis of Assisi, the 13th-century Italian friar, is revered not only for his simplicity and love for the poor, but also for his audacious mission of peace during the Fifth Crusade. In 1219, Francis crossed enemy lines to meet Sultan al-Kamil of Egypt. Their exchange defied the logic of war: rather than executing him, the Sultan welcomed Francis, and the two men—divided by religion but united in spirit—formed a bond that confounded their contemporaries.
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This historical encounter profoundly shaped Pope Francis’s theology of encounter. “Dialogue is the only path,” he often said, and he embodied it with deliberate action. In 2019, he made an historic trip to Abu Dhabi where he co-signed the Document on Human Fraternity with Grand Imam Ahmed el-Tayeb of Al-Azhar in Egypt. The event marked the first papal visit to the Arabian Peninsula and was a watershed moment in Catholic-Muslim relations.
Francis also visited Egypt in 2017, where he addressed religious leaders at Al-Azhar University, denouncing religious violence and calling for faith to be a “bulwark against extremism.” In these encounters, he positioned religious identity not as a source of conflict, but as a wellspring of reconciliation.
Pope Francis waving for the people after the mass in Bethlehem. (By Mustafa Bader). Published under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license. H/t Wikimedia Commons.
Gaza: A Moral Epicenter
In recent years, especially under the tumult of the second Trump administration and an increasingly polarized geopolitical climate, Pope Francis emerged as a singular voice calling for sanity and solidarity. He openly criticized the language of a “Clash of Civilizations,” warning that such rhetoric dehumanizes and divides. For him, Gaza was not just a political flashpoint—it was a moral epicenter.
The Pope’s relationship with the tiny Christian community in Gaza was intimate and heartfelt. In the final months of his life, as Israeli bombardments intensified, Francis made nightly phone calls to Christian leaders in Gaza, offering comfort and prayer. These weren’t publicized gestures for political capital; they were acts of pastoral compassion—precisely the kind that defined his pontificate.
His unique combination of spiritual leadership and geopolitical awareness allowed him to speak into silence, especially when many world leaders hesitated. “Peace is not made with weapons,” he once said. “Peace is made with the outstretched hand.”
A Void in “Geotheological” Affairs
Pope Francis’s death not only leaves a spiritual vacuum but also an absence in the domain of what might be termed “geotheological affairs”—the intersection of global politics and moral theology. In an age where nationalism, religious fundamentalism, and power politics often dominate the global stage, Francis offered an alternative paradigm rooted in humility, mercy, and encounter.
His opposition to the weaponization of religion and his insistence on dialogue made him a rare figure—one who could transcend political boundaries without losing moral clarity. His legacy now places the onus on global faith leaders, civil society, and political institutions to continue his mission.
The challenge now is not merely to mourn, but to emulate. Francis’s legacy is not enshrined in statues or titles, but in the posture he adopted toward the world: one of listening, advocating, and reaching out to the other. For those watching the unfolding tragedy in Palestine, his message remains crystal clear—neutrality in the face of oppression is complicity, and silence is not an option.
In a world increasingly fragmented by war and fear, Francis insisted on seeing the other not as a threat, but as a neighbor. As he once said, “A little bit of mercy makes the world less cold and more just.” In the streets of Gaza, in the churches of Bethlehem, and in the hearts of peace-seekers everywhere, that warmth now flickers in his memory.
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Mohammad Eslami is an Invited Assistant Professor of International Relations at the University of Minho, Braga, Portugal.
Ibrahim Al-Marashi is Associate Professor of History at Cal State San Marcos. He co-authored with Arthur Goldschmidt Jr., A Concise History of the Middle East (Routledge, 2018) and with Phebe Marr, The Modern History of Iraq (Routledge, 2017).
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