Pope Francis called this pastor in Gaza every day since the war began

Also native of Francis' Argentinia, Romanelli serves a Catholic parish of 135 people.

"We are fine and trying to continue our usual, normal daily life," he said, his voice calm but weighted with the anguish of a community besieged by war. "The most important urgency of all is peace." 

Yet, peace remains elusive in the Zaytun neighborhood, one of the oldest parts of Gaza, where he and his parish serve as an anchor for thousands of displaced people.

The numbers paint a stark picture: 2,200 people in the Zaytun neighborhood, the Old City of Gaza, alone depend on the Catholic parish for essentials like food, water and medical assistance. Across northern Gaza, the scale of need dwarfs the resources available.

"We've helped more than 7,000 families — 41,000 people — but that's only 10% of the population here," Romanelli said.

The struggle to secure even basic nutrition is a daily ordeal.

"For more than a year, people had only flour, and so many lost so many kilograms. After that, they let in some canned food, some fava beans, however, we did not eat any vegetables and fresh fruit for almost a year," he said.

"Once, we distributed some chicken — it was like a big feast."

The humanitarian crisis in Gaza extends beyond food shortages. "There is garbage everywhere, and sometimes they burn it in the air," he said.

Romanelli said there has been a rise in skin infections and illnesses like salmonella, which he also contracted. 

Internal Gazan refugees live in dire conditions, often crammed into the church school classrooms or huddling in the rubble of bombed-out buildings. At his parish, 500 people are currently taking refuge, relying on limited energy resources like a damaged generator and a few solar panels.

"For those with serious illnesses, it's almost a death sentence," Romanelli said. 

Hospitals are overwhelmed or destroyed, leaving thousands without access to treatment. A colon cancer survivor, Romanelli said his own follow-up care has been deferred. "My oncologist told me I could wait. I feel fine anyway."

Despite overwhelming challenges, Romanelli and two other priests of the Incarnate Word congregation strive to nurture the spiritual life of their parishioners.

"We do adoration to the Blessed Sacrament for an hour every day in silence. In the afternoon we do rosary and Holy Mass," the priest said. "One of us is always available for confession."

In addition to functioning as a shelter in which to sleep at night and carry out daily life activities, the parish is also hosting a small dispensary and an analysis laboratory to help the sick.

"The house of Jesus is everyone's house, and Jesus feels happy about that," he said with a smile.

The challenges in the West Bank are no less profound for Catholic Palestinian priests, especially in the areas where Palestinians face daily threats from the Israeli settlers and the Israeli military checkpoints. Fr. Firas Abedrabbo, pastor* at a parish composed of just 400 Catholics at Ain Arik near Ramallah, said that the conflict has added layers of complexity to his ministry.

"I understand the occupation and the need to resist it, but as a Christian, I cannot accept any form of resistance that targets civilians," he said.

Economic hardship looms large as many parishioners have lost jobs due to movement restrictions imposed by the Israeli military checkpoints in the West Bank.

"We have the impression that they are imprisoning us in ghettos, and all the other lands around are taken by the settlements," Abedrabbo* said. "Palestinians in the West Bank are living in their cities and villages, they move, but there could be always a checkpoint here, or there's a lot of control, humiliation, inspections, closed barriers. You never know which time you arrive." 

"This reality changed me. I've seen the ugly side of the world and understood that dogmatic Christianity isn't enough here. Life, human dignity and justice become more urgent."

At Our Lady of the Annunciation in Beit Jala, pastor Fr. Hanna Mass'ad, serves about 3,000 parishioners, who have been particularly hard-hit because of the complete halt in tourism and pilgrimages, the lifeline of Bethlehem Christian residents.

"Our people here are Palestinians, as are the people of Gaza. We suffer on both sides. In the West Bank, the suffering is a little bit different — we are not under bombardment, but the Israeli army can enter anywhere, anytime. We are in a big prison," the priest said. 

The church's aid, supported by appeals made by the Latin Patriarchate to Catholic communities worldwide, provides some relief. However, it is far from enough.

"People come to me saying, 'Abuna, help us. We don't have food, we can't pay for medicines or school fees,' " he said. "Many are now considering leaving the Holy Land in search of a better future."

The ongoing economic and political challenges faced by the Christian population in the West Bank have reached alarming levels, according to Sami El-Yousef, CEO of the Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem.

"Unemployment has shot up through the roof," he said. The Palestinian Authority also cannot pay civil servants due to the lack of tax revenue transfers from Israel. El-Yousef said roughly 120,000 households once relied on daily work in Israel, but with the suspension of permits to work there, most jobs have evaporated.

The Latin Patriarchate has provided temporary relief through food distribution, tuition assistance and support for rent and medical expenses. The Patriarchate also has developed employment initiatives that have created hundreds of jobs.

Despite these efforts, El-Yousef acknowledged limits. "We don't have too many cards to play in that end," he said.

Romanelli said that his faith remains unshaken. "I have never had temptations against faith; in fact, it has strengthened me," he said. "We weary God with our prayers, but he listens. The cross of the Lord was history's great smash, but also its great triumph."