Under the church’s roof in Gaza City: shelter, fear and a choice to stay
On a cramped compound in Gaza City, a handful of nuns, a priest and 450 people — among them disabled children, the elderly and the wounded — are sheltering beneath the vaulted roof of the Holy Family Catholic Church. Father Carlos Ferrero speaks softly on the phone, his voice threaded with exhaustion and faith, and describes a place where the ordinary rhythms of worship have been folded into the thud of distant explosions and the constant calculus of risk.
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A refuge that has itself been hit
“When there is a bomb very near here, things are falling down in our compound, so we have to be careful from everywhere,” Fr. Ferrero told RTÉ’s News at One. He recounted how the sisters’ house was struck repeatedly — three times — and how two women were killed by a sniper attack in December 2023. The church itself has been struck; some who took shelter there were killed and others remain wounded, he said.
That danger has made it “very difficult” for anyone to leave the compound, he added. Around 250,000 people have left Gaza City under Israeli military orders, according to Fr. Ferrero, but that still leaves hundreds of thousands in the city — he estimates up to one million — many of them too frightened or too vulnerable to move.
Inside the church grounds, the practical realities are stark: bedridden elders who cannot be moved, children with disabilities who require constant care, sick people whose condition makes travel impossible. “There are disabled children, there are elderly people who have no idea… they know they’re suffering, but they do not understand anything else,” he said. “Some of them have lost their mind.”
Why they choose to stay
When asked why he and the other members of the religious order have decided to remain, Fr. Ferrero’s answer was both pastoral and personal. “For those people,” he said. The nuns and helpers have remained alongside the vulnerable, continuing to offer spiritual services — eucharist, sacraments — and practical assistance to those who cannot leave on their own.
“God of course, Jesus,” he said when asked what keeps them going. “The people, they don’t question God, they question the human beings… That’s amazing, the faith they have.” His words point to a paradox common in conflict zones: an erosion of trust in institutions and humans, coupled with a deepening reliance on spiritual conviction and community solidarity.
Local sanctuary, global symbol
Religious sites as places of shelter
The Holy Family Church is one of many religious institutions in Gaza that have become de facto shelters. Churches, mosques and community centers often offer the last semblance of safety in neighborhoods turned battlefields. But history shows that such sanctuaries are vulnerable: places designed to gather people for prayer and community can quickly become traps when the front lines move through towns.
Fr. Ferrero said the pope and the papal nuncio in Israel have kept in contact, and that church leadership asked what they wished to do. Their answer — to remain — carries both moral weight and a practical urgency. There are people who cannot be relocated; there are psychosocial realities, too, that make sudden upheaval devastating for those already wounded or disoriented.
What this says about modern urban warfare
The situation in Gaza City is a small, intense example of a wider trend: conflict increasingly occurs in dense urban settings where civilians are trapped amid combatants. UN and humanitarian agencies have repeatedly warned that such warfare magnifies civilian suffering, disrupts services and erodes the space for neutral protection. When hospitals, schools and houses of worship become shelters, the risk to civilians multiplies.
How should the international community respond when the very places meant to protect the vulnerable become perilous? What obligations do warring parties have to preserve humanitarian space and to allow civilians, including those in religious care, to move to safety?
Faith, fear and the endurance of small communities
The Christian community in Gaza is tiny — a minority within a larger Muslim population — but it has been a presence in the territory for generations, tending to the sick and offering social services that governments and aid agencies sometimes cannot. Their choice to remain echoes a commitment that is both spiritual and civic. For many inside the compound, this is not only about religion; it is about continuity, caretaking and refusing to abandon those who have nowhere else to go.
Across conflicts, faith leaders often serve as first responders, negotiators and witnesses. That role can make them targets, but it also gives them a kind of moral authority to speak about suffering in ways that reach beyond political baggage.
Questions for a watching world
The images emerging from Gaza — people piled into churches, families encamped in mosques, entire neighborhoods emptying under orders to evacuate — force uncomfortable questions on the global audience. How do we balance the imperative to protect civilians with the reality that leaving may be impossible or even deadlier? How can humanitarian corridors be made reliable and secure? And how do international actors ensure accountability when places of refuge are themselves struck?
Father Ferrero’s voice, steady despite fear, reminds us that behind statistics are lives made up of habits, memories and relationships. “Everybody is scared, we are all scared,” he said simply. The sentence could describe any human heart in the line of fire. It also hints at a deeper challenge for policymakers and citizens alike: to turn global concern into consistent, safe avenues for protection — and to ensure that sanctuaries remain sanctuaries.
In the end, the choice to stay at the Holy Family Church is a small act of defiance against the randomness of war and a statement about what communities will do for one another. It is also a test for the international frameworks meant to safeguard noncombatants. As the world watches, the question persists: will those measures be enough?
By Abdiwahab Ahmed
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.
