(RNS) — It is one of the most surreal images to emerge from the genocide in Gaza: The former popemobile, once the armored symbol of papal ceremony, reconfigured into a mobile health clinic. Once used to carry Pope Francis through cheering crowds, it is now meant to be packed with medical supplies and loaded onto a cargo ship, with the hope that it will reach Gaza and serve children trapped beneath siege.
If it makes it past the Israeli blockade — a blockade that has suffocated Gaza for nearly two decades — it will become a mobile clinic, equipped with oxygen tanks, medicine, and surgical tools for children who are bleeding, starving and surviving under conditions unimaginable to most of the world.
This was not a PR stunt. According to Vatican officials, this was one of the pontiff’s final wishes. In his last days, he asked that his vehicle be used not for spectacle, but for service. Especially in Gaza.
It is a powerful image. But the hypocrisy that surrounds it is even louder.
Western Christian leaders and commentators are applauding this gesture and showering the pope with praise, but some of the commentators celebrating the popemobile’s new purpose are the same ones who remained silent as tens of thousands of children were bombed and starved. Or worse, they cheered it on.
You cannot love the symbol and abandon the substance.
A Palestinian girl wounded in an Israeli airstrike on a school in Bureij refugee camp is brought to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir al Balah, central Gaza Strip, on May 6, 2025. (AP Photo/Abdel Kareem Hana)
When Francis died, words like “humble,” “gentle,” “compassionate” echoed across official tributes. But missing from most of them was the one place he had spoken about more than almost any other in his final months: Gaza.
Francis called the siege “shameful.” He spoke daily with members of Gaza’s tiny Christian community. He condemned the killing of civilians, the starvation of children, the systematic destruction of homes, churches and hospitals. He didn’t tiptoe around Gaza. He embraced it.
But somehow, in the official remembrances, that part of his legacy is already being erased.
This silence is not new. But it is deeply telling.
In a recent conversation, the Rev. Munther Isaac, a Palestinian Christian leader from Bethlehem, spoke to me of the heartbreak of watching fellow Christians in the West remain silent, or worse, support the violence. He reminded us that solidarity is not seasonal and that the church’s failure to stand with the oppressed in Gaza will be remembered.
What does it say about a faith that celebrates the repurposing of the popemobile but can’t bring itself to call for a mere ceasefire? That mourns the suffering of the poor but justifies the mass killing of Palestinian children? That praises the pope’s compassion while ignoring his final message?
You cannot celebrate the legacy of Francis while erasing the people he wanted to be remembered with.
Pope Francis waves to people from his popemobile along the Copacabana beachfront as he arrives for the Stations of the Cross procession in Rio de Janeiro, July 26, 2013. (AP Photo/Andre Penner, File)
You cannot quote Jesus (peace be upon him) while ignoring those being crucified by bombs made in your country and dropped on civilians you refuse to name.
You cannot speak of a God who loves humanity while giving the religious language to the dehumanization that continues to further this genocide.
The popemobile now waits at the blockade — silent but loud in its witness. It stands as a symbol of rebuke to those who continue to betray their so-called prophetic witness for bankrupt political expediency.
If the vehicle makes it through, it will deliver not just supplies, but a statement. That the people of Gaza matter. That their lives are sacred. That their children deserve more than silence.