On December 2, 2025, Beirut’s battered port—still marked by the twisted remains and mounds of rubble from the catastrophic 2020 explosion—became the unlikely stage for a historic moment of hope and reflection. Pope Leo XIV, on the final day of his whirlwind three-day visit to Lebanon, stood in silent prayer at the memorial to more than 220 people killed and thousands injured in the disaster that has come to symbolize Lebanon’s enduring turmoil.
In a country where scars run deep—from civil war, economic collapse, and sectarian strife to the devastation wrought by the blast—his presence was more than ceremonial. As reported by Al Jazeera, the U.S.-born pontiff lit a lamp at the monument, met survivors and relatives of victims, and offered individual blessings. Cecile Roukoz, a lawyer whose brother died in the explosion, spoke for many when she said, “We are very grateful for this visit from the Pope. We know that he raises his voice for justice and we need justice for our brothers and all the victims of this explosion.”
For the families gathered—some clutching photos of loved ones lost, others weeping openly—the encounter was deeply personal. According to National Catholic Reporter, family members handed Pope Leo a scarf adorned with the faces of the blast victims, a poignant gesture echoing their ongoing plea for accountability. Lebanese Prime Minister Nawaf Salam, whose own mother perished in the explosion, was among those present.
The Pope’s visit to the blast site was just the beginning of a powerful day. Earlier, he had stopped at a hospital for people with mental disabilities on the outskirts of Beirut, offering comfort to patients and staff. But it was the open-air Mass on Beirut’s waterfront—attended by an estimated 150,000 people, as noted by the Vatican’s press service and reported in Al Jazeera—that served as the emotional crescendo of his trip. The turnout, though impressive, was markedly smaller than the 300,000 who gathered for Pope Benedict XVI’s Mass in 2012, a sign of Lebanon’s recent population exodus amid relentless crises.
With the Mediterranean Sea as his backdrop and the city’s battered skyline in view, Pope Leo delivered a homily that struck at the heart of Lebanon’s challenges. “We must unite our efforts so that this land can return to its glory,” he declared. “Let us cast off the armor of our ethnic and political divisions, open our religious confessions to mutual encounter and reawaken in our hearts the dream of a united Lebanon.”
The Pope’s words resonated with a population weary from years of hardship. “Since Pope Benedict XVI was here… it has been crisis after crisis for the country: Economic collapse, people losing their savings and then the port explosion,” observed Zeina Khodr of Al Jazeera. “And now the continuing conflict between Hezbollah and Israel. Really, the list goes on. When you speak to people here, they say life is difficult and we are struggling, but we appreciate the Pope’s presence.”
In his appeal after Mass, Pope Leo broadened his message beyond Lebanon’s borders. “Listen to the cry of your peoples who are calling for peace!” he implored political and social leaders in all countries marked by war. He called for new approaches to reject the mindset of revenge and violence, urging the Middle East to “open new chapters in the name of reconciliation and peace.”
He didn’t mince words about the challenges ahead. “The path of mutual hostility and destruction, and the horror with the deplorable results that are before everyone’s eyes. We need to change course, we need to educate our hearts for peace,” he emphasized, as quoted by National Catholic Reporter.
For many, the Pope’s visit was a rare moment of unity in a nation defined by its religious diversity and political fragmentation. Louis Abou Charaf, a lawyer from Mt. Lebanon who attended the Mass with his family, told National Catholic Reporter, “It dies and lives again; this is the story of Lebanon.” He likened his country to a phoenix, expressing hope that the Pope’s presence would inspire Lebanon “to be part of the peace process in the region” and signal to neighboring countries to “leave Lebanon alone.”
Yet, the shadow of the 2020 port explosion loomed large throughout the day. The blast, triggered by the ignition of some 2,750 tons of military-grade ammonium nitrate that had been improperly stored for years, is widely seen as a symbol of entrenched political corruption and negligence. According to National Catholic Reporter and Al Jazeera, investigations into the disaster have been repeatedly stalled by political interference, and as of December 2025, no official has been convicted. The site remains scarred, a daily reminder of the impunity that many Lebanese feel has defined their recent history.
As The New York Times reported, the Pope’s visit—his first international trip as head of the Roman Catholic Church—was laden with symbolism from the outset. Families, government officials from various faiths, and even U.N. peacekeepers arrived at the waterfront Mass as early as dawn, many on foot due to closed roads. The sense of anticipation was palpable, underscoring the significance of the occasion for a country desperate for some good news.
Pope Leo’s journey to Lebanon followed a stop in Turkiye, where he also called for peace in the Middle East. Throughout his travels, he has warned that humanity’s future is at risk from the world’s bloody conflicts, pressing leaders to pursue truth, reconciliation, and justice as the only pathway to lasting peace.
For the Lebanese, the Pope’s visit was both a balm and a challenge. He urged them not to give in to disillusionment or the “logic of violence and the idolatry of money,” but to resist resignation in the face of spreading evil. “Disarming our hearts is the only way to do this,” he insisted, calling on all Lebanese—regardless of confession or background—to be a “prophetic sign of peace” for the wider region. “This is the dream entrusted to you. It is what the God of peace places in your hands.”
As the sun set on Beirut’s waterfront and Pope Leo departed for Rome, the city’s wounds remained visible. But for a brief moment, Lebanon’s fractured society found common ground in prayer, remembrance, and the hope—however fragile—that peace and justice might one day prevail.
