Lebanon welcomes Pope Leo XIV amid weariness and moderate expectations

BeirutAfter a torrential downpour, a single beacon illuminates the runway of the military airport, where some two hundred select individuals await the arrival of Pope Leo XIV under a tent that casts little shade. On one side, people crowd together; on the other, photographers search for the best angles, while the military band rehearses and the dignitaries march past. The sound of the Vatican plane is heard before it is seen. The crowd, phones in hand, moves between nerves and anticipation. When the twenty-gun salute rings out, more than one person jumps in surprise before looking back up at the sky, half-smiling and with a racing heart.

This beginning, somewhere between ceremony and chaos, perfectly encapsulates the mood of the country: Lebanon welcomes the pontiff with moderate expectations and a weariness that permeates every conversation. In Beirut, preparations proceed amidst the usual traffic jams, checkpoints, and discussions about security and protocol. But above all that logistics weighs something simpler: the desire for a respite, however brief, amidst the crisis-ridden routine that marks daily life.

The visit comes at a delicate moment. In the south, one fragile ceasefire with Israel It maintains a constant tension; Lebanese politics remain deadlocked, the economy offers no solutions, and the population is experiencing a weariness that has become part of the landscape. In this context, every public gesture takes on disproportionate weight, and the Pope's arrival is no exception. Expectations do not point to immediate solutions or transformations.

What many hope for is something else: a sign that the country is still on the map and has not been completely abandoned. The Pope is not going to fix the crisis, but he can bring some light to a society that, for years, has been moving forward in the shadows. For a small and fractured country, external attention still matters, and for some, it is enough to hear that the world is looking here again, even if only for a few moments.

The trip's agenda combines spiritual diplomacy with gestures of political significance. The tour of symbolic places, such as the devastated port and the social centers that fill the voids left by the state, aims to remind us that, even within an overburdened religious system, a resilient human fabric persists. This idea resonates with those who have survived the succession of collapses in recent years and who, despite their weariness, continue to maintain minimal routines of community life.

The Christian community, which has lost demographic weight and presence in institutions—representing 30% of the six million inhabitants—interprets the visit as recognition. For some, it is a form of support; for others, an invitation to rethink priorities. For many, it is simply an opportunity to demonstrate unity at a time when internal divisions remain. But participation is not limited to Christian leaders; Sunni, Shia, and Druze Muslim representatives will also participate, a gesture that underscores that coexistence is not only a religious ideal but a fundamental political necessity in a country attentive to every public signal, however small.

Regaining a presence in the Middle East

In the region, the Pope's visit is understood as an attempt by the Vatican to regain a presence in the Middle East, which is currently undergoing restructuring. Syria remains fragmentedIsrael is at the center of another cycle of violence, this time in the West Bank, and the balance of power in the Gulf region is shifting rapidly. In this scenario, Lebanon once again finds itself in a vulnerable position and is exposed to tensions that overwhelm it. The Pope's presence is meant to remind everyone that the human dimension cannot be sidelined in the face of military and diplomatic logic. And even if it doesn't change the overall situation, it introduces a moment of respite in a region where respite is a luxury.

The long-awaited speech will revolve around dignity, coexistence, and the protection of the vulnerable. It will not be a classic political declaration, but rather a moral appeal to place citizens back at the heart of public discourse. But its real impact will depend on the country's internal capacity. Lebanon knows how to generate moments of collective emotion, but it rarely manages to translate them into concrete decisions. Institutional paralysis and the fragmentation of local and regional interests hinder any progress.

However, the visit offers something significant: the possibility of rebuilding, even if only for a few days, a shared narrative. It opens spaces for encounter and serves as a reminder that division is not an inevitable fate. For many Lebanese, that alone is enough. Not because it resolves the crisis, but because it restores meaning to a concept of community that is often invoked but, in practice, struggles to live.