Priest’s death in Lebanon brings war to a community that wanted peace

QLAYAA, Lebanon — When Father Pierre al-Rahi’s coffin arrived at the congregation he served, the bells rang, their sound obscuring the sound of the Israeli drone overhead.
Just a few days earlier, Al-Rahi had stood in the churchyard where crowds had gathered for his funeral on Wednesday. He announced that the people of Qlayaa would ignore Israeli evacuation orders to Southern Lebanon and remain there.
“He gave us the strength to put down roots here. He kept repeating, ‘We’re staying,'” said resident Eveline Farah, 67.
Farah added that he was a man of his word. When an Israeli tank shell hit a house in the village on Monday, Al-Rahi and others rushed to the aid of the elderly couple living there.
A Lebanese soldier stands next to a poster of the village’s priest, Father Pierre al-Rahi, during a funeral service in the Christian Lebanese border village of Qlayaa on March 11, 2026.
(Rabih Daher / AFP/Getty Images)
That’s when the second shell hit, wounding Al-Rahi and five others. He bled to death later that day, bringing the latest fighting between Israel and Hezbollah’s Islamist militants to Qlayaa, one of the few Christian-majority areas in southern Lebanon. It’s a war no one wants here.
“No one is fighting in Qlayaa. There is no Hezbollah here. Let them just want to fight. This has nothing to do with us,” said Najla Farah, 39, a distant relative of Eveline Farah.
As the funeral procession approached the churchyard, a group of women threw rose petals and rice. Others were running towards the coffin, dancing, clapping, howling; all with tears.
“Get up, Father Pierre. Get up!” shouted an old woman as she stood in the path of the pallbearers, her screams drowning out her voice as she partially collapsed in the arms of a doctor.
“You’re not one to move!” he said. “No one can carry you!”
More than a week into the escalation of hostilities between Iran-backed Hezbollah and Israel, the war many Lebanese had hoped to avoid is intensifying, bringing devastation to communities that have largely managed to stay on the sidelines in the past.
Lebanese government health officials said on Wednesday that 634 people, including 47 women and 91 children, have been killed in the country since March 2, when Hezbollah fired rockets at Israel and spurred an all-out Israeli offensive. Approximately 816,000 people were displaced.
Despite the gravity of these figures, before Al-Rahi’s death many here in Qlayaa had settled into a routine brought on by long familiarity with the conflict.
After all, approximately 4,000 people living here survived the fire that broke out between Hezbollah and Israel in 2024. Although most of the towns and villages around them were effectively under Hezbollah control, the Qlayaa – like other Christian, Sunni Muslim and Druze communities in the idyllic hills of southern Lebanon – had taken a resolutely neutral position. These communities prevented Hezbollah fighters from taking up positions in their areas, and therefore Israel did not target them.
An Israeli airstrike hit Dahiyeh in the southern suburbs of Beirut on March 11, 2026.
(Hassan Ammar / Associated Press)
This rhythm continued after the ceasefire came into force in late 2024, with Hezbollah disarmed in the south and the Lebanese army taking control of the region. Meanwhile, Israeli troops were still occupying parts of the south, and the Israeli army was launching almost daily attacks that it said were aimed at stopping Hezbollah’s efforts to regroup.
The sounds of artillery, air strikes and drones blended into the background noise in Qlayaa, less than three miles from Lebanon’s border with Israel.
Najla Farah said “everything felt normal” after Hezbollah launched a campaign to avenge the killing of Iranian Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei on February 28 and Israel issued unprecedented evacuation orders for the entirety of southern Lebanon shortly after.
“We even had our wedding on Sunday. It seemed less intense than the war until it happened to Father Pierre,” he said.
On Wednesday, Pope Leo XIV paid tribute to Al-Rahi in his weekly address. He noted that the word “Rahi” means “shepherd” in Arabic and that Al-Rahi was a “true priest” who rushed to help injured parishioners “without hesitation.”
“Let the blood shed be the seed of peace for our beloved Lebanon,” Leo said. “I stand with all the Lebanese people in this serious case,” he said.
But the consolation these words provided to the Qlayaa community was diminished by the confusion felt over Al-Rahi’s murder.
Avichay Adraee, the Israeli army’s Arabic-speaking spokesman, said Israeli soldiers deployed a drone to “kill a Hezbollah terrorist cell in a Christian village in southern Lebanon” but did not provide details about its location.
Neighborhood residents said that the house, located near the outskirts of Qlayaa, belonged to a retired teacher and his wife, who were in the kitchen at the time of the attack. The Lebanese army said the attacks involved two Merkava tank shells and that there was no Hezbollah presence in the area.
“Why hit it the first time? OK, why hit it again?” said St. Father Antonius Eid-Farah, pastor of St. George Parish and assistant to Al-Rahi.
Eid-Farah (no relation to Eveline and Najla Farah) reflected a common sentiment in the town that Al-Rai’s death had only galvanized the people’s determination to stay.
He said Christians in the town rely on their churches. Also, if they left Qlayaa, where would they go?
“To the streets?” he asked. “How can they provide for their families?”
But there was a sense of frustration among many here, underscored by growing anger not only at Hezbollah but also at the Lebanese government that has failed to neutralize the group and halt its ability to wage war. When the head of the Lebanese army arrived at the funeral, some of those present heckled him and did not allow the ceremony to continue until he left.
“Is he coming now? Why is he here instead of protecting us from bullets and missiles?” Chawline Maroun, a 23-year-old student whose home in the nearby village of Kfar Kila was destroyed in the fighting, said: He has since moved back in with his family in Qlayaa.
He asked when the Lebanese army would actually fight. “When will the war end?” he said.
Maroun said Qlayaa was not only vulnerable to Israeli attacks, but was also hit by Hezbollah rockets that misfired or failed to reach their targets.
“We Lebanese, who do not want this war, are being hit from both sides here,” he said.
As Israel pushes deeper into Lebanon, fears are growing that Qlayaa will suffer the same fate as the border Christian village of Alma al-Shaab, whose remaining residents were evacuated this week after a villager was killed.
The buffer zone plans would ensure that Qlayaa would come under Israeli control; this was a repeat of the past, when the village was controlled by the South Lebanon Army, a Christian-led militia armed and financed by Israel during its 18-year occupation.
Some would welcome this suggestion.


