Only 3 Christian villages in southern Lebanon remain inhabited

Three Christian villages in southern Lebanon remain cut off as Israeli forces block access, amid destruction, shortages, and fragile ceasefire.

Newsroom (22/04/2026 Gaudium Press ) In the scarred landscape of southern Lebanon, where entire towns have been reduced to rubble, three villages stand as fragile exceptions. Rmeish, Debel, and Ain Ebel—small Christian enclaves near the Litani River—remain largely intact, their buildings still standing, their population still present. But survival has come at a cost: isolation.

Across 55 villages in the region, Israeli forces have been systematically demolishing what remained after weeks of intense bombardment—public buildings, schools, and private homes flattened by bulldozers and heavy machinery. Military authorities have also barred displaced residents from returning, sealing off a vast stretch of territory now marked in red on maps released by the Israel Defense Forces (IDF). The message is clear: this is a new line of control, and any attempt to approach it carries serious risk.

Yet within this restricted zone, the residents of Rmeish, Debel, and Ain Ebel have neither fled nor been able to leave. Whether by choice or circumstance, they remain trapped. “There is no access,” says Father Tony Elias, Maronite vice parish priest of Rmeish. “All the roads are blocked. We are struggling to bring in water, milk for infants, and fuel.”

Communication itself is uncertain. When Vatican media manage to reach him by phone, Father Elias speaks cautiously—“today the line holds, but tomorrow, who knows.” Just hours earlier, vehicles from the International Red Cross had entered the village, evacuating critically ill patients to Beirut. Some residents, needing to reach the capital for university or work, managed to leave discreetly, hidden within these humanitarian movements. It is a workaround fraught with danger, one of the few ways out.

Inside the villages, concern is mounting. The most urgent need is medicine. “We need many types,” Father Elias explains. “There are people with serious conditions like cancer and diabetes. The medications are extremely urgent.” For the roughly 2,000 Christian families across the three villages, a single question echoes: how long can they endure?

Food supplies—rice and flour—still sustain daily life, but for how much longer remains unclear. A handful of shops continue operating, purifying rainwater to make it drinkable. These improvised systems underscore both resilience and fragility. “Faith is there; prayer is there; the people’s patience has not yet dissolved,” Father Elias reflects. “But for how long?”

His question extends beyond immediate survival. How long before a ceasefire becomes meaningful? Before it evolves into a genuine peace? At 43 years old, he has already lived through at least four wars, most of them in southern Lebanon. “Our people now want those in power—even in our own nation—to understand that the time of weapons has passed.”

Beyond the boundaries of these three villages, the devastation is nearly total. Father Elias speaks with particular anguish about neighboring Shiite Muslim communities who, following the ceasefire, attempted to return home. What they found was not recovery, but erasure.

“They tried to go back, but what they saw were empty zones, like hundreds of football fields,” he says. The nearby town of Ayta al-Shaab, once only steps from Rmeish, has been completely obliterated. “It no longer exists. I don’t know if it was destroyed by bombs or bulldozers. I only know that not one stone remains upon another.”

From within his confined village, surrounded by destruction he can neither escape nor prevent, Father Elias directs an appeal not only to political leaders but also to Hezbollah, the Iran-backed Shiite armed group. “Lay down your weapons,” he urges. “Let only the Lebanese army control the territory. Today, almost all villages in the south have been destroyed. What were your weapons for?”

His voice, marked by exhaustion but not resignation, returns to a single plea: “Now is the time for dialogue. The hour for peace.”

• Raju Hasmukh with files from Vatican News

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