POPE LEO’S PRAYER AND CRY FOR PEACE…

I wish Pope Leo would use the Traditional altar arrangement. It is clean, uncluttered and symmetrical.

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Reflection by the Holy Father Leo XIV during the Prayer Vigil for Peace

Dear brothers and sisters,

Your prayer is an expression of that faith which, according to the words of Jesus, moves mountains (cf. Mt 17:20). Thank you for having accepted this invitation, gathering here—by the tomb of Saint Peter, and in so many other places throughout the world—to invoke peace. War divides; hope unites. Arrogance tramples; love uplifts. Idolatry blinds; the living God enlightens. All that is needed is a little faith—a mere crumb of faith, dearest ones—to face this dramatic hour of history together, as humanity and with humanity. Prayer, in fact, is not a refuge to escape our responsibilities, nor is it an anesthetic to numb the pain unleashed by such great injustice. Rather, it is the most gratuitous, universal, and transformative response to death: we are a people already rising again! Within each of us—within every human being—the inner Master, in truth, teaches peace, impels us toward encounter, and inspires our supplication. Let us, then, lift up our gaze! Let us rise again from the rubble! Nothing can confine us within a destiny already written—not even in this world where graves seem insufficient to hold the dead, for life continues to be crucified and annihilated, without right and without mercy.

Saint John Paul II, an untiring witness to peace, spoke with deep emotion during the Iraqi crisis of 2003, declaring: “I belong to that generation which lived through the Second World War and survived it. I have a duty to say to all young people—to those younger than myself who have not had this experience: ‘Never again war!’—just as Paul VI proclaimed during his first visit to the United Nations. We must do everything in our power! We know full well that peace at any cost is not possible.” “But we all know how great this responsibility is” (Angelus, March 16, 2003). This evening, I make his appeal—so relevant today—my own.

Prayer teaches us how to act. In prayer, limited human possibilities join with the infinite possibilities of God. Thoughts, words, and deeds then shatter the demonic chain of evil and place themselves at the service of the Kingdom of God—a Kingdom where there is no sword, no drone, no vengeance, no trivialization of evil, and no unjust gain, but only dignity, understanding, and forgiveness. Here we find a bulwark against that delusion of omnipotence which, all around us, is becoming increasingly unpredictable and aggressive. The balances within the human family have been gravely destabilized. Even the holy Name of God—the God of life—is dragged into discourses of death. A world of brothers and sisters sharing a single Father in heaven then vanishes, and—as in a nightmare—reality becomes populated by enemies. Everywhere, one senses threats rather than calls to listen and to encounter one another. Brothers and sisters, those who pray are conscious of their own limitations; they do not kill, nor do they threaten death. Conversely, those who have turned their backs on the living God become enslaved to death, making of themselves—and of their own power—that mute, blind, and deaf idol (cf. Ps 115:4-8) to which they sacrifice every value, demanding that the entire world bow the knee before it.

Enough with the idolatry of self and of money! Enough with the display of force! Enough with war! True strength is manifested in serving life. Saint John XXIII, with evangelical simplicity, wrote: “From peace, everyone derives benefit: individuals, families, nations, and the entire human family.” And, echoing the trenchant words of Pius XII, he added: “Nothing is lost by peace. Everything may be lost by war” (Encyclical *Pacem in terris*, 62). Let us, therefore, unite the moral and spiritual energies of millions—billions—of men and women, of the elderly and the young, who today believe in peace, who today choose peace, and who tend to the wounds and repair the damage left behind by the folly of war. I receive many letters from children in conflict zones; reading them, one perceives—with the truthfulness of innocence—the full horror and inhumanity of actions that some adults boast of with pride. Let us listen to the voice of the children!

Dear brothers and sisters, certainly there are inescapable responsibilities incumbent upon the leaders of nations. To them, we cry out: Stop! It is time for peace! Sit at the tables of dialogue and mediation, not at tables where rearmament is planned and actions of death are deliberated! Yet, no less great is the responsibility resting upon all of us—men and women from so many different countries: an immense multitude that repudiates war through deeds, not merely through words. Prayer calls us to convert whatever remains of violence within our hearts and minds; let us convert ourselves to a Kingdom of peace that is built day by day—in our homes, in our schools, in our neighborhoods, and within our civil and religious communities—reclaiming ground from polemics and resignation through friendship and a culture of encounter. Let us return to believing in love, in moderation, and in good politics. Let us prepare ourselves and commit ourselves personally, each responding to their own vocation. Everyone has their place in the mosaic of peace!

The Rosary, like other ancient forms of prayer, has united us this evening in its steady rhythm, grounded in repetition: thus, peace carves out its space—word after word, gesture after gesture—just as a rock is hollowed out drop by drop, or as weaving progresses on a loom, movement after movement. These are the long rhythms of life, a sign of God’s patience. We need to resist being swept away by the frenetic pace of a world that no longer knows what it is chasing, so that we may return to serving the rhythm of life and the harmony of creation, and to tending to their wounds. As Pope Francis has taught us, "there is a need for artisans of peace, willing to initiate processes of healing and renewed encounter with ingenuity and boldness" (Encyclical *Fratelli tutti*, 225). Indeed, there is "an 'architecture' of peace, in which the various institutions of society play their part, each according to its own competence; yet there is also an 'artisanship' of peace that involves us all" (ibid., 231).

Dear brothers and sisters, let us return home with this commitment to pray always, without growing weary, and with a resolve for a profound conversion of heart. The Church is a great people at the service of reconciliation and peace, moving forward without faltering—even when rejecting the logic of war may cost it misunderstanding and scorn. It proclaims the Gospel of peace and teaches us to obey God rather than men, especially when the infinite dignity of other human beings is at stake—a dignity jeopardized by continuous violations of international law. "Throughout the world, it is to be hoped that every community may become a 'home of peace,' where hostility is learned to be defused through dialogue, where justice is practiced, and where forgiveness is cherished." "Today, more than ever, in fact, we must demonstrate that peace is not a utopia" (Message for the 59th World Day of Peace, January 1, 2026).

Brothers and sisters of every language, people, and nation: we are one single family—one that weeps, that hopes, and that rises again. "Never again war, an adventure without return; never again war, a spiral of mourning and violence" (St. John Paul II, Prayer for Peace, February 2, 1991).

Dearest friends, may peace be with you all! It is the peace of the Risen Christ, the fruit of His sacrifice of love upon the Cross. For this reason, we address our supplication to Him:

Lord Jesus,

You conquered death without weapons or violence;

You dissolved its power through the strength of peace.

Grant us Your peace—

just as You did to the women, uncertain on Easter morning,

and to the disciples, hidden away and afraid.

Send forth Your Spirit—

the breath that gives life, that reconciles,

and that transforms adversaries and enemies into brothers and sisters.

Inspire in us the trust of Mary, Your Mother,

who, with a heart torn by grief, stood beneath Your Cross,

steadfast in the faith that You would rise again.

May the madness of war come to an end,

and may the Earth be healed and tended by those who still

know how to bring forth life, how to cherish it, and how to love it.

Hear us, Lord of Life!