The Church leads us to Calvary, not to dwell on suffering, but to learn from Christ what it truly means to reign. In a time marked by war, fear, and division, the cross shows us that peace is not merely a pleasant idea, but a Paschal journey that passes through the truth.
Jesus’ kingship is not domination. He says this plainly to Pilate: “My kingdom does not belong to this world….I came into the world to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”
This is the crucial point: Christ is not proclaiming a theory. The truth is made visible in His life—in His silence, in His obedience, and in His self-offering upon the cross. He does not impose or coerce: he testifies.
Pilate stands before Jesus, sensing His innocence, but remains a prisoner of fear and pressure. Pilate knows he has a choice, and yet he does not fully choose the truth. He seeks compromise and half measures, he even tries to wash his hands of the matter. Still, that gesture does not free him: the responsibility remains.
This is a passage that speaks directly to us. We can recognize what is good and not follow it. We can see the truth and remain neutral. However, neutrality in the face of injustice does not save.
Even the inscription on the cross—“King of the Jews”—remains unchanged. Pilate does not alter it. It is as if he stopped halfway. He intuited something but lacked the courage to embrace the truth.
Christ, however, does not back down. The cross shows us that real power is not the kind that crushes, but the kind that remains faithful to the truth and thus saves.
This is the source of Christian peace. Christian peace is not a mere wish; it is a real gift: “Peace be with you.” It is the peace of the Risen One that is capable of transforming hearts and, through hearts, the world.
This is the peace we are called to understand today: a “disarmed and disarming” peace. It does not come from calculating forces; it comes from God. It is a gift “from above,” but it is not passive: it must be welcomed, protected, and lived out.
Thus, it is not naïve. It is a peace that resists violence without imitating it. It is a humble and persevering strength that rejects the mindset of fear and intimidation.
All the same, the Gospel warns us: when the truth is set aside, peace weakens. When one’s conscience is silenced, aggression grows—in relationships, in families, in society—until it seems normal.
Then, the cross poses a personal question: What am I fostering in my heart? Peace or resentment? Truth or convenience?
Indeed, peace is not merely an «external» matter, some political or international issue. Peace is born within and becomes a word, an action, and a way of life.
Our Christian faith is very concrete on this point: we must do everything possible to avoid war. Even in the midst of conflict, moral law remains valid. “Anything goes” is not permissible—ever. Peace demands consistent choices, not just good intentions.
Thus we learn: Truth is not some detail. It is what prevents justice from degrading into vengeance and peace from becoming empty compromise.
This peace, moreover, does not only concern relationships between people, it concerns all of life: peace with God, peace among human beings, and peace with creation. It is a reconciliation that embraces everything.
How, then, can we live it out in a concrete way?
First, we must welcome peace as a gift. We cannot build it on our own. It must be asked for, received, and protected.
Second, we must seek the truth without giving in to vengeance. Justice without reconciliation becomes harshness; peace without truth becomes illusion.
Finally: we must practice concrete disarmament, in our words, our judgments, and our reactions. Sometimes this means listening more, speaking with greater truth and breaking the cycle of aggression. As far as possible, it means supporting what prevents conflict and builds bridges.
These are simple but demanding choices. There is always the temptation to settle for “half measures”: speaking from a distance without truly changing. However, washing our hands of the matter will not wash our consciences.
Today, standing before the cross, we know that Jesus is king because he testifies to the truth. The trial with Pilot warns us: We can recognize what is good and not choose it; we can try to evade responsibility and still remain responsible.
However, Christ remains unbroken. His fidelity opens a path: a humble, persevering, disarmed and disarming peace, capable of overcoming evil without reproducing it.
Let us then ask for the grace to truly listen to his voice, not to belong to falsehood, and to become—in our own small way—peacemakers, spreading peace founded on truth, justice, and mercy.
Amen.
Rome, April 3, 2026
Cardinal Dominique Joseph MATHIEU, OFM Conv.
