Dear brothers and sisters,
Just last week, the eyes of the world were on New York as presidents, prime ministers, diplomats, and representatives of nations gathered at the United Nations. They came to speak about peace, security, justice, and the future of our world. Yet as I listened to some of the speeches, I found myself wondering: Are we really listening to one another anymore? So many people speak, but often past one another. Positions become harder. Words become sharper. Everyone wants peace, yet we seem to have such difficulty taking the first steps toward it.
Within a few days, Pope Leo XIV was in France speaking about peace. He used a phrase that has stayed with me: “the disarmament of hearts and words” (Interreligious Meeting at the Robert Schuman Congress Centre, Metz, France, September 28, 2026). What a beautiful expression. We usually think of disarmament as putting down weapons. But perhaps some of the first weapons we need to put down are much closer to us: angry words, old resentments, suspicion, pride, and that constant need to prove that I am right and the other person is wrong.
How appropriate, then, that this Sunday, during the Jubilee Year marking the 800th anniversary of his death, we celebrate Saint Francis of Assisi in a special way. Eight centuries have passed since Francis died, yet his witness seems remarkably fresh for the world in which we live. His love for Christ, his closeness to the poor, his simplicity of life, and especially his desire for peace and reconciliation speak to us as urgently today as they did in his own troubled time.
Francis knew such a troubled world himself. As a young man, he dreamed of becoming a knight and went off to war. Years later, during the Fifth Crusade, while Christians and Muslims were fighting one another, Francis did something extraordinary. He crossed the battle lines to meet Sultan al-Malik al-Kamil. He went without an army and without a sword. He did not abandon his faith or pretend that their differences did not matter. He simply refused to believe that another human being had to be hated in order for Christ to be loved.
But before Francis ever crossed that battlefield, something had already happened in his own heart. He had knelt before the Crucifix of San Damiano and allowed Christ to change him. There he discovered a very different kind of power. The world gave Christ hatred; Christ answered with love. The world wounded him; Christ forgave. The world stripped him of everything; Christ gave even himself. Francis began to understand that before he could become an instrument of peace, Christ first had to bring peace into Francis himself.
I believe this is where Saint Francis speaks most directly to us today. It is easy to see what is wrong with the world. It is easy to see what another country, another political party, another generation, or even someone in our own family needs to change. Yet Jesus says in this Sunday’s Gospel, “Learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart” (Matthew 11:29). Perhaps, then, the more difficult question is not, “What is wrong with everybody else?” but “Lord, what in me still needs to change?”
Perhaps I have become too certain that I am right. Perhaps I have stopped really listening to people who see things differently. Perhaps my words are meant more to win an argument than to build peace. Perhaps I am quick to judge the motives of others while rarely questioning my own. Humility does not mean that we have no convictions. It means that even when our convictions are strong, we remain willing to listen, to learn, and to let God correct something in us.
Saint Francis understood that peace does not begin when everyone else finally changes. Peace begins when I allow Christ to change me. Perhaps this weekend, Christ is not asking us simply to admire Saint Francis, but to follow him. The world already has enough people pointing out what everyone else needs to change. What it needs are men and women humble enough to let God begin with them.
In Christ’s peace,
Msgr. “John” Cuong M. Pham