By Emiliano Eusepi
On the occasion of the Feast of Saint Augustine in Pavia, Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa’s homily is deeply intertwined with the thought of the Bishop of Hippo. From this harmony emerges a spiritual and prophetic journey that rejects peace as merely the absence of war, instead presenting it as an order of the heart, institutional justice, and a path toward the heavenly Jerusalem.
The comparison between Augustine’s vision of peace and the words spoken by Cardinal Pizzaballa in Pavia, as well as his pastoral letter, invites us to a reflection of extraordinary depth and relevance. Both reject reducing peace to a mere absence of conflict or to a balance based on fear, interpreting it instead as a demand of conscience, a divine gift, and a pilgrimage. As Cardinal Pizzaballa recalled today while reflecting on the arrival of the Saint’s relics in Pavia: “In this pilgrimage, we already see an icon of our faith: we are pilgrims. We do not have here a permanent city, to use Augustine’s image, but we seek the one that is to come.”
For Saint Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, Christianity condemns the evils of conflict and the disordered passions that dwell in the human heart. Human beings inevitably experience an inner division, and true conversion consists above all in moving from hatred to charity. This perspective is directly reflected in Cardinal Pizzaballa’s analysis of the Holy Land, marked by deep wounds and resentments. He stated: “In the Holy City today, deep wounds, fears, resentments, desires for justice — sometimes even for revenge — and hopes that seem continually contradicted by reality coexist. Precisely there, where the Lord died and rose again, we learn that no victory of one over another can give us peace. Christian victory is of another nature.”
Cardinal Pizzaballa, following in Augustine’s footsteps, teaches that every logic of confrontation, without a radical purification of the heart, opens an abyss of violence. He highlights how, in the Holy Land, “everyone feels like a victim: Israelis are victims, Palestinians are victims, Christians are victims, and so on.” Yet in the face of such polarizations, the Augustinian warning reminds us that the Kingdom of God does not coincide with any earthly faction: the Christian “works for justice and peace, but rejects the idolatry of every power and every form of belonging. His hope is greater than any earthly victory.”
In Augustine’s thought, the Civitas Terrena and the Civitas Dei intertwine throughout history and are rooted in the interior life of the human person. As Cardinal Pizzaballa emphasizes, drawing on Augustine’s work, “two loves build two cities: love of self to the point of self-centeredness, and love of God to the point of self-giving.” These two cities, Pizzaballa recalled, “permeate the heart of every human being and the history of every people. We see this very clearly in the Holy Land: there are not simply ‘whites’ on one side and ‘blacks’ on the other; contradictions are present in the life of every community.”
Augustine’s celebrated definition of peace as the “tranquility of order” finds confirmation in the Cardinal’s call to restore relationships based on respect and compassionate justice, rejecting the logic of oppression. Precisely there, where the Lord died and rose again, we must remember the words of Augustine recalled by the Cardinal: Vicit enim in eis, qui vixit in eis — “He conquered in them who lived in them.” It is Christ who conquers when his love dwells in the human heart; when the logic of oppression is replaced by that of self-giving, revenge by forgiveness, and fear of others by the ability to recognize the other once again as a brother.
The ultimate destiny of humanity remains inscribed in eschatology and in the contemplation of the heavenly Jerusalem. Human restlessness finds fulfillment only when it is directed toward God. At the conclusion of his homily, Cardinal Pizzaballa posed a radical question to everyone: “Perhaps the deepest question that Augustine poses to the Church and to the world today is not primarily: What do you think? Which side are you on? Whom are you with? But rather: What do you love? Because it is our loves that shape the heart, relationships, societies, and conflicts as well. What do we truly love? Our security, our identity, our reasons, our victory? Or are we still capable of loving a Truth greater than ourselves, a justice that is not only for us, a peace that also includes the other? For this reason, the Church is not called first and foremost to conquer the world, but to listen to the restlessness that dwells in the hearts of the men and women of our time. In every sincere search, in every desire for truth, justice, peace, and love, there is already a trace of God calling us.”
To hold an unwavering hope that becomes prayer, and “before the relics of this great Father of the Church, we ask for the grace to become men and women with open hearts, capable of not settling for what happens and of directing our entire lives toward the One who alone can give rest to the human desire. Thus, while we walk in the city of humanity, we may already glimpse the joy of the heavenly Jerusalem: the destination of all hope and the fullness of every authentic love.”
