Peace is a word we use easily — in greetings, in prayers, in New Year’s wishes — but far harder to live when life feels tense, loud, or divided. Peace can feel like something reserved for diplomats or distant conflicts, not something that belongs in kitchens, inboxes, or family conversations. And yet, in his message for the World Day of Peace, and in many other instances, Pope Leo gently insists otherwise.
The Holy Father speaks of an “unarmed and disarming peace.”
He isn’t offering a political slogan or abstract theology. He’s describing a way of living — one that touches how you respond to conflict, how you speak when you’re hurt, and how you choose to remain open when closing off would feel safer. It’s a vision of peace that doesn’t begin on the world stage, but in the human heart.
At first, the phrase may sound unfamiliar, even unsettling. What does it mean for peace to be unarmed? And how can peace be disarming without being naïve or passive?
Pope Leo’s message invites you to slow down and look more closely — because these two qualities reveal a peace that is not weak, but deeply courageous, and surprisingly practical for everyday life.
The source of the phrase?
In the introduction to a book of his speeches, The Power of the Gospel: Christian Faith in 10 Words, the Pope refers to one of the monks martyred in Algeria in 1996.
On Christmas Eve, 1995, armed men entered the monastery and the monks experienced “a close encounter with terrorists.”
The Pope recounts what happened next:
“Asking himself which prayer he could address to the Lord after such a difficult trial, speaking of those who had violently invaded the monastery, he wrote the following: ‘Do I have the right to ask, "disarm him," if I do not begin by asking: "Disarm me and disarm us in the community? Now this is my prayer which I confide to you in all simplicity."’”
Unarmed peace: choosing not to escalate
An unarmed peace is not passive or weak. It simply refuses to escalate.
In everyday life, this kind of peace shows up in small but costly decisions: choosing not to fire back in a heated conversation; resisting the urge to reply immediately to a sharp message; stepping away instead of doubling down. It’s the decision to put down the emotional “weapons” — sarcasm, raised voices, silent treatment — even when you feel justified in using them.
Pope Leo reminds us that Christ Himself offered peace without force. He didn’t defend Himself with power, but with love and truth, and sometimes silence. An unarmed peace trusts that dignity and goodness don’t need aggression to survive — even when they feel vulnerable.
At home, this might look like apologizing first. At work, it might mean refusing to fuel gossip. Online, it might mean not sharing content designed to provoke outrage. These choices don’t always feel satisfying in the moment — but they keep peace alive.
Disarming peace: softening the heart
If unarmed peace is about what you refuse to use, disarming peace is about what you let go of, allowing the seeds you plant to grow on their own.
This is the harder work — the interior one. Disarming peace asks you to loosen your grip on resentment, fear, and the need to control outcomes. It means listening when you’d rather interrupt, staying curious instead of defensive, and allowing yourself to be moved by another’s pain.
In family life, disarming peace may look like hearing what’s beneath someone’s anger. In friendships, it may mean choosing patience over pride. In moments of disagreement, it’s the willingness to say, “Help me understand,” rather than, “I’m right.”
Pope Leo’s message makes clear that peace cannot take root where hearts remain armed. Before peace can exist between people or nations, it must exist within the human heart.
Peace as a daily practice, not a distant goal
What Pope Leo proposes isn’t an ideal reserved for saints or diplomats. It’s a daily practice — lived imperfectly, often quietly, sometimes invisibly.
An unarmed and disarming peace won’t always resolve conflicts quickly. But it creates space for grace to work. It keeps relationships from breaking beyond repair. And it slowly reshapes the atmosphere around you — in your home, your parish, your community.
And now that the Jubilee Year of Hope has drawn to a close, this message feels especially timely. Hope doesn’t survive through force or control. It survives when hearts remain open.
Peace, Pope Leo reminds us, is not something you wait for. It’s something you practice — one disarmed response at a time.
