SHALOM

 

Peace in hearts

 and intentions,

 a perennial

 novelty 

in history

This is the transcript of the conference by Don Claudio Doglio "Peace in hearts and intentions, perennial novelty in history" held at the Seminary in Casale on April 14, 2026 as part of the Cantiere Speranza meetings.

Peace is a gift of the risen Christ. In particular, the evangelist John places this fundamental greeting on the lips of the Risen One, when he meets the disciples in the Upper Room: "Peace be with you." This formula is repeated three times in the space of a few verses. In chapter 20, the evangelist John recounts his encounters with the Risen One. He repeats this formula twice: on Easter Sunday itself and then, eight days later, always to the same group, in the same setting. The new meeting, also attended by Thomas, is inaugurated by this greeting, which has become a way of introducing the liturgies. The bishops, in particular, greet the assembly with this formula of the risen Christ: "Peace be with you." It could be a simple Semitic greeting, as Jews and Arabs have the custom of greeting each other with the word shalom or salam, both of which mean peace. But, as often happens, the familiar words we use in our family repertoire lose their meaning for those who use them. They no longer think about it. Foreigners notice this when they note the meaning of the various terms.

Thus, that "peace be with you," spoken by the risen Christ to his disciples, could be a banal "good evening." Instead, from the evangelist's perspective, it has a decidedly greater significance. It is the gift the Risen One brings to the community, offering them the condition of messianic well-being. Peace, in the view of the ancient prophets, was a gift from the Messiah, humanity's condition upon the coming of the Messiah. The messianic condition. Unfortunately, we have fallen into the habit of defining or evaluating peace as the absence of war, giving it a negative description, and periods of peace are considered the intervals between one war and another.

Meanwhile, peace, from the biblical perspective, is the fullness of life. The Hebrew root, the three consonants that make up the word shalom, evoke fulfillment, completeness. Therefore, peace is the fullness of life. It is the fulfillment of existence. It is not tranquility, nor a quiet life, nor the absence of problems, but it is the fullness of life, the richness of existence. The term that perhaps best comes close to this concept is well-being. Here too, the term has become habitual, and so we lose its strong meaning. Let's try to write it by separating the two terms well-being . Well-being is the condition of someone who is well, of someone who is good, of someone who has a fullness of goodness. Peace , therefore, is the fulfillment of the human being in relation to others and therefore, it is the sum of good relationships. Because we know that our humanity is precisely characterized by being a relationship. The person is a subsisting relationship, but relationships are often not good.

There is a hymn in the liturgy that celebrates Christ's Paschal victory and recalls these three dimensions of peace, saying: "Peace between heaven and earth, peace among all peoples, peace in our hearts." These are three fundamental dimensions: the human person's relationship with God, the interpersonal relationship between people, and the relationship with oneself. Well-being involves this threefold good relationship: man as a friend of God, a friend of others, and reconciled with himself. We realize that, if peace is this reality, so full and great, it is not the fruit of our efforts, it is not humanly possible. And indeed, we affirm that peace is a gift from above and is the gift of the Risen One. It is precisely the Easter event that brought about a significant change in human history, making possible what was humanly impossible. “Jesus came, stood in their midst and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’ He does not enter, he comes, the doors are closed and Christ comes. It is the coming, it is the pa πα ρουσί α ( parousía ), it is the presence of the Risen One who stands, alive and well, in the midst. It is not a geographical description, but a theological reference: he is in the midst of the community, he is at the center of the group of disciples. He comes, he stands and speaks and offers this gift of peace. He shows his hands and sides. Not his wounds. Unfortunately, there is a bad habit of speaking about the wounds of the Risen One. The Risen One has no wounds, they are healed. Wounds are wounds that do not heal. The Risen One has the marks of the nails and the marks are scars that indicate a healed wound. They are there, it is a historical fact that has left its mark on the divinity. But they are healed, they no longer kill and they no longer hurt. They are the signs of a love that went so far as to give one's life. "And the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord."

The encounter with the Lord produces joy. Seeing the Lord is joy. St. Thomas helps us define gaudium as the presentia boni amati. What is joy? It takes a genius to define it in so few words. It is the presence of the beloved good. When the good we love is present, we are happy. If the beloved good is the supreme good and is God himself and we feel His presence, that is Christian joy, that is gaudium, the contentment that becomes peace, because it fulfills the person. It is the encounter with the risen Lord that makes the disciples happy. Welcoming the gift of peace fills their lives because the Lord is present and is loved and is the supreme good. Jesus said to them again: "Peace be with you; as the Father has sent me, so I send you." Peace, which is given to the disciples as a gift, becomes a task. The Germans play on the term gabe , which means gift, present, but in composition, aufgabe , becomes commitment, duty, service. The gift is a commitment. The gift of peace, as the fulfillment of life, as the fullness of good relationships, becomes a task the disciples receive; it is the mandate. What was entrusted to Jesus is now entrusted to the disciples; the work of salvation accomplished by Jesus continues through the mediation of the disciples. Precisely because they are people who have received peace, they can be bearers of peace. People fulfilled by the encounter with the Lord, conqueror of death, an encounter that enables the disciples to continue the work of forgiving sins. That is, filling the void. Here too, it is a widespread image that leads us to see sin as a stain, something extra , something added. It has somewhat distorted our vision of sin. Because, in reality, sin is a lack, a void, a non-existence, an incapacity, a powerlessness. Therefore, the gift of peace fills the void of human powerlessness.

Sin is the condition of man who cannot cope, who is unable to succeed. (Peace) It is therefore the overcoming of impotence and becomes a gift that fills life, and that divine presence (the Father, the Son, and the Spirit) makes good, fulfilling relationships possible for the human person in all directions. “Having said this, he blew,” ἐνεφύσησεν ( enephýsēsen ), a rare verb used only here and recurring in Genesis 2, in the Septuagint translation, when the creation of man is recounted by saying that God, after forming man from the dust of the ground, breathed into his nostrils the breath of life. The exact same verb: ἐν-εφύσησεν is the breath of life within. That Easter evening, the Risen One completes the creation of humanity and breathes on these new Adams who are the disciples. It is the new humanity recreated by Christ's Passover: they have received that breath of life that allows them to fill humanity's void and bring peace. In the environment where at least the last part of the Gospel according to John was written , the theme of peace was particularly felt.

John completed his work in Ephesus at the end of the first century, and the Ephesian environment was a lively one of intellectual exploration, full of problems and potential deviations. But it was also a vibrant one, and many similarities can be noted between the early works and the other Ephesian writings, the Letter to the Ephesians and the Letter to the Colossians. Indeed, the theme of peace is addressed in these two writings with some very important affirmations.

In the letter to the Colossians, chapter 3, verse 15, we find the only occurrence in the entire New Testament of the expression " the peace of Christ ." In many of the greetings, the apostle wishes "grace and peace from God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ," but the expression "the peace of Christ" is found only once in this text of Colossians and is accompanied by a strange and rare verb: βραβ ευέτω ( brabeueto ). It is a future imperative; in Italian it is translated as "regni," meaning "may the peace of Christ reign in your hearts." The Vulgate translation was: "pax Christi exultet in cordibus. " vestris ”. Why this difference? One thing is to reign, another is to exult. The verb βραβ εύω ( brabeúō ) is a sporting verb, it is the verb of the referee and the referee is the one who gives the rules, manages a match, so that things go according to the pre-established canons, but it also indicates the winner's prize: βραβ εῖον ( brabeion ) in Greek is the prize. There is the Latin calque brabium and so what does that verb mean? A regal reference was thought of starting from the referee who controls and therefore the peace of Christ is a bit of a “controller” of your life, but there is also the other dimension: “The peace of Christ could be the prize that leaps for joy in your hearts”.

In my opinion, this second nuance is preferable, because the purpose of Christ's peace is not to reign, dominate, or arbitrate, but rather the exultation of those who have won the prize. It is a specific verb that indicates the enthusiastic joy of those who have won the race: Christ's peace is the gift the Risen One brings to the hearts of believers, and this new reality creates a state of exultation, joy, and contentment, precisely because it is the fulfillment of fundamental relationships. In the letter to the Ephesians, we find another key expression for our theme. In chapter 2, verse 14, the author says: "He," that is, Christ , "is our peace." Here, the theological formulation is even more advanced, because peace is not identified with something Christ hands out as if it were a gift. Already in Colossians, speaking of Christ's peace, we can understand it as: "Christ, who is peace, rejoices in the hearts of believers." But here, in Ephesians, it is even more explicit: it doesn't say that Jesus makes peace, but is peace. Very important. It should be considered carefully because it communicates a profound message: Jesus is peace in person. Just as the evangelist John says that Jesus is in person the logos (logos), just as he is personally the alezeia ( alezeia ), the truth, he doesn't say words, he is the word; he doesn't communicate the truth, but he is the truth; he doesn't show the way, but he is the way; he doesn't make peace, but he is peace. Put all the various details together and you have an important Christological picture.

But what does it mean that Jesus is peace in person? "Because he is the one who made the two one, breaking down the dividing wall of enmity that divided them." And how did he break down that wall? Through his flesh. It seems like a simple phrase, but it isn't. The two are God and man, and in Jesus the two have become one. It's a Christological formula that will be developed in subsequent centuries when, with the Ecumenical Councils , the two natures of Christ in the one person were formulated. But here is the core: Jesus is one of two, he is man and God, but not like a centaur, half man and half horse. Half man and half God. He is the union (today they say "hypostatic") of God and man; divinity and humanity have become one in him. This is why he is peace: the fundamental relationship is that of man with God, and it is impossible for man to build it given the enmity. Enmity is the breakdown of a relationship, the state of two people who no longer speak to each other, who have burned their bridges and are unable to rebuild their fundamental relationship with God. The problem with enmity lies precisely in the fact that man perceives God as an enemy. Having turned against God, he now fears him and perceives him as an adversary.

 

Original sin is that act of mistrust that led humanity to think of God as an enemy. It's the serpent's thought: "It's not true that by disobeying God you will die, God lies." And why does he lie? "Because he's envious, he doesn't want you to be like him." The serpent's thought is to present God as an enemy who deceives you because he wants your harm: "Do what you want, if you want your own good, do what you have in mind and don't trust God." This is the first step. From thought comes sight, and from sight comes desire, and humanity rebels, breaking the original friendship, losing the garden that is the environment of friendship, of sharing. It's a symbolic language that serves precisely to recall this profound dimension of humanity that has become hostile to God. Not because God considers it an enemy, but because humanity considers God an enemy. It's a common thread in all literature: the gods are envious. Herodotus, a good historian, finds no other criterion to explain the downfall of great kingdoms than the envy of the gods . When a kingdom functions well, the gods are envious and make it pay for it, and how many times have we said things like this: "We're doing too well, the Lord is making us pay for it," or when someone says, "Yes , yes, I'm in good health, let's say it quietly," unconsciously there's the idea that if he hears me feeling too good, he'll send me something, so let's not let him know we're fine. We don't think these things, however, unconsciously we continue to carry with us the instinct that God is dangerous, that he can do harm. This is the wall of separation, it's that enmity that blocks the relationship.

How did Jesus, through his flesh, break down the wall of enmity? Precisely through the cross. There, Jesus, as God, allows humanity to do everything he can without reacting, without responding with violence to violence. A God who allows himself to be massacred in that way shows you that he does not wish you harm. And that very fundamental gesture of the cross becomes the demonstration of the God who is for you and desires your good. In his flesh, through his cross, he broke down the wall of separation, he eliminated enmity. In this way, he transcended the law of prescriptions and decrees and created in himself a single new man from the two. In this case, the two are the two peoples, because, in the Jewish mentality, the world is divided into two groups: Jews and all others.

So the two are the Jews, the chosen people, and the rest of the world. Paul summarizes: Jews and Greeks. The two become in themselves one new man. Jesus is the new man who transcends the distinction between Jews and Greeks, who transcends distinctions and separations and creates a new, reconciled humanity. Jesus is the new man who, within himself, has made peace with God, with men, and within himself. In this sense, he has made peace. Notice the passage: first he says, "It is our peace," then he adds, "He has made peace."

He is in excellent relationship and is capable of making us peaceful, reconciled. He came to proclaim peace to you who were far away,” he speaks to the Ephesians, Greeks, “and peace to those who were near”—the Jews, those who were within the history of salvation, need to be reconciled. Those who were distant and outside the biblical tradition equally need to be reconciled.

Thus, all these criteria of human division are overcome. Through him, we can present ourselves to the Father in one spirit. This is the framework of peace. It is the possible realization of a good relationship with the divine persons. It is the creation of a humanity capable of good deeds.

Let's return to John. What the Risen One says to the disciples on Easter Sunday is the fulfillment of the promise he had made during the supper. In the Gospel of John, chapter 14, verse 27, Jesus says to the disciples: "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you, not as the world gives, I give to you." This clarification is very important: two different verbs, " I leave" and "I give." The verb translated as " to leave" is the same verb we use in the Lord's Prayer and translate as "forgive," aphíēmi : to let go. It is therefore synonymous with the forgiveness of sins. "Peace I leave with you" means: I communicate to you what is lacking, I accomplish for you the forgiveness of sins, I fill the void of your inability, and I give you my peace. These are very important expressions; they are fundamental. We have seen in Colossians: the peace of Christ; Ephesians: he is our peace; and now in John where it says, "I give you my peace." Therefore, peace is closely connected to the person of Christ. It is not simple tranquility, it is not a quiet life or the absence of war, but it is the mature connotation of the person of Christ in good relationship with God, with humanity, and with himself. I do not give you peace as the world says: good evening, good morning, best wishes, shalom, salam, that is, in a banal way. I truly give you peace. Here we are in a sacramental discourse: Jesus says and does what he says. When we define the sacraments, we say that they are effective signs of grace, that is, they do what they mean. And Jesus gives peace effectively, communicating a change in the person. He communicates his relational capacity to his disciples. So do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. "I go away and I come." Unfortunately, it has been translated as "I return." There is no idea of returning; there is never any reference to Christ's return. Much less the future. Verse 28 has been translated as "I go away and I will return to you." Ὑπ άγω καὶ ἔρχομ αι are two presents: I go and I come. How many times have we said it, a familiar phrase. When do you say an expression like that? When you think you'll be away for a short time, it's a quick exit: I go and I come. It's a fundamental phrase of Jesus: I go and I come. I go where? To the Father and I come? To you. They seem like two opposite things: I go to the Father and then I will return to you. No, that's not it.

Going to the Father coincides with coming to you. There's never any mention of Jesus' return. If you find it in the Italian texts, know that it's a poor translation. The original texts never mention the concept of return.

The liturgy had always eliminated it. Unfortunately, recent texts have introduced it due to the authors' lack of knowledge. Christ is coming. "We proclaim your death and your resurrection until you come again," the original Latin text of the liturgy takes Paul's text literally: " donec Venias ” until you come. This is why I pointed out to you that the story of the Easter apparition begins with “Jesus came, stood in the midst, and said, ‘Peace.’” I am going to the Father, that is, I am coming within you. Going to the Father is his death and resurrection, but in that way, in that extraordinary event, Christ enters into the lives of the disciples. From the outside, he was unable to convince them, even though he was an excellent teacher, he set a splendid example, he failed to convince even twelve friends… and they loved him. From within, however, he managed to change their hearts and minds. After Easter, things change.

In the tradition of the Fathers, three great signs of the resurrection were spoken of: the empty tomb, the Easter apparitions, and above all, the change in the disciples. How is it possible that Peter, who is afraid of the servant and swears he doesn't know Jesus, a few days later speaks to the high priest and says, "You can do whatever you want to me, but I must tell you that he is the Messiah." How did that man change so? What happened? Something extraordinary happened. He was afraid of losing his life while Jesus was alive, but once Jesus was dead and buried, Peter became courageous and was ready to give his life. What happened? Christ came within him and brought peace. He fulfilled the person of the disciple. We have a concrete example in Peter, but it is the same thing that happened to others and it is what happens to us; it is our Christian experience. "I am going to the Father and am within you," and shortly thereafter, in chapter 16, the last verse, verse 33, Jesus continues to tell the disciples: "I have told you this so that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation, but take courage, I have overcome the world." This is again an important connection with the person of Jesus. "I have told you these things, I have revealed the heart of God to you, so that in me you may have peace." Notice the mutual indwelling: Jesus comes within the disciples, but it also says that the disciples must enter into Jesus. It is a fundamental communion of life. When the disciple assimilates the life of Jesus, he has peace, because peace is of Christ, peace is Christ himself. Therefore, our reflection cannot have political or social implications because it is a fundamentally theological and Christological discourse. Peace is achieved in the personal encounter with Christ and is not achieved through compromises, agreements, or these situations. Peace is a reality born from the encounter with Christ and is a transformation of the person. Wherever there are people who have encountered Christ, in him they find peace and have the ability to make peace. "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God." Blessed are you, God makes you his children, so that you can be, like the Father, creators of peace. The Beatitudes are not moral precepts, but evangelical proclamations of God's Grace at work. God makes you his children, and as children, you resemble the Father, who is the God of peace, and thus enables you to make peace, to build, in hearts and intentions, this perennial newness in history that is good relationships in every sense. Therefore, peace is made when people grow in this relationship of faith with the Lord and, by allowing themselves to be transformed by him, become capable of authentic Christian newness. Christ, who is our peace, enables us to be peacemakers. Let us ask the Lord to truly grant us this ability and extend it to the entire Church , so that the Christian world may be a peacemaker, in the depths of our being and in small things, in our daily relationships as well as in our great international commitments. May Christ, our peace, truly rejoice in our hearts.

 

Text collected by Elisa Massa 

Source: Casalese Life