Pope Leo XIV addressed the world’s religious leaders at Assisi on 27 October 2026, declaring peace humanity’s guiding star without once naming Jesus Christ. Only two days earlier, Catholics observing the traditional Roman calendar had celebrated the universal sovereignty of Christ the King. The contrast exposes a difficulty which forty years of interreligious gatherings have failed to resolve: how can the Church present herself as a witness to peace while leaving unspoken the identity of the Redeemer from whom Christian peace proceeds?
On Sunday 25 October, Catholics following the traditional Roman calendar celebrated the feast of Our Lord Jesus Christ the King. In churches and chapels throughout the world, the Roman liturgy proclaimed His sovereignty over heaven and earth, while the faithful renewed the Consecration of the Human Race to His Sacred Heart. They prayed for the conversion of those who do not know Him, for the return of those who have abandoned His commandments, and for the restoration of His reign over individuals and nations. The prayer made no distinction between peoples who already acknowledge Christ’s authority and those who reject it. His Kingship was confessed as an objective reality arising from His divine Person and His redemptive work, not as a dignity conferred upon Him by the consent of Christians. Two days later, Pope Leo XIV addressed an international gathering of religious leaders at Assisi, urging humanity to make peace the common ideal of all peoples and the guiding star of their decisions. In the entire address, the name of Jesus Christ was never spoken.
Neither the Holy Trinity nor the Blessed Virgin Mary was mentioned. There was no explicit reference to the Incarnation, Calvary or the Resurrection, no proclamation of Christ’s universal sovereignty, and no explanation of the Catholic Church’s belief that salvation comes through Him alone. The Pope spoke of God, prayer, fraternity, reconciliation and the responsibilities of believers in a world afflicted by violence. He invoked Saint Francis and concluded with the Beatitude concerning peacemakers. Much of what he said expressed entirely legitimate moral concerns, and Catholics should have no difficulty recognising the suffering which inspired his appeal. Yet the address was framed in language which representatives of religions denying the central claims of Christianity could largely endorse without qualification. The religious identity of the speaker, though essential to the occasion, was scarcely discernible from the substance of his message.¹
LifeSiteNews drew attention to the omission on 27 October, describing the Pope’s remarks as though they placed the world’s religions on an equivalent spiritual footing. That latter judgement requires greater care than the report gave it. Leo XIV did not expressly declare that Christianity and other religions were equally true or equally salvific. Nor does the absence of Christ’s name from one speech establish that the Pope has abandoned his profession of Catholic doctrine. Such allegations would need evidence which the transcript does not provide. The more substantial difficulty lies in what the address communicated by leaving certain truths unstated. The Bishop of Rome was speaking at a gathering convened precisely because of the religious identity of its participants. His presence was significant because he was the successor of Saint Peter, entrusted with confirming the brethren and bearing witness to the Gospel. A speech devoted to peace might naturally have explained what the Catholic Church understands by peace, especially when addressing those whose religious beliefs differ profoundly from her own.²
The omission becomes more revealing when Leo XIV’s words are compared with his earlier teaching. In his message for the World Day of Peace on 1 January 2026, the Pope began with the risen Jesus appearing to the Apostles on Easter evening and bestowing His peace upon them. He explained that Christian peace is inseparable from the victory of Christ over sin and death. His encyclical Magnifica Humanitas, published on 15 May, developed the same understanding. Paragraph 228 identified peace as the gift of Jesus Christ and recalled the greeting of the Risen Lord to His disciples. At Assisi, Leo quoted the encyclical repeatedly, drawing upon its observations about globalisation, the arms race, international conflict and the necessity of dialogue. He did not employ its expressly Christological explanation of peace. That explanation was neither obscure nor difficult to adapt to an interreligious audience. The Pope had already provided it in a document intended for the whole Church and the wider world.³
There is an even closer comparison, one which bears directly upon Assisi and the Franciscan anniversary being commemorated. On 7 January 2026, Leo XIV wrote to the Ministers General of the Franciscan Family for the eighth centenary of Saint Francis’s death. He explained the saint’s understanding of peace through the Easter greeting of the Risen Lord and explicitly identified Christ’s victory over death as its foundation. The letter included a prayer asking Saint Francis to help Christians become witnesses of the peace that comes from Christ. The text was entirely suited to a gathering at Assisi. It combined the rejection of violence, the example of the saint, the language of fraternity and the unmistakable proclamation of the Christian Redeemer. When the Pope addressed the representatives of the world’s religions in October, this carefully expressed Franciscan theology was absent. The difference is significant precisely because both addresses came from the same Pontiff, concerned the same saint, and invoked substantially the same understanding of peace as a gift requiring human cooperation.⁴
The three-day gathering, entitled Unarmed and Disarming Peace, was organised by the Community of Sant’Egidio from 25 to 27 October. Its programme brought together religious leaders, representatives of Christian communities, public figures and participants in international humanitarian work. Discussions concerned contemporary warfare, disarmament, migration, social inequality, the environment and the responsibilities of religious communities in an increasingly unstable international order. Leo XIV had intended to attend personally but remained in Rome while recovering from surgery, contributing instead a recorded message to the concluding ceremony. The anniversary recalled the unprecedented World Day of Prayer for Peace convened by John Paul II on 27 October 1986, an event whose public symbolism has remained controversial ever since. The international character of the 2026 gathering was unmistakable, as was the desire of its organisers to demonstrate that people divided by religion could nevertheless cooperate against violence. Nobody seriously concerned for the victims of war should dismiss that purpose.⁵
There are circumstances in which cooperation between people of different religions is both morally necessary and entirely compatible with Catholic teaching. A starving child does not need to profess the Creed before receiving food. Refugees fleeing bombardment have a claim upon human charity which their religious convictions cannot diminish. Catholics may work alongside Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Protestants and unbelievers to protect vulnerable communities, assist displaced families or encourage a just settlement between hostile governments. The natural moral law supplies obligations which can be recognised beyond the visible boundaries of the Church, and Christian charity gives Catholics additional reason to fulfil them. Yet cooperation for a particular humanitarian purpose does not create religious communion among those involved. Men who agree that innocent civilians should not be murdered may continue to disagree about the existence and nature of God, the identity of Jesus Christ and the means of salvation. Such disagreements need not prevent the common undertaking, but neither are they extinguished by it.
The organisers of the Assisi gathering attempted to preserve this distinction in the arrangements for prayer. Representatives of the different religions did not perform one undifferentiated act of worship. Christian leaders assembled in the Lower Basilica of Saint Francis, where Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I and Cardinal Matteo Zuppi delivered meditations, while participants belonging to non-Christian religions prayed separately in other locations. The assembly subsequently came together for a public ceremony, a remembrance of the victims of war and an appeal for peace. These arrangements deserve to be described accurately. Claims that the event consisted of a single common religious service would misrepresent the published programme. The organisers plainly wished to avoid the most obvious forms of syncretistic worship, and the distinction between separate prayer and common public witness was not an incidental feature of the proceedings. It had been deliberately retained from earlier Assisi gatherings because of the theological questions which such encounters inevitably raise.⁶
The final appeal nevertheless illustrated the limitations of that safeguard. Speaking on behalf of the assembled representatives, it declared that religions offer humanity gifts received from God, including love, wisdom, reverence for life and forgiveness. Its immediate purpose was to identify the moral resources which religious communities might bring to the pursuit of peace. Taken as an acknowledgement that people formed within different traditions can possess genuine virtue, the statement is unexceptionable. A Catholic need not deny the goodness of a neighbour’s actions because that neighbour is not a Christian. The theological difficulty begins when the language passes from the virtues of particular persons to a collective description of the religions themselves as bearers of divine gifts, without clarifying the distinction between natural religious aspiration, genuine elements of truth and the unique revelation entrusted to the Church. The problem is sharpened by the incompatibility of the doctrines represented. The confession that Jesus Christ is God made man cannot be reconciled with the Islamic denial of His divinity. The Christian understanding of creation, redemption and man’s supernatural destiny cannot simply be assimilated to Buddhist religious teaching. Jewish and Christian belief possess a unique historical and theological relationship, yet they remain divided over the identity of the promised Messiah.
These differences concern the truth of fundamental religious propositions. They cannot be treated as merely alternative languages for describing one spiritual reality. The Catholic Church may acknowledge whatever is true and good in other religious traditions without accepting the proposition that those traditions possess the same authority as divine revelation. She may recognise sincere religious conviction without regarding sincerity as sufficient to establish the truth of what is believed. The equality which belongs to human beings by virtue of their dignity is not an equality of contradictory doctrines. This principle was reaffirmed by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith in Dominus Iesus, promulgated in 2000 with the approval of John Paul II. The declaration explicitly rejected religious relativism, reaffirmed the uniqueness and universality of Christ’s saving mediation, and insisted that interreligious dialogue accompanies rather than replaces the Church’s missionary proclamation. Its teaching provides a sound basis for relations with non-Christians precisely because it refuses to conceal the differences which genuine dialogue must recognise.⁷
The Church’s desire for the conversion of mankind follows from her belief that Jesus Christ is truly the Redeemer. It does not authorise coercion, contempt, deception or the exploitation of another person’s vulnerability. Faith requires a free response to grace, and religious liberty must be respected. Nevertheless, the rejection of coercive methods cannot be extended into the rejection of evangelisation itself. A Catholic who believes that Christ is the Way, the Truth and the Life cannot regard another person’s knowledge of Him as spiritually inconsequential. There is no necessary hostility in hoping that a neighbour will come to share one’s faith, provided that his conscience and dignity are respected. Indeed, the unwillingness to acknowledge one’s deepest convictions can itself become an obstacle to honest encounter. Two people may enjoy genuine friendship despite profound religious disagreement. Their friendship need not depend upon either pretending that the disagreement is unimportant.
John Paul II understood the need to explain these principles when preparing for the original Assisi gathering. On 22 October 1986, five days before the event, he devoted his general audience to its meaning. He distinguished the representatives coming together in one place to pray from their undertaking a common act of worship expressing a shared faith. More importantly, he explicitly reaffirmed that salvation is found through Jesus Christ, identified Him as the centre of creation and history, and situated the Church’s relations with other religions within her continuing duty to bear witness to the Redeemer. His explanation did not remove the objections subsequently raised against the event, particularly concerning its public symbolism. It does, however, establish that the Pope considered those doctrinal qualifications necessary. John Paul II wished to prevent the gathering from being understood as a denial of the unique claims of Christianity, and he attempted to do so by proclaiming those claims before the participants assembled.⁸
Benedict XVI returned to the matter in 2006, commemorating the twentieth anniversary. His letter to Bishop Domenico Sorrentino recognised the importance of the original initiative while warning against interpretations which would encourage religious relativism. He recalled the distinction between separate prayers and an ostensibly common religious act, insisting that the pursuit of peace did not require the participants to surrender their doctrinal convictions or seek a religious consensus which superseded them. Benedict regarded the relationship between truth and peace as essential to the proper understanding of the gathering. He was not proposing a universal religious fellowship in which the uniqueness of Christ could safely be left unmentioned. The Catholic contribution remained distinctively Christian, even while directed towards a good which all the participants might recognise. Forty years after the original event, the same distinctions remain necessary because the danger against which they were intended to guard has not disappeared.⁹
The Vatican itself recognised the difficulty shortly before the present anniversary. On 16 September 2026, the dicasteries responsible for doctrine, Christian unity and interreligious dialogue issued A Journey of Hope, commemorating sixty years of Nostra Aetate. The note, approved by Leo XIV, presented interreligious dialogue as an important dimension of the Church’s mission. Its twenty-second paragraph insisted that dialogue must be accompanied by fidelity to Jesus Christ and by an unambiguous awareness of one’s own religious identity. It expressly warned against relativism and syncretism. The significance of this language should not be underestimated. The Holy See was acknowledging that dialogue becomes theologically defective when the desire for openness obscures the convictions from which Catholics approach others. Yet six weeks later, at the anniversary of the most conspicuous interreligious initiative of the modern papacy, the Pope’s own address left those convictions largely unstated.¹⁰
The discrepancy is more revealing than any attempt to infer a hidden doctrinal intention from the Pope’s silence. Leo XIV has approved documents which preserve the necessary distinctions and has personally written about peace in explicitly Christological terms. His orthodoxy cannot reasonably be judged from the absence of a particular word in one address. What merits examination is the emerging separation between formal doctrinal teaching and the language through which the Church most visibly presents herself to the world. A principle may remain intact in an encyclical or dicastery document while exercising surprisingly little influence upon the public ceremonies intended to express it. Over time, the distinction between what the Church teaches and what people understand her to teach may become substantial. Many who witnessed or read about Assisi will never consult Dominus Iesus, the September note or the theological explanations supplied by John Paul II and Benedict XVI. Their understanding will be formed chiefly by the language and symbolism of the event itself.
There is a further development which makes the anniversary particularly significant. On 7 October, Cardinal George Jacob Koovakad, Prefect of the Dicastery for Interreligious Dialogue, addressed a gathering at the Pontifical University Antonianum. Referring to Leo XIV’s Magnifica Humanitas, he argued that the original Assisi event had entered the ordinary teaching of the Magisterium. He also invoked Pentecost in support of the interreligious initiative and associated traditionalist opposition to the original gathering with subsequent schismatic rupture. Nuntiatoria examined these claims in its editorial of 23 October, Cardinal Koovakad’s Assisi Error: An Event Is Not Doctrine, distinguishing between the Church’s authoritative teaching and the prudential decisions through which a Pope may seek to apply it. A papal event can express doctrine without every feature of its organisation becoming doctrinally obligatory. Nor does the repeated commemoration of an initiative establish that all criticisms of its execution are necessarily contrary to Catholic faith.¹¹
The appeal to Pentecost is particularly revealing because the biblical event bears a rather different theological meaning from the one apparently required by the Cardinal’s analogy. On the first Pentecost, the Apostles did not assemble representatives of different religions to offer separate acts of worship before issuing a common declaration. They proclaimed one Gospel to people drawn from different nations, and the miracle enabled those people to hear the Apostolic preaching in their own languages. Saint Peter announced the Crucified and Risen Christ, called his hearers to repentance and instructed them to receive Baptism. Their diversity of language and origin did not diminish the unity of the message. Pentecost marked the beginning of the Church’s universal missionary proclamation. To employ it principally as an image of religious plurality risks overlooking the event’s essential character: the nations were being summoned to receive the same revealed Faith. As a limited analogy for human cooperation across cultural boundaries, the comparison may have some value. It cannot provide an adequate theological account of interreligious prayer.
Saint Francis himself presents a more demanding example than the modern celebration of religious fraternity often allows. His encounter with Sultan al-Malik al-Kamil during the Fifth Crusade in 1219 remains an extraordinary episode. Francis crossed the lines separating hostile armies and secured an audience with the Muslim ruler. The surviving accounts differ in their details, and later devotional representations have sometimes obscured what can be established historically. His missionary purpose, however, is well attested. Francis sought to bear witness to the Christian Faith and desired the Sultan’s conversion. He approached his religious adversary with courage and without personal hatred, but he did not regard Christianity and Islam as interchangeable expressions of divine truth. His charity arose within an intensely Catholic life of prayer, penance, devotion to the Eucharist and fidelity to the Gospel.¹²
The Francis who went to Egypt was neither a religious indifferentist nor a political agitator seeking to compel belief by force. He was a missionary whose conviction concerning the truth of Christianity gave purpose to his journey. His willingness to converse with the Sultan did not require him to conceal the identity of the Saviour. The distinction matters because the saint has become an almost universally acceptable emblem of fraternity. His concern for the poor, tenderness towards creation and willingness to cross hostile boundaries are frequently celebrated, while the missionary intention which animated his encounter with Islam receives much less attention. The resulting portrait is incomplete. Francis cannot be understood apart from the Incarnation, the Passion and the sacramental life of the Church. A genuinely Franciscan approach to religious encounter should preserve both his humility towards those who disagreed with him and his determination to proclaim Christ.
The traditional feast of Christ the King supplies the wider theological perspective. Pius XI instituted the feast in 1925 through the encyclical Quas Primas, at a time when Europe was still struggling with the consequences of the First World War and revolutionary ideologies were challenging the Christian foundations of society. The Pope believed that the deliberate exclusion of Jesus Christ from public affairs had contributed to the disorders afflicting modern civilisation. His concern extended beyond the declining practice of religion among individuals. He saw the assumption that political and social life could establish a sufficient moral order independently of divine authority as profoundly mistaken. In Ubi Arcano Dei Consilio, published three years earlier, he had already articulated the programme which would define his pontificate: Pax Christi in Regno Christi, the peace of Christ in the Kingdom of Christ.¹³
The doctrine of Christ’s social Kingship does not require compulsory religious conversion or the abolition of the legitimate distinction between spiritual and temporal authority. Pius XI understood that faith involves the free assent of the person and that civil institutions possess their proper competence. Nevertheless, he refused to treat political society as morally self-sufficient. Public authority remains accountable to the natural law, and the human person possesses a supernatural destiny which no government can confer or adequately represent. The State cannot make a moral truth false by legislating against it, nor can the exclusion of religion from public life exempt society from the authority of its Creator. For Pius XI, the prospect of lasting peace depended upon the restoration of a moral order in which justice, truth and the obligations of human life were properly understood. He did not imagine that diplomatic arrangements alone could remedy the disorders arising from man’s rejection of God.
The traditional liturgy of Christ the King expresses this doctrine with remarkable precision. Its Preface celebrates Christ’s Kingdom as one of truth and life, holiness and grace, justice, love and peace. The sequence is not accidental. Peace belongs within an order founded upon truth and governed by divine charity. The Consecration of the Human Race to the Sacred Heart makes the missionary implications explicit, beginning with the invocation Iesu dulcissime, Redemptor humani generis. Christ is addressed as the Redeemer of mankind, and the petitions which follow recognise His sovereignty over those who know Him and those who do not. Nuntiatoria’s recent examination of the consecration explained how its language expresses an entire theology of creation, redemption, human freedom and the Church’s missionary responsibility. The accompanying spiritual conference, Christ Must Reign Here, also insisted that the public recognition of His Kingship must begin with the conversion of Catholics themselves and the ordering of their ordinary lives according to His commandments.¹⁴
The contrast between the traditional feast and the Assisi anniversary therefore goes beyond an unfortunate coincidence of dates. On Sunday, Catholics prayed that all nations might acknowledge the sovereignty of Christ. On Tuesday, the Bishop of Rome addressed the representatives of those nations’ religious traditions in language which did not explicitly disclose that sovereignty. The immediate purposes of the two occasions were different, and a liturgical consecration cannot be expected to resemble an international gathering. Yet their theological foundations ought to be consistent and recognisable. The Church cannot reasonably maintain that Christ’s universal Kingship is essential to her understanding of society while allowing that understanding to disappear whenever she speaks before representatives of religions which do not acknowledge Him. The Pope could have explained the common human desire for peace while identifying the distinctively Christian grounds for its pursuit. Such an explanation would have required no change to the programme and no demand that the other participants profess the Catholic Faith.
The events at Assisi earlier in the autumn make the pastoral implications more uncomfortable still. On 6 September, pilgrims belonging to the Society of Saint Pius X completed their annual journey from Bevagna to Assisi and sought to enter the Basilica of Saint Francis as an organised group to sing the Nicene Creed at the saint’s tomb. They were informed that they could enter individually or in small groups for private prayer, but could not make the proposed public profession corporately. Fr Gabriele D’Avino, Superior of the Society’s Italian District, declined the arrangement, and the pilgrims recited the Creed outside. Nuntiatoria examined the incident in The Creed Outside the Basilica, including the explanation given by the Franciscan custodians. They distinguished between public Catholic prayer requiring full communion with the Roman Pontiff and officially authorised ecumenical services involving Christians belonging to other ecclesial communities. They also clarified that the October anniversary would not involve the celebration of non-Christian rites inside the Basilica.¹⁵
The different canonical circumstances cannot simply be ignored. The Society’s disputed relationship with ecclesiastical authority raises serious questions concerning the exercise of ministry, faculties and the regulation of public worship. The Holy See’s disciplinary proceedings following the episcopal consecrations of July 2026, and the recourse pursued in response, require careful legal treatment. The canonical position of the Society’s clergy must also be distinguished from that of individual lay Catholics who attend its chapels or participate in its pilgrimages. Attendance at a traditional Catholic pilgrimage does not, without more, establish that an individual has committed the canonical delict of schism. The distinction between the validity of sacraments, their liceity, the rights of the faithful and the authority of ecclesiastical superiors remains essential. Such matters cannot responsibly be settled through slogans concerning obedience or by treating every canonical irregularity as proof of a schismatic intention.
Nevertheless, the contrast between the September and October events deserves examination. A group of traditional Catholic pilgrims was unable to make an organised public profession of the Nicene Creed at the tomb of Saint Francis, while an officially sponsored ecumenical prayer service took place in the Basilica several weeks later, followed by a wider interreligious ceremony enjoying the endorsement of the Holy See. The circumstances were not identical, and their difference may explain the administrative decisions. It does not necessarily make the pastoral priorities intelligible to the faithful. The Creed which the pilgrims wished to profess contained the very doctrines distinguishing Christianity from the other religions represented at Assisi. Their intention was to confess the divinity of Christ, His Incarnation, Passion and Resurrection, and the mystery of the Holy Trinity. A Church which devotes considerable institutional energy to facilitating religious encounter ought to be capable of explaining why an organised profession of those truths by traditional Catholics presents a greater difficulty in a particular sacred place than some officially sanctioned forms of ecumenical participation.
Leo XIV’s declaration concerning warfare introduces another question, although it requires a more careful distinction than the language of the gathering supplied. The Pope condemned the invocation of religion to justify violence and insisted that war could never be undertaken in God’s name. His words were directed against aggression, terrorism and the misuse of religious authority to legitimise cruelty. These are genuine evils. A ruler does not obtain divine approval for murder, conquest or the deliberate destruction of innocent life by attaching a religious title to his campaign. Catholic moral theology has nevertheless recognised circumstances in which the use of armed force may be justified. Saint Augustine and Saint Thomas Aquinas developed principles concerning legitimate authority, just cause and right intention, while the Catechism of the Catholic Church preserves the possibility of military defence under demanding conditions of necessity, proportionality and reasonable prospect of success.¹⁶
The distinction between a just war and a holy war is consequently important. Warfare does not become sacred merely because its cause may be just. A government may act legitimately in resisting invasion while recognising that the necessity of armed resistance represents a profound evil in human affairs. The historical record of ecclesiastically authorised military campaigns, especially the crusades, involves legitimate defensive concerns, political interests, religious convictions and serious abuses. It cannot be responsibly interpreted through a formula which either sanctifies every act undertaken in a religious cause or rejects the entire possibility of morally legitimate defence. The Pope’s words can be understood consistently with Catholic teaching when read as a condemnation of aggressive warfare and the presumption that invoking God’s name places violence beyond moral judgement. Greater precision would have prevented the impression that the duty to seek peace might exclude the obligation to protect the innocent when peaceful remedies have failed.
The problem is particularly serious because Catholic teaching understands peace in relation to justice and right order. Saint Augustine’s account of tranquillitas ordinis, the tranquillity of order, recognises that peace involves more than the temporary cessation of hostilities. Saint Thomas Aquinas connects peace with charity and the proper ordering of human desires. A ceasefire may end immediate killing while leaving the causes of conflict unresolved. A political settlement may establish stability without securing justice for those who have suffered persecution. Such arrangements can still accomplish important goods, but their limitations should be acknowledged. The Church has never understood the peace promised by Christ as equivalent to the absence of warfare or the achievement of a satisfactory diplomatic settlement. Reconciliation with God addresses a disorder which no treaty, international institution or political programme can remedy.¹⁷
Saint Paul identifies the foundation of Christian peace in Ephesians 2:14: Ipse enim est pax nostra — “For he is our peace.” In Colossians 1:20, reconciliation is accomplished through the Blood of the Cross. Our Lord distinguishes the peace He gives from that which the world can bestow. These passages are central to the Church’s understanding of her mission. Political peace is a legitimate object of cooperation between people of different convictions, and the pursuit of justice is an obligation arising from the natural moral law. But the supernatural peace proclaimed by Christianity concerns man’s reconciliation with God through the Redeemer. The two are related without being interchangeable. The Church’s duty to promote the temporal welfare of mankind cannot exhaust her mission, since the ultimate good for which man was created lies beyond the competence of political society.
This distinction has consequences far removed from international conferences. A Catholic school may become so concerned with teaching tolerance, environmental responsibility and social inclusion that its pupils receive little explanation of the Incarnation, the necessity of grace or the meaning of redemption. A parish may cultivate an atmosphere of welcome while seldom speaking about repentance or conversion. Catholics engaged in public affairs may become accustomed to defending the social benefits of their religion while concealing the supernatural convictions which inspire them. None of these developments follows automatically from one papal address, but together they illustrate the danger of allowing the language of humanitarian concern to become the principal public expression of Christian identity. The Gospel contains moral teachings which people of different convictions can appreciate. It also proclaims that humanity needs salvation through Jesus Christ. The latter claim cannot be indefinitely deferred without changing the character of what the Church appears to offer.
The problem is made more difficult by the modern tendency to identify any explicit desire for conversion with religious hostility. Cardinal Jean-Paul Vesco’s recent description of the Catholic Church in Algeria as one which does not exist to convert, and Cardinal Américo Aguiar’s controversial remarks during preparations for World Youth Day in Lisbon in 2023, illustrate how easily the distinction between evangelisation and coercive proselytism becomes confused. Their circumstances differ, and each statement requires interpretation within its proper context. Yet the recurring emphasis upon presence, accompaniment and encounter, without corresponding clarity concerning the missionary purpose of the Church, can leave the impression that conversion has become an embarrassment. The fact that missionary activity must respect conscience does not make conversion an improper objective. Nor does cooperation with other religions require Catholics to renounce the hope that their neighbours will come to share the Faith.
One may readily understand why ecclesiastical leaders favour a vocabulary capable of securing broad agreement. Governments, international organisations and the representatives of other religions are generally receptive to appeals for peace, fraternity and cooperation. Such language permits useful relationships to develop across substantial differences. It may also secure opportunities for humanitarian action which would be difficult to obtain through more confrontational approaches. These are legitimate considerations. Diplomacy, however, cannot determine the content of Christian witness. The Pope’s responsibility is not exhausted by his ability to convene or encourage people of goodwill. His office possesses a specifically apostolic character, and the truth entrusted to the Apostles remains the reason for the Church’s existence.
Catholic participation in public life must therefore be marked by both charity and candour. The faithful should be willing to assist those who do not share their religion, defend their legitimate rights and cooperate wherever justice permits. They must also avoid the opposite error of defending religious truth with a bitterness which contradicts the Gospel they profess. Christ’s Kingship is not honoured by arrogance, contempt or a habitual appetite for controversy. The seriousness of Catholic doctrine makes charity more necessary, not less. A profession of faith becomes more credible when accompanied by patience, humility and practical service. Yet the obligation to love one’s neighbour cannot require silence concerning the truth which Christians believe is essential to his salvation. Saint Francis approached the Sultan without hatred because he was a disciple of Christ. His fidelity to the Gospel gave purpose to the encounter.
The same principle should govern the Church’s relations with the contemporary world. Catholics need not turn every charitable undertaking into an organised act of evangelisation, nor should every diplomatic meeting be expected to contain an extended theological discourse. But when the Church appears publicly in her religious capacity, her distinctive claims should remain intelligible. There is a difference between choosing language suitable to an audience and employing language which leaves that audience uncertain about what the speaker actually believes. A Muslim representative at Assisi could have listened respectfully to a papal declaration that Jesus Christ is the source of Christian peace without being required to accept it. A Buddhist participant would have remained free to disagree. Such candour would have made the encounter more genuinely religious by allowing the participating traditions to retain their distinctive convictions rather than leaving them largely outside the common discussion.
Forty years of commemorating Assisi have established a substantial body of ecclesiastical precedent. Sant’Egidio’s humanitarian and diplomatic work has brought practical assistance to people affected by conflict, and its achievements should be judged according to their actual merits. The desire to prevent warfare, encourage negotiation and protect the vulnerable is worthy of Catholic support. But the moral value of such undertakings cannot by itself establish the theological adequacy of the ceremonies and language through which they are presented. A successful humanitarian initiative does not settle questions about religious truth. Nor does the repeated endorsement of an earlier papal decision make every aspect of that decision doctrinally obligatory. Pius XI’s warning in Mortalium Animos, although addressed principally to attempts at Christian unity through doctrinal compromise, remains pertinent to the danger of treating revealed truth as though it could be subordinated to a broadly acceptable religious consensus.¹⁸
The present controversy can therefore be examined without accusing Leo XIV of doctrinal denial or dismissing the legitimate purposes of the Assisi gathering. The relevant evidence is substantial enough to support a more exact judgement. John Paul II publicly affirmed Christ’s unique mediation when preparing the original event. Benedict XVI insisted upon safeguards against religious relativism. Dominus Iesus supplied authoritative doctrinal distinctions. The September 2026 Vatican note repeated the need for an explicit Christian identity in dialogue. Leo XIV himself explained the peace of the Risen Lord in his World Day of Peace message, his encyclical and his letter to the Franciscan Family. Against that background, the absence of Christ’s name from his address to the world’s religious leaders is not a minor stylistic detail. It illustrates the difference between preserving Catholic doctrine in official texts and allowing that doctrine to inform the Church’s most visible public encounters.
The traditional feast of Christ the King was established because Pius XI believed that the exclusion of Jesus Christ from the ordering of human affairs had contributed to the disorder of modern society. A century later, that exclusion need not take the form of an explicit rejection of Christian belief. It can occur through a gradual accommodation of ecclesiastical language to the expectations of a religiously plural world, until the truths most distinctive of Christianity are reserved almost entirely for those who already profess them. Such restraint may be intended to facilitate dialogue, but its cumulative effect is to make the Church’s supernatural mission less apparent. Those who encounter Catholicism chiefly through international religious gatherings may come to regard her as an influential participant in a worldwide humanitarian enterprise rather than the society founded by Christ to proclaim His Gospel and administer the means of salvation.
There was no need for such an ambiguity at Assisi. Leo XIV possessed a substantial and explicitly Christian account of peace, written in his own words. His January letter to the Franciscans had already connected the saint’s example with the Risen Lord, and Magnifica Humanitas had repeated that understanding before a universal audience. He could have acknowledged the shared responsibility of mankind for peace while explaining why Catholics find its ultimate foundation in Jesus Christ. That would not have compromised the dignity of the other participants or diminished the common purpose of the gathering. It would have given them a clearer understanding of the Catholic contribution.
The Church possesses something greater than a humanitarian programme, however worthy such programmes may be. She has received the Gospel of Jesus Christ, who reconciles man to God and whose Kingdom is one of truth, justice, charity and peace. Her participation in the world’s affairs must remain ordered towards that mission, even where circumstances require patience, prudence and respect for those who do not share her Faith.
The omission at Assisi did not diminish Christ’s sovereignty. It diminished the clarity of the witness offered in His name. The world heard the Bishop of Rome commend the pursuit of peace, but it was left without the explanation which he had himself supplied earlier in the year, and which Catholic tradition has never ceased to proclaim.
Pius XI expressed it in the programme of his pontificate: Pax Christi in Regno Christi. Saint Paul had written it more simply: Ipse enim est pax nostra.
The Pope went to Assisi to speak of peace. The tragedy is that he left its divine Author unnamed, when the Church’s greatest service to humanity is to make Him known.
¹ Leo XIV, Video Message to the Participants in the International Meeting “Unarmed and Disarming Peace”, 27 October 2026.
² LifeSiteNews, “Leo XIV Omits Mention of Christ at Assisi, Says ‘Peace’ Must Be Man’s ‘Guiding Star’”, 27 October 2026.
³ Leo XIV, Message for the 59th World Day of Peace, 1 January 2026; Magnifica Humanitas, 15 May 2026, §§223, 228.
⁴ Leo XIV, Letter to the Ministers General of the Conference of the Franciscan Family on the Eighth Centenary of the Death of Saint Francis, 7 January 2026.
⁵ Community of Sant’Egidio, Assisi 2026: Unarmed and Disarming Peace; Vatican News, “Pope Leo Will Not Make Assisi Visit to Aid Recovery after Surgery”, 23 October 2026.
⁶ Community of Sant’Egidio, Assisi 2026: Final Ceremony and Programme, 27 October 2026; Appeal for Peace 2026, 27 October 2026.
⁷ Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Dominus Iesus, 6 August 2000, §§4, 21–22.
⁸ John Paul II, General Audience, 22 October 1986, §§2–4.
⁹ Benedict XVI, Letter to Bishop Domenico Sorrentino on the Twentieth Anniversary of the Interreligious Meeting of Prayer for Peace, 2 September 2006.
¹⁰ Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, Dicastery for Promoting Christian Unity and Dicastery for Interreligious Dialogue, A Journey of Hope: Sixty Years of Interreligious Dialogue and Fraternity in the Light of Nostra Aetate, 16 September 2026, §22.
¹¹ Nuntiatoria, “Cardinal Koovakad’s Assisi Error: An Event Is Not Doctrine”, 23 October 2026; Pontificia Università Antonianum, “Lo Spirito d’Assisi tra Memoria e Profezia”, 8 October 2026.
¹² Steven J. McMichael, “Francis and the Encounter with the Sultan (1219)”, in The Cambridge Companion to Francis of Assisi, ed. Michael J. P. Robson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 127–142.
¹³ Pius XI, Ubi Arcano Dei Consilio, 23 December 1922; Quas Primas, 11 December 1925.
¹⁴ Nuntiatoria, “The Consecration of the Human Race to the Sacred Heart of Jesus”, 23 October 2026; HE ✠Jerome Lloyd, “Christ Must Reign Here: A Spiritual Conference for the Feast of Christ the King”, Nuntiatoria, 27 October 2026.
¹⁵ Nuntiatoria, “The Creed Outside the Basilica”, 11 September 2026.
¹⁶ Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, II–II, q. 40, art. 1; Catechism of the Catholic Church, §§2307–2317.
¹⁷ Saint Augustine, De Civitate Dei, XIX, 13; Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, II–II, q. 29.
¹⁸ Pius XI, Mortalium Animos, 6 January 1928.
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