Truth, Justice, and Forgiveness
Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa - The “Social Poets” meeting with Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa took place in Verona Cathedral as part of the “Social Poets” program, with the central theme “Fraternity is the name of peace.” The cardinal, speaking via video link from Jerusalem, spoke with Daniele Rocchetti, focusing mainly on the conflict in the Holy Land and the need to build paths of fraternity, even after the end of violence, to heal the wounds caused by hatred.
During the evening, Cardinal Pizzaballa offered a firsthand account of the experiences of the Christian community in Gaza and emphasized that, although the end of conflict does not coincide with the end of hatred, it is possible to embark on paths of reconciliation and reconstruction starting from one's own community. He stated that his presence on the ground in times of crisis is a sign of support for the people, explaining that the main task of a pastor is not to “solve” but to “be there” where there is need, beyond political strategies.
Presenter: We meet again tonight, carrying in our hearts the weight and anguish of the dramatic events that continue to bloody the Holy Land. The Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, Cardinal Pizzaballa, should have been with us, but he cannot and will not leave his people at this time. Although he was born a stone's throw from us, he has spent most of his life right there, where he is now. No one knows better than he what happened before, during, and after the tragic events of October 7, two years ago.
Our meeting can only start from the deepest and most universal desire that humanity has expressed throughout the centuries: the dream of Eden. Eden represents the idea of a state of harmony, an absence of violence, injustice, and oppression—the dream of a garden where the struggle for survival is unnecessary and where people live without conflict. Looking at the Middle East, where some cartographers once imagined Eden to be located, today we see instead a reality that more closely resembles that “east of Eden,” the region where Cain settled after killing his brother. But must cities always be born of blood, as in the cases of Cain or Romulus?
Judaism, to tell the truth, knows something else entirely. Its history is marked by the search for a promised land that is given; it knows the deserts of life and the sense of abandonment. It respects the plurality of points of view and follows a law of love, of gratuitousness: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord,” we read in the book of Leviticus.
But for us, this evening, more than images, we are left to listen to the voices coming from the Holy Land. “Don't forget me,” writes Sara, a Palestinian student whose biggest dream is to finish university and become a journalist. “Don't forget the people of Gaza,” she adds, “and their two million stories of love, anguish, and perseverance.”
Listening to these voices is the goal of this evening, so that we can then continue to act. After all, the Church of Verona has been close to the Holy Land for years. Since 2012, it has been twinned with the Palestinian village of Taybeh, from which we welcomed thirty young people to Italy for the Jubilee last June. The same could be said of the Association “Friends of the Children of Bethlehem,” which is based in Verona and promotes the work of the Caritas Baby Hospital.
Tonight, at the end of the meeting, we will collect donations for you, Your Eminence. We thank you very much for being with us and listening to your voice. The mayor of Verona, Damiano Tommasi, is also here to greet you. Now, let's begin the interview.
Interviewer: Thank you, Don Domenico. Thank you all. And thank you especially to Patriarch Pierbattista Pizzaballa. It's a pity you can't see this cathedral: on an evening that threatens a universal flood, it is packed to the rafters. Many people have come to listen to your testimony. Before we begin our conversation, I would like to thank you very much. I wanted to ask you how the small Christian community gathered in Gaza, in the parish of the Holy Family, is doing, and if you have had the opportunity to hear from them in the last few hours. What is their situation?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: First of all, good evening. I hope you can hear me well. I apologize once again for not being present, but I felt compelled to cancel all my commitments from September until mid-October. Not knowing how things will evolve and seeing that they are constantly getting worse, it was necessary to be present. Not that we can solve the problems of the conflict, but presence is important, it is encouraging. Moreover, I would not feel comfortable leaving when there is real danger; I would not want to find myself in a situation where something happens to one of our people, as happened last July, and I am not in the diocese. When there are problems, a father stays with his family.
That said, I come to the question. I hear from the parish in Gaza every day, at least when there is internet, because sometimes the connection goes down. I hear from them more than once a day. The community now numbers just under 500 people, divided between our parish of the Holy Family and that of St. Porphyry, the Orthodox church near us. The majority are with us, because St. Porphyrius is smaller and partly destroyed. They are suffering. Compared to the rest of the population, they are perhaps a little more protected, in the sense that 80% of the population of Gaza lives in tents, while ours live in the school. Of course, they live in very poor conditions, with nothing, with two or three families in the same classroom, but at least they have a roof over their heads.
The parish provides a minimum of electricity and a little water. The old priests, who had a good nose for these things, built it on a site where there was a well. So we have access to water; it is dirty, undrinkable, but at least it is there for washing. Then we boil it on the fire and try to drink it. However, the general situation remains very difficult.
There is little food. Last month we managed to bring in 200 tons of food, providing some support. We also distribute aid to families in the surrounding area, reaching about 50,000 people, but it is not much. It is not only a question of quantity, but also of quality, because not everything can be brought in. In early August, we had special permission to bring in fruit and vegetables, and it was the first time they had seen any since the end of January. Meat is very scarce, and it is very rare to see a piece of chicken. The lack of protein and vitamins has a major impact, especially on the most fragile people and children: they tire easily, become nervous, and struggle to concentrate.
These are issues that are rarely discussed, but they are real. And then the bombings are getting closer. This latest operation on Gaza is proceeding very slowly but systematically, with aerial bombardments, drones, and even special robots that enter the streets and houses and explode. Continuously.
Now they are about a kilometer from our compound. Yesterday, for example, there was an invasion of rats. Everyone was beside themselves because, with the bombing and the disruption of infrastructure and sewers, hundreds of rats entered the compound and could not be driven away. Rats that carried everything except the antidote. This situation also creates a lot of fatigue. Another small thing, almost trivial: yesterday one of the priests, Father Carlos, had to extract a tooth, but without anesthesia, because there are no anesthetics. It's not the end of the world, but it serves to describe the situation. What remains of the hospitals lacks basic medicines, antibiotics, and anesthetics. The few that remain are used only in extremely serious cases.
We are in our third year without school. The nuns, the few remaining teachers, and the priests have tried to improvise a school for the hundred or so children in the compound, but otherwise there has been no school for three years. You can imagine what that means. We often talk about hope and the future, but without school everything becomes more complicated. Children who do not go to school can become labor for extremists. The situation is very difficult, much more difficult.
Before the last military operation, I called everyone together. I spoke first in private with the priests and nuns, then with the people, and I told them: “Look, there are no guarantees of safety. You have to decide whether you want to go south or stay. We as a Church will support you in whatever decision you make, but the choice is yours, because we are talking about your lives.” The priests and nuns (especially Mother Teresa's nuns) were clear. Their answer was simple: “If there is a priest, there is the Eucharist, we will stay.” The parish priest added that there are elderly, disabled, and sick people who cannot leave and whom they cannot abandon, so they will stay. “If families decide to leave, one of us will accompany them, the others will stay here.” That was their decision. I told them that we would support them and that God would help us, because there are no guarantees.
In the end, all the families decided to stay. I keep repeating that they must feel free, but they say, “Where can we go? Even in the south, the situation is dramatic. There are tents, there is nothing, it is dangerous.” It is a very complex situation. They say, “We are staying here. If we have to die, we will die here.” And these are people with great faith, a great testimony. Full of life, they are all involved in volunteering, preparing and distributing food. Together with their neighbors, they have organized patrols to defend themselves from the various black market mafias. They are very good. That's enough, I'll stop here, then you can ask me more specific questions, if necessary.
Interviewer: No, let's rewind the tape. I know these are questions you have been asked many times, but in the coming weeks it will be two years since that fateful October 7, 2023. So, what did that date represent for Israel?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: For everyone, not only for Israel, but certainly especially for Israel. It is a watershed. There is a before and an after. There are several elements. For Israeli society, Israel has always been perceived by Jews around the world, and especially by Israeli Jews, as the place where they are at home and feel safe and protected. October 7 broke that inner conviction. They realized they were not safe, because something happened that had not happened since the time of the Shoah. In fact, they call it “a small Shoah.” An old wound has reopened in the Jewish and Israeli consciousness, the trauma that what happened in Europe so many years ago could happen again.
This has broken many mechanisms within Israeli society, both internally and in its relations with the outside world, which are often not understood unless you are here. Of course, Israelis have never been very fond of Arabs, but there was still an awareness of the need to find some kind of status quo, a solution. Now, this mechanism has been broken. What little trust and prospect of political dialogue there might have been has vanished. Israel no longer wants to hear about the Palestinians. Many of those killed on October 7 were pacifist activists from the so-called Israeli left, those who went to Gaza to pick up children and take them to the hospital. There is also a sense of betrayal among the more progressive part of Israeli society. So, we must not confuse the demonstrations against Netanyahu with demonstrations in favor of peace. They are against Netanyahu, but the vast majority of those demonstrating do not want to have anything to do with the Palestinians.
Then there is also a change in the perception of the outside world. They have felt little solidarity, little empathy. What they say is: “The world will always be against us, so we have to defend ourselves. Let them say what they want, but we have to move forward, because this is a fight for our survival.” And when you're fighting for survival, you don't look anyone in the face. So it was a huge watershed, also from the point of view of interfaith dialogue. The dialogue between Catholics and Jews, before and after October 7, cannot be the same. But each topic would take a long time to discuss. Now, with your questions, you will guide me.
Interviewer: I was very struck by the fact that, having both Israeli and Palestinian friends, after October 7 and the subsequent Israeli reaction, the two communities were and are both solely in their own bubbles. My Israeli friends were watching the terrible scenes of the massacre on a loop, and my Palestinian friends were watching the Al Jazeera footage of Gaza. It is as if a gap has been created that is difficult to bridge, at least in the short term. Is that so?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: Let's be honest: this attitude, with everyone in their own bubble, is not entirely new. After October 7, it exploded in an extreme and much more painful way, but everyone speaking from their own perspective was already the case. Even before, Palestinians did not want to say the name “Israel” or take initiatives with Israelis for fear of being accused of working for “normalization.” Contacts were minimal, and each side had its own narrative of the conflict, two parallel narratives that are now separated by a much deeper and more painful rift. Each side is so full of its own pain that it cannot find room for the other's pain. Each side tends to feel that it is the only victim of this conflict. And when your starting point is being a victim, it is more difficult to find room for the other, who is considered your tormentor. It is a very painful situation, which will not end soon. The question is: how to get out of it?
Interviewer: The war will end sooner or later. But the hatred that has built up, which you said already existed before, risks creating an unbridgeable gap. It may take generations to bridge it. But in the meantime, how can we avoid being blinded by resentment?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: The end of the war will not be the end of the conflict. It will be very difficult to get out of it, because the hatred will remain and the underlying problems will not be resolved. If there is no real change on the ground, it will be difficult to start speaking a different language. Everyone will remain in their loop, as you say, and everything that happens will only serve to justify their own narrative. This is at the social and political level.
Then there is work to be done at the community and religious level. For those who believe—and I, with some difficulty, have a little faith—the first thing is to pray. Prayer helps you to distance yourself, to not allow your emotions to overwhelm you. It is important not to be alone. Feeling like a victim leads to fear of others, so building community and creating bonds is essential. Communities that do not defend themselves, but support each other internally. And then testimony is decisive: we need people who put their faces and hearts on the line and give credible testimony of encounter and dialogue. In this situation, we go to the essentials; there is no room for frills. It is a matter of resowing, of reviving that seed and making it grow little by little, creating contexts where life can slowly resume.
Interviewer: In 2016, you were appointed apostolic administrator of that land. You are almost 60 years old, but you have spent more than half your life there.
Cardinal Pizzaballa: Thirty-five, thirty-five years.
Interviewer: If I remember correctly, you arrived on a special day, didn't you?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: October 7, 1990.
Interviewer: Do you remember that day?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: I remember it very well. I had just been ordained a priest in Bologna by Cardinal Biffi, and my provincial, despite my reluctance because I did not want to go, gave me the obedience for Jerusalem, to study biblical theology. I arrived on October 7, but my provincial had forgotten to notify Jerusalem of my arrival. So, when I showed up at the convent, the superior said to me, “I don't know what to do with the provincial's obedience. He is not my superior. There is no place for you here.” That was my welcome to Jerusalem. Then he found me a hole, a room full of dust where perhaps no one had set foot for months. That was my first night in Jerusalem.
Interviewer: And you witnessed some attacks from the very first days, right?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: Yes, it was the period of the Jewish holidays. There was a movement that wanted to lay the first stone of the third temple on the Temple Mount. A stone-throwing incident began and there was a reaction with about twenty deaths, right there in front of it.
Interviewer: Coming from Bologna, you were catapulted into a completely different reality. It must have been a traumatic arrival.
Cardinal Pizzaballa: Let's say it was very complicated, yes. And shortly after, the Gulf War began. We went through a lot, we were never bored.
Interviewer: Christians, both in Israel and Palestine, are numerically insignificant, and the Catholic community even less so. Is there a vocation for this small community in that land where you are a minority?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: The first thing is to be Christians, and here that is never a given. We are few, one percent, so the first thing is to preserve the faith. The second is that our task is not to build bridges or mediate. Conflict is a constitutive part of the identity of this land and this Church. Our vocation is to learn to be Christians within this conflict. Our task is to relate three important and difficult words: truth, justice, and forgiveness.
Here you see injustice every day, not only politically, but in real humiliations. One example is the Allenby Bridge, the only passageway for Palestinians to go abroad. Our young people from the Jubilee were supposed to leave for Rome, but the bridge had been closed. They learned that it would reopen only one day before their departure. They had to sleep there, in front of the bridge, to be sure they could cross the next day and catch their plane. These are humiliations. There are women who have given birth at checkpoints because they did not arrive at the hospital in time.
So, justice. And justice means having the ability to tell the truth, but in a way that does not erect barriers. And then, forgiveness. There is no other way. Violence begets violence. Truth and justice, without the desire for forgiveness, become only accusation. It is necessary to go beyond the pain you have suffered. This is the testimony that Christians can give. I believe this is our vocation.
Interviewer: Yes, forgiveness is an important and difficult word. But, forgive me for asking such a blunt question, don't you think that in your part of the world there is an excess of sacredness, so that God, on both sides, is too often used instrumentally to justify one's actions, even the most inhuman ones?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: Religious fanaticism is the most deleterious of fanaticisms. We must distinguish between faith and religion. Faith is to religion as the soul is to the body. We need both. Religion is the external, social form of the experience of faith. The problem arises when the institutional element prevails over the experience of faith, leading to exploitation. The problem is not God, but what man does with God. And here we see this very clearly. Religious violence is extremely dangerous because it immunizes you from feelings of guilt: if you use God to justify violence, you feel justified.
Interviewer: Are they aware of this?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: Other leaders are not always the most interesting either. Sometimes you find much more incisive people with less high profiles. Interreligious dialogue, especially with the Jewish world, has come to a standstill. We are trying to resume it, especially in view of the 60th anniversary of Nostra Aetate. They felt treated coldly by us after October 7; they said, “You don't understand what this has been like for us.” And on our part, it must be said, there was their silence on what is happening in Gaza. We do not expect them to share our opinions, but we would have expected them at least to express regret for the civilian victims.
After so many years of dialogue, we have reached a point where we are struggling. However, the pain of not understanding each other is a good starting point, because it reveals a desire for relationship. We have realized that we must take a further leap: what we did not talk about before, we must now talk about, with friendship, charity, and truth. I am no longer willing to engage in dialogue between elites. I want to talk to a Jewish rabbi, to someone who has a responsibility to the community, not just to academics.
Interviewer: Let me return to the news. A few days after October 7, we saw Israel's reaction. You used the term “disproportionate.” Why did you use that word?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: I think it's obvious. It was clear that there would be a reaction, but I think we can say that it was not just a reaction to what happened. It also had different objectives, such as the expulsion of Palestinians and the destruction of Gaza, not just Hamas. There was also disproportion in the language. And then, the immense violence against civilians. It is true that they are used as human shields, but there are international laws that establish what to do and how to do it, and this was not done. The ban on bringing in food and medicine has nothing to do with war. All this, without a clear exit strategy, a political objective. It is easy to start wars, but not to end them. Everything that happened on October 7 is a terrible crime committed by Hamas, I have said so, but what is happening in Gaza is not justifiable.
Interviewer: You have been to Gaza several times and in July you said: “Christ is not absent from Gaza. He is there, crucified in the wounded, buried under the rubble, present in every gesture of mercy.”
Cardinal Pizzaballa: The task of the pastor is first and foremost to be there, where your people need you. Going there was important, a sign to make our community understand that it is not alone. I always try to relate what I experience to my faith. When you go to Gaza, you see the pain, the rubble, people buried. There I see Christ crucified. But in this context of inhumanity, it is also important to look for gestures of humanity, people who keep their humanity alive. And you see them in gestures of mercy, of help, of solidarity. And there are many of them, in Gaza as elsewhere. People often ask, “Where is God?” Faith helps you to recognize the person you love everywhere around you, even in the most dramatic situations. I saw it in our small community, everyone involved in volunteering to prepare and distribute food parcels. I see mothers caring for their own children and those of others. And I have not heard a word of hatred from any of our people, only tiredness and incomprehension. These are signs of a beautiful humanity, which are also a great comfort to me.
Interviewer: Some say that with the invasion of Gaza City, we are at the end. How do you imagine the future of Gaza?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: It is very difficult to understand. One thing I can say: the Palestinians will not leave. Some will leave, obviously, but Gaza will not be emptied. If anyone thinks they can drive millions of Palestinians out of Gaza and the West Bank, they are deluding themselves. They will stay there, more determined than ever to rebuild. The Palestinians are tired of being told by others what their future will be. There will be no prospect that does not take into account dialogue and the direct participation of the Palestinians.
Interviewer: Media attention is focused on Gaza, much less on the West Bank, where armed settlers are a crucial problem that could represent a turning point.
Cardinal Pizzaballa: The West Bank is now a lawless land, where settlers can do whatever they want and go unpunished, while Palestinians cannot. The Jenin refugee camp, which borders our parish, has been almost completely destroyed. The space for Palestinians is shrinking more and more, and land confiscations are increasing. Palestinian villages are increasingly surrounded. And we have no one to talk to, we don't know who to turn to. The settlers are expanding, supported by the government, and there is no political authority that can restore a minimum of justice. This government explicitly says that there will be no Palestinian state, and this creates great tension. The thing that creates the most disorientation is not having any authoritative political references. The only space left is that of extremists on both sides.
Interviewer: So there is a lack of leaders up to the challenge, and both Netanyahu and Hamas claim exclusive jurisdiction “from the river to the sea,” with no room for the other. Is the “two peoples, two states” solution still viable?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: I have to answer this question ten times a day. The “two peoples, two states” solution is the only ideal solution, but at this moment in time, it is absolutely unrealistic. It is unrealistic because there is no contiguity of territory, there is no political will, and Palestine lacks a strong and recognized authority. However, Italy was also for a long time only a geographical expression, and this did not prevent Italians from feeling Italian. Why couldn't it be the same for Palestinians?
Interviewer: You dismissed the demonstrations in Tel Aviv by saying that they are not very concerned about the Palestinians. Is there an “other Israel” with a different narrative?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: Yes, but it is a minority. Tel Aviv is a bubble unto itself. There are almost eight million Jews in Israel. How many are demonstrating in Tel Aviv? Half a million? And where are the other seven million? Tel Aviv is the most liberal part, but the rest of the country is totally different. There is a different Israel, but at the moment it does not express great possibilities and will not be able to determine the formation of future governments, which will certainly be center-right.
Interviewer: This is the year of the Jubilee, whose theme is hope. How can hope be preserved, despite everything, in that land?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: Hope never stands alone; it is the daughter of faith. If you believe in something, you can also achieve it. Hope is not “everything will be fine”; it is not optimism. It is a way of living life, of looking at the world with your heart. And hope needs gestures, even small ones, that bring a little light, that give confidence. And gestures need people, credible witnesses who have the courage to carry them out. That is where hope is born. We must not confuse it with the solution to the conflict, because in that case there is no immediate hope. Hope is a way of being in these situations with a different style.
Interviewer: There are more than a thousand people here in the cathedral, and thousands of people have demonstrated in recent days. How can we prevent all this from being just a flash in the pan?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: There is a lot of solidarity, a lot of closeness, a rejection of what is happening. It is a positive aspect that has caught even the rulers unprepared. These movements have made clear in the collective consciousness the sense of justice, dignity, and humanity, which is now part of civil society. This participation is something great and precious, especially in a context of great individualism. It is up to you, to all of us, to keep our eyes open, to want not only a ceasefire, but for justice to be done, for the basic rights of Palestinians to be recognized. May these words—justice, truth, dignity, humanity—become a common heritage that must always find expression, not only in our specific case.
Interviewer: Thirty-five years in the Holy Land. From a spiritual point of view, what has it meant for you?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: A lot. The first thing the Holy Land gave me was a real encounter with the humanity of Jesus, whom I had previously known only by hearsay. Here, in the geography, in the places, it is something you touch in a concrete way. Then, the relationship with the Word of God, linked to the places. And again, I had to rethink my idea of the Church. I came from the lower Bergamo area, where you were Catholic before you were born, and I arrived in a place where no one cares about being Christian. You understand that the Church is not just you, it goes beyond the boundaries you have set for yourself. You meet other Christians who live their faith in a beautiful way, but think differently from you. And this becomes part of you. Finally, there was the encounter with non-Christians. I reevaluated my faith when their questions about Jesus forced me to rethink my Jesus. A Jewish classmate, reading the Gospel, asked me, “Jesus is beautiful, but why do you have to resurrect him? Even without the resurrection, he remains fascinating.” I gave a textbook answer and saw in her eyes that she hadn't understood a thing. It took me some time to understand that the resurrection cannot be explained: it must be encountered.
From the audience: Hearing settlers invoke the Book of Joshua to justify the persecution and death of Palestinians disturbs me greatly. The Bible cannot be used to justify the theft of land and life. Your thoughts?
Cardinal Pizzaballa: Yes, even passages like those in Joshua must be read; we have to deal with them. The Bible can be used for one thing and its opposite. There are passages in Joshua that speak of conquest, but there are many others, in the prophets or in Deuteronomy, that say that the land belongs to God, not to us, and that we must respect the rights of foreigners. Radical interpretations use the Bible as a tool for a political agenda. The problem is not the Bible, but the use that is made of it. In interreligious dialogue, it is important to talk about this too, to defuse what could be a very serious bomb. The discomfort is there, we all feel it, and it is an issue that must be addressed with ever greater frankness. The Bible is clear: the land is an inheritance, but the covenant is between God and the people. If you do not obey God, you lose the land.
Interviewer: One last request. The Patriarchate is 300 meters from the Holy Sepulcher. The first time you go there, we ask you to say a prayer for the Church in Verona, for Bishop Domenico, and for all of us.
Cardinal Pizzaballa: Certainly.
Interviewer: Thank you, thank you very much. And thank you all. Anyone who wishes to do so may leave a donation, which will be sent to the Patriarchate of Jerusalem through the diocesan Caritas.