A Father’s Easter Prayer for Peace
As a child, I looked forward to the Easter holiday with unbridled excitement and joy. I have vivid memories of colorful baskets, chocolate, candy, and egg hunts. My family is Catholic, and our traditions included attendance at St. John’s in North Cambridge for what seemed like an interminable Easter Sunday mass. My 8-year-old self paid less than rapt attention to the gospel stories describing Christ’s resurrection, thinking instead of returning home to the thrill of finding hidden treasures.
I still remember the feeling of springtime, which meant baseball and new beginnings: I was hopeful.
Today, as an adult father of a 15-year-old boy, I am fearful.
I am worried about the future of our country, the conflict with Iran and the safety of my son. Our president, Donald J. Trump, ordered U.S. military strikes on Iran that he claimed were aimed at destroying Iranian missiles and naval capabilities. This action was taken without first seeking congressional approval pursuant to the War Powers Resolution, and the president has never provided Congress, or the country, a specific description of any imminent hostilities we faced or the scope of our military involvement. My son, along with all our sons and daughters, is part of the generation that will bear the burden and suffer the consequences of a lasting, escalating conflict. This is unacceptable.
During the past few weeks, I have spoken with other parents in my neighborhood who are also unnerved by recent events. At Sarah’s Market over coffee, in the parking lot of St. Peter’s, on the bleachers in the Peabody School gym, I’ve heard different words used to describe the same almost inconceivable fear. A father who has faithfully attended every one of his son’s baseball practices for years told me he now has trouble sleeping. A mother who has always driven any group to any destination told me she has recently been reminiscing about her uncle, who returned from the Vietnam War a shell of himself. A loyal coach, a eucharistic minister, a gas station attendant, and a pizza shop owner each expressed severe dismay over this conflict.
Most resonant for me was a conversation I had with the mother of one of my son’s closest friends. She said she doesn’t fear war in headlines, but whenever she considers the thought that the world could take her only son from her, she can’t breathe.
I know that feeling.
The current leader of the Catholic church, Pope Leo XIV, is the first pope born in the United States. He assumed the papacy last May after the death of Pope Francis, the first Jesuit pope. Like Francis, Leo holds a deep and abiding commitment to mercy, social justice, the poor, migrants, and refugees. As a Jesuit-educated lawyer, I am moved by their reflections. Especially now.
After praying the Angelus in St. Peter’s Square on March 1, Pope Leo called on all countries involved in this conflict to “assume the moral responsibility of stopping the spiral of violence before it becomes an irreparable abyss.” He said, “Stability and peace is not built with reciprocal threats nor with weapons that sow destruction, pain and death, but only through a reasonable, authentic, responsible dialogue.”
Easter is a season of hope, renewal, and compassion. It is my hope that our President will work for peace through diplomacy. Lives, families, and futures hang in the balance. I pray that dialogue, understanding, and humanity will prevail over conflict.
This Easter, may we choose hope over fear, and peace over war.
* A variation of this letter was first published in Cambridge Day, April 3, 2026