I think it's naive to pray for world peace if we're not going to

“I think it’s naive to pray for world peace if we’re not going to change the form in which we live.” Thus spoke Godfrey Reggio, the visionary filmmaker whose works sought to reveal the broken harmony between man and the world. In these words lies a piercing truth: that peace is not a gift that descends from the heavens without effort, nor is it a dream fulfilled by prayer alone. True peace demands a transformation in the very form of our lives—the way we live, consume, build, and treat one another. To hope for peace while clinging to lives of discord is as foolish as sowing no seed and expecting a harvest.

When Reggio names it naive, he rebukes the tendency of men to cry out for peace while nourishing habits of war in their daily existence. We pray for harmony, yet indulge in greed. We long for unity, yet embrace division. We yearn for justice, yet benefit from injustice. To such a people, prayers for peace are empty words cast into the wind. For peace is not a sentiment, but a way of life. It is woven not in lofty wishes but in the humble choices of every day: how we speak, how we treat the earth, how we honor the dignity of others.

History itself testifies to this principle. Consider the Roman Empire, which called its dominion the Pax Romana, the Roman Peace. But this so-called peace was built upon conquest, upon the enslavement of peoples and the iron discipline of legions. It was not true peace, but the silence of those crushed beneath the yoke. It endured for a time, but crumbled, for it was not rooted in justice. Compare this with the teachings of Mahatma Gandhi, who not only prayed for freedom but changed the very form of resistance—replacing violence with nonviolence, domination with truth-force (satyagraha). His peace was not naive, for it demanded sacrifice, discipline, and a new way of life.

Reggio’s words are also a mirror to our modern age. We pray for peace even as we consume the earth with insatiable hunger. We long for peace while dividing ourselves by wealth, by nation, by race, by creed. We ask for peace while our industries poison rivers, while our greed drives men into poverty, while our pride stirs hatred. Can such a world truly hope for peace? Only by changing the form in which we live—shaping lives of simplicity, stewardship, justice, and compassion—can our prayers become more than empty breath.

Yet his words are not meant to despair us, but to awaken us. For change is within our grasp. If each man and woman alters even the smallest patterns of life—choosing kindness over cruelty, moderation over excess, reconciliation over revenge—the form of the world begins to shift. And as the form changes, so too does the future. Peace does not descend as a miracle—it is constructed, brick by brick, through transformed lives.

The lesson, then, is this: do not merely pray for peace, but live as though you truly desire it. Let your household be a sanctuary of gentleness. Let your work be marked by fairness. Let your heart be trained to forgive. For every act of peace lived is a prayer made flesh, a seed sown in the soil of tomorrow. If the form of your life does not change, then your prayer is hollow; but if your life is transformed, then your prayer becomes a river that nourishes the earth.

Practical action must follow: consume less, love more, listen deeply, resist injustice, forgive quickly. Walk gently upon the earth, and let your peace not be in word alone, but in deed. For as Reggio teaches, to hope for peace without change is naive; but to live peace in daily form is the beginning of a new world.

Thus let these words echo in every soul: peace is not wished—it is lived. And if you would see the world transformed, begin by transforming the form in which you live.