Father Pero Miličević lost his father and several family members when Muslim militiamen attacked his village, Dlkani, in Bosnia and Herzegovina on July 28, 1993. The attack resulted in the deaths of 39 people in the village. Thirty-two years later, Father Miličević stated that inner peace is unattainable without forgiveness. He shared his experience while presenting the Pope's message for the 2026 World Day of Peace.
2 months ago
On July 28, 1993, Muslim militiamen from the Bosnia and Herzegovina army attacked the village of Dlkani in the Jablanica district.1 2 3
Thirty-nine Croatian Catholics were killed in one morning, including the father of then-7-year-old Pero Miličević, Andrija, aged 45, along with two aunts and several cousins.1 2 3
Miličević was playing outside with his twin and older brother when gunfire erupted; bullets flew overhead as his mother and sister pulled them to safety.1 2 3
Miličević's mother, Ruža, and her nine children—seven minors—were deported with about 300 other Croatian Catholics to a prison camp called the "Museum" in Jablanica.1 2 3
They endured seven months of extreme conditions: insufficient food, no hygiene, and sleeping on cold granite slabs.1 2 3
Death was routine, but the deepest anguish came from uncertainty about their fate.1 2 3
Daily rosary recitation, taught by their mother, sustained the family amid constant temptation for revenge.1 2 3
Upon release, they buried Andrija's remains—only bones after seven months exposed.1 2 3
Faith provided enduring strength: "We would never have survived without faith, prayer, and the need for peace."1 2 3
Initial rage lingered for years, but ordination as a priest in 2012 marked a turning point.1 2 3
Hearing confessions revealed: "There can be no inner peace without forgiveness."1 2 3
In 2013, he revisited the camp in tears, achieving inner liberation without seeking revenge.1 2 3
Father Miličević shared his story at the Holy See Press Office for the 2026 World Day of Peace presentation.1 2 3
His experience embodies Pope Leo XIV's call: "Peace must be lived, cultivated, and protected"; evil is overcome by good, not revenge.1 2 3
"Goodness is disarming," he quoted, linking personal healing to global peace efforts.1 2 3
Examine Catholic teachings on forgiveness after wartime atrocities
Catholic teaching on forgiveness after wartime atrocities underscores its indispensable role in achieving true and lasting peace, while insisting that it must be rooted in truth, justice, repentance, and a rejection of vengeance. Drawing from encyclicals, papal addresses, and the Catechism, the Church presents forgiveness not as amnesia or weakness, but as a transformative act modeled on Christ's own prayer from the Cross—"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do"—that breaks cycles of hatred and rebuilds human dignity. This approach acknowledges the profound wounds inflicted by atrocities, such as genocides and mass violence, yet calls all parties to a "penitential memory" that honors victims without fueling revenge.
At the heart of Catholic doctrine lies the example of Jesus Christ, who forgave His executioners amid unimaginable suffering. Pope Francis, reflecting on contemporary wars during Palm Sunday 2022, described how Christ is "crucified yet another time" in the victims of bombs, refugees, and soldiers forced into fratricide, urging the faithful to echo Christ's plea for forgiveness as a path to resurrection and hope. Similarly, Pope Benedict XV in 1920 invoked the Our Father and Christ's words on the Cross to exhort Christians to forgive enemies who had wronged them during World War I, emphasizing that divine grace and Christ's example make even "hard and difficult" forgiveness possible.
The Catechism reinforces this: there is no offense, however grave, that the Church cannot forgive through the sacrament of Penance, as Christ desires the gates of mercy open to all who repent, even at life's final moment. Yet, receiving God's forgiveness demands extending it to others; un-forgiveness hardens the heart against divine mercy, rendering it "impervious" to grace. In the context of wartime horrors, this mutual dynamic—forgiving as we are forgiven—becomes a pilgrimage toward reconciliation, as Pope John Paul II described in Sarajevo in 1997: "Let us forgive and let us ask for forgiveness," a journey that transforms enmity into brotherhood.
Papal social teaching consistently links forgiveness to peacebuilding, portraying war's legacy as a "bitter" inheritance of injustice and mistrust that only mercy can heal. In Pacem in Terris (1963), Pope John XXIII prayed that Christ would "banish from the souls of men whatever might endanger peace" and "transform all men into witnesses of truth, justice and brotherly love," imploring rulers to prioritize peace over armaments. He further argued that modern weapons' "terrifying destructive force" renders war unfit for justice, necessitating disarmament rooted in "mutual trust" rather than fear.
Pope Francis echoes this in Fratelli Tutti (2020), insisting that truth accompanies justice and mercy to build peace, preventing any from being distorted. Truth demands acknowledging victims' pain—such as missing relatives or abused children—without leading to revenge, but to "reconciliation and forgiveness." Violence begets more violence, but forgiveness breaks the cycle. He calls for a "penitential memory" that accepts the past to avoid clouding the future, requiring "enduring commitment" to truth, justice, and hope over vengeance. Overcoming evil with good (Rom 12:21) fosters virtues of reconciliation, yielding "profound joy" even amid difficulties. The Compendium of the Social Doctrine affirms that true peace arises only through forgiveness and reconciliation, a "long and difficult process" eased by courageous repentance that faces war's "inhumanity and suffering."
The Church applies these principles directly to historical atrocities, condemning them unequivocally while modeling forgiveness through remembrance and calls for conversion. Pope John Paul II repeatedly expressed "abhorrence" for the Holocaust, the "genocide decreed against the Jewish people" that claimed millions, halting before Hebrew inscriptions at Auschwitz to honor the people of Abraham "doomed to total extermination." In 2005, marking Auschwitz's 60th liberation anniversary, he warned against ideologies justifying contempt for human dignity based on race or religion, praying at Yad Vashem for forgiveness and hearts' conversion. He stressed that no one may pass by such tragedies indifferently, yet remembrance serves not hatred but responsibility: "Never again" must others endure such evil, with love triumphing even in the abyss.
Pope Benedict XVI, addressing military ordinariates in 2011, noted war's abuse of dignity and the limits of law alone; forgiveness "heals and rebuilds" relations, completing fragile human justice. These teachings reject forgetting: forgiveness requires truth about atrocities, as John Paul II linked it to justice in Sarajevo.
Recent papal interventions extend this to ongoing conflicts. In his 2025 address to the Diplomatic Corps, Pope Francis advocated a "diplomacy of forgiveness" to mend hatred-torn relationships, specifically urging an end to Ukraine's bloodshed and a ceasefire in Gaza amid its "shameful humanitarian situation." He prayed for Israelis and Palestinians to rebuild trust, recalling the 2014 Vatican prayer with their leaders as proof that dialogue triumphs over enmity, while decrying arms proliferation.
Forgiveness after atrocities is no easy task; it demands rejecting "empty diplomacy" and "double-speak" for "stark and clear truth," alongside honoring victims' memory. The Church cautions against superficial peace accords ignoring origins of crises, as people deserve truth. Repentance purifies attitudes, accepting the past's weight through mutual pardon. Vengeance diminishes humanity; goodness, though "affronted," shows strength by refusing retaliation.
In summary, Catholic teachings portray forgiveness after wartime atrocities as a divine mandate and practical necessity for peace, inseparable from truth, justice, and repentance. Modeled on Christ, it transforms victims and perpetrators alike, honoring the dead while preventing future horrors. As popes from Benedict XV to Francis attest, it is through this "difficult but necessary pilgrimage" that humanity heals and nations flourish in fraternity.