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Pope Leo XIV’s upcoming Apostolic Journey to France will also bring him to Metz where Robert Schuman, one of the founders of the European Union, grew up. Cardinal Jean-Claude Hollerich, Archbishop of Luxembourg, reflects on this important figure and how his experience of living in border areas shaped his political action and ideas.
By Cardinal Jean-Claude Hollerich*
To be at a border is to find oneself in a place where several realities can be viewed simultaneously. A border can become a place of tension, but also a place of encounter and fruitful exchange. It is therefore not merely a line that separates.
Robert Schuman experienced this reality in a very concrete way.
A French statesman, Robert Schuman was born in Luxembourg on June 29, 1886. The very fact of his place of birth already offers a clue to the political situation of Lorraine and of this border region that would profoundly shape his life.
His father came from Evrange, a village in Lorraine situated on the Franco-Luxembourg border. After 1870, Evrange became part of Germany. Although the whole family spoke Moselle Franconian [A West Central German dialect, editor’s note], Robert Schuman’s father considered himself French and emigrated for this reason to Luxembourg, his wife’s homeland.
It was there, at the Luxembourg primary school, that Robert Schuman learned French.
This family and geographical history is important for understanding the future Father of Europe. Robert Schuman would be deeply shaped by the experience of a life lived between several identities: born in Luxembourg, coming from a Lorraine family, belonging to a Franconian culture, speaking French and German, and later becoming a French statesman.
A French patriot, his life experience prevented him from becoming a nationalist. He pursued his studies in Germany and experienced several cultures, languages, and traditions from within.
This experience enabled him to understand that it was possible to defend one’s own identity without regarding that of another as a threat. Perhaps it was precisely because he was a man of the border that he could understand the need to overcome divisions between peoples without denying their identities.
As a student at the Luxembourg Athenaeum, the young Robert Schuman was deeply influenced by popular devotion to Our Lady of Luxembourg, Consoler of the Afflicted.
At that time, the Athenaeum was housed in the former Jesuit college, near the cathedral. During the two-week national pilgrimage to the cathedral, the students of the Athenaeum could hear the sound of the brass bands accompanying the parishioners’ processions. This experience of popular faith in Luxembourg surely had an influence on the young Robert.
The statesman whom Europe would come to know was also a man of prayer, deeply shaped by his Christian faith. It is important to hold these two dimensions of his personality together: Schuman was a man of prayer and a man of action.
His faith did not lead him to withdraw from the political world. On the contrary, it helped engage him more deeply in the pursuit of the common good, justice, and peace. His spirituality, meticulous character, and attention to detail enabled him to transform a profound conviction into concrete political action.
Utopian visions of a united Europe had emerged throughout the centuries: from Kant’s vision to the “Grand Design” of Sully under Henry IV; from Richard Coudenhove-Kalergi and his Pan-European project to the visions promoted by resistance organizations fighting Nazi Germany.
These projects expressed a profound aspiration for unity and peace. Yet they often remained difficult to translate into political reality. This is precisely where Schuman brought something new. He was able to reconcile idealism and reality.
In his declaration of May 9, 1950, he stated:
“Europe will not be made all at once, or according to a single plan. It will be built through concrete achievements which first create a de facto solidarity.”
This sentence admirably sums up his method. Schuman did not want to build Europe solely through grand declarations or beautiful utopias. He wanted to begin with concrete achievements capable of gradually creating solidarity among peoples.
For him, it was not enough to dream of a better world. One had to work to build it. His European project was therefore based on a simple but decisive conviction: peoples who had once been enemies could become partners and build their future together.
Schuman, a man of prayer and action, could only suffer from the hatred that divided the French and Germans after the war. The horrors of the concentration camps wounded his soul.
Yet he did not choose the path of hatred and permanent confrontation. He chose the path of reconciliation. This is probably one of the most important aspects of his legacy.
After the horrors of the war, it would have been understandable to seek revenge. Instead, Schuman chose to build a new relationship with Germany. For a man as deeply Christian as he was, reconciliation could not be merely a political strategy. It had to become a moral and human imperative.
But Schuman also possessed the realism necessary to understand that reconciliation had to take concrete form in institutions and structures. What had been at the heart of European conflicts had to be transformed into an instrument of cooperation.
Reconciliation thus became a political project. The Church and the Pope constantly remind us of the importance of peace. The process of European integration has enabled Europe to experience peace over a long period.
Schuman’s example shows that a vocation to politics can have meaning. Politics can be a genuine vocation when it is placed at the service of the human person, justice, and peace. It can become a place where the wounds of history are gradually transformed into paths toward the future.
The world and Europe need men and women capable of reconciling ideal and reality, people who are tireless artisans and builders of peace.
We need young people, men and women of prayer and conviction, who are not afraid to enter the “jungle” of politics in order to work for peace and justice, to confront the challenges of today’s and tomorrow’s world.
Schuman’s example reminds us that faith should not lead us to flee from the realities of the world. On the contrary, it can give us the courage to face them and to work for their transformation.
One could say that Schuman transformed the experience of living in a border area into an experience of encounter. Where the border could have become a wall, he wanted to build a bridge. Where history had created mistrust, he wanted to create trust. Where war had left wounds, he wanted to build reconciliation.
His European project therefore remains profoundly relevant today. For Europe is not a finished reality. It remains a work to be built, generation after generation.
It needs women and men capable of looking beyond borders without renouncing their identities, of defending their homeland without despising that of their neighbor, and of transforming differences into opportunities for cooperation.
This man who was born in Luxembourg, a land of borders, perhaps teaches us more than anyone else that borders can separate peoples, but that they must become the places where their encounter begins.
*Archbishop of Luxembourg
