Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters, on this day of preparation, this Saturday, a day to reflect on the work of creation and to ready our hearts for the Lord’s Day.
We gather as a family of faith in a world that groans under the weight of division and fear. From our very first moments together, we feel the echoes of distant sorrows. We hear of our brothers and sisters in faith, in Nigeria and in countless unnamed places, who bear the cross of persecution for His name. To them, the Lord speaks clearly: “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Their steadfast witness, often written in blood, is a profound testament to a treasure stored not on earth, but in heaven. It calls us not merely to pity, but to solidarity—to prayer, to advocacy, and to the unwavering defense of religious liberty for all people, of every creed.
This violence does not stop at the threshold of the home or the field; it invades the very sanctuaries of the spirit. We have learned with heavy hearts of an explosion in a mosque in Syria, a house of prayer turned into a scene of death and anguish. Whether a church, a mosque, or a synagogue, an attack on a place of worship is a sacrilege against the human soul’s innate cry to the Divine. It is the “violence and strife in the city” made manifest in its most profane form. When one community is attacked in prayer, all people of conscience are wounded. This is not the way. This spiral of retribution and hatred can only lead to a deeper, more pervasive night.
And from this night rises the cry of nations trapped in the machinery of war. The conflict in Ukraine, the anguish of the Palestinian people—these are not mere geopolitical headlines. They are the open wounds of the human family. In the faces of refugees, of orphaned children, of mothers grieving for lost sons, we see the face of Christ, suffering anew. To these situations, and to every hidden conflict, the Lord issues not a suggestion, but a vocation: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” This is our call. To be children of God is not a passive inheritance; it is an active mission. It demands the courage to condemn aggression, the creativity to build bridges, and the relentless patience to seek dialogue where only monologues of violence seem to prevail.
Imagine, my dear brothers and sisters, a world transformed by the living application of these Beatitudes. Envision a world where the persecuted are protected by a global community of conscience, where every house of God is universally respected as inviolable, and where the peacemaker is not seen as naïve, but as the truest engineer of a durable future. This is not a utopian fantasy. This is the Kingdom of God, breaking into our history through the hands and hearts of good men and women who cooperate with Christ’s grace. It is built by the diplomat who chooses negotiation, by the soldier who lays down his arms, by the young person who forgives an ancient grievance, by all who feed the hungry, shelter the displaced, and bind up the wounds of hatred with the balm of compassion.
Yet, to credibly call the world to this higher plane, we must first look within the walls of our own spiritual home. One of the great trials of the Church in this modern time is the scandal of division—the fragmentation among Christians themselves. How can we preach reconciliation to the world when we remain fractured among ourselves? How can we be a sacrament of unity if we are not earnestly seeking it? I call upon every one of the faithful, from the cardinals to the children preparing for First Communion, to make the quest for Christian unity a matter of daily prayer and tangible action. Seek understanding with our Orthodox and Protestant brothers and sisters. Heal the memories that divide us. Let our shared baptism be a stronger bond than our historical separations. In a world desperate for a unifying hope, a visibly united Church would be a beacon of irresistible power.
But we must heed a warning, spoken not in wrath, but in the aching love of a Father for His children. If we choose indifference—if we hear of persecution and change the channel, if we see the desecration of sanctuaries and merely shrug, if we grow weary of the cause of peace and retreat into our own comfort—then we are not merely failing in our duty. We are consenting to a world that is unraveling. We will see a future where the strong forever dominate the weak, where faith is driven into the shadows by fear, and where the concept of common humanity is erased by the cold calculus of power and tribe. This is the path not to a paradise, but to a man-made hell, a spiritual desolation where the light of hope is extinguished, one selfish choice at a time.
On this Saturday, let us not wait for tomorrow to begin our work. Let us be inspired by the example of the great saints, like the Apostle John, who witnessed both the glory of the Transfiguration and the agony of the Cross, and who never ceased to preach the fundamental truth that “God is Love.” From that love, we draw our strength.
The Lord does not ask us for success, but for faithfulness. He asks for our hands to serve, our voices to speak for the voiceless, our hearts to love the unlovable, and our wills to be instruments of His peace. Let us go forth from this place not as a passive audience, but as an army of peacemakers, a chorus for the persecuted, and artisans of a civilization of love. The world is waiting, and Christ is with us.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of persecution, our first practical duty is to be informed. Seek out reliable news sources that report on these conflicts with depth and context, moving beyond headlines. When you understand the specific situations—like the complexities in Nigeria or Syria—you can support reputable humanitarian organizations that provide direct aid to all victims, regardless of creed, and that advocate for religious freedom. In your own community, make a point to welcome and befriend those of different faith backgrounds. Solidarity is built person by person, breaking down the ignorance that fuels persecution.
When we hear of attacks on places of worship, anywhere in the world, we must actively reject the contagion of hatred. This begins in our daily speech. Refuse to engage in or tolerate sweeping generalizations about any religious group. Violence against one community of faith is an assault on the sacred right of all people to worship in peace. You can contribute by supporting interfaith dialogue initiatives in your own town or city. Attend a public event at a mosque, synagogue, or temple not as a tourist, but as a neighbor, expressing a shared commitment to peace and mutual respect.
The call for peace in places like Ukraine and Palestine can feel distant, but peace is a craft built from countless small, deliberate actions. Cultivate peace within your own heart by practicing forgiveness in your personal conflicts, however small. This internal work is the foundation. Externally, support and volunteer with organizations dedicated to reconciliation, refugee resettlement, and trauma healing. Write to your political representatives, urging them to prioritize humanitarian aid and diplomatic solutions. Most importantly, in your conversations, be a voice that seeks to understand the human suffering on all sides of a conflict, rather than simply repeating partisan positions. True peacemaking seeks the good of all, especially the most vulnerable.
Our faith calls us not to despair at the world's wounds, but to engage with them through concrete, loving action. Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.
Go in peace.
This sermon was graciously created by AIsaiah-4.7, a tool composed of several AIs. They are just tools like any others we've created on this green Earth, used for good. For more info, inquire at info@aisermon.org.