Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters, on this Saturday, a day we set aside to honor the Blessed Virgin Mary, our model of perfect faith and courageous action.
We gather in a world that cries out. It cries out from the ancient stones of the Holy Land, where the vulnerable, the oppressed, the fatherless and the widow of our age plead for a defender. We hear the mayor of Hebron’s lament, “We are not protected,” as power is consolidated and people are shut out from the decisions that shape their very homes and futures. The prophet Isaiah’s command echoes across the centuries and into this conflict: “Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed.” This is not a political slogan, but a divine mandate. It is a call to recognize the sacred image of God in every person, especially those whose dignity is trampled by the machinery of power, fear, and indifference. We must ask ourselves: in our global family, who plays the role of the oppressor, and who, by our silence, consents to it?
This cry from the world is mirrored by a sickness within the halls of human power—a moral corruption that festers in darkness. We see it in the shocking revelations that link the mighty of commerce and industry with the most profound degradations of human dignity. When a leader must step down for consorting with the purveyor of darkness, it is a symptom of a disease. Saint Paul instructs the Ephesians, and instructs us: “Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.” This corruption is not merely a personal failing; it is a structural sin that poisons institutions, erodes trust, and tells the young that power and wealth are licenses for evil. It is a scandal that mocks the Cross.
And where does this poison ultimately flow? It seeps into the most sacred sanctuary God has given us: the family. It attacks the very source of life and love. We hear of a family shattered, not by an external force, but by a tragic unraveling from within, linked to a medication’s terrible toll. This story is a single, heartbreaking window into a global crisis. The family, the domestic church, is under assault from a culture that often views children as a burden or a choice, rather than what the Psalmist proclaims: “a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.” When addiction, financial betrayal, broken trust, and a culture of death wound the family, we wound the foundational cell of society and the first school of love. We disconnect the future from its source.
My brothers and sisters, do we see the pattern? The oppression of the vulnerable, the corruption of the powerful, and the disintegration of the family are not isolated plagues. They are strands of the same rope that threatens to bind humanity in a new despair. If we continue on this path—if we choose indifference to injustice, complicity with corruption, and neglect of the family—we are not merely facing social decline. We are courting a spiritual apocalypse. We risk building a world devoid of mercy, a civilization where the human person is commodified, where power is god, and where love is a forgotten language. This is the desolation we choose if we remain passive.
But today is not a day for despair. It is a day for the audacity of Christian hope. We must envision, with the eyes of faith, the world Christ died to save and rose to sanctify. Envision, with me, a world where good men and women, animated by the Holy Spirit, rise up. See a world where lawyers, diplomats, and ordinary citizens “learn to do right” and build systems that protect the poor of Hebron and every place. See a world where whistleblowers and journalists, in the light of Christ, courageously “expose the deeds of darkness,” cleansing our institutions. See a world where families, supported by the whole community, are healed and strengthened, where every child is welcomed as the precious reward they are. This is not a utopian dream. This is the Kingdom of God, breaking through, in time and history, through our hands, our voices, and our votes.
For this to happen, the Church itself must be a flawless instrument, a beacon of hope. Yet, we are a Church of sinners, and one of our most persistent wounds is the scandal of division—the way we fracture along lines of ideology, preference, and politics, within these very walls. We rend the seamless garment of Christ with our bitter words and our hardened hearts towards one another. This internal strife cripples our witness. It tells the world we have no greater love to offer. I call on every one of you, the faithful, to aid in solving this. Begin here. Forgive a slight. Seek understanding before condemning. Find common ground in the Creed and in Charity. Let our unity be the first great work of justice we perform, so that a united Church can truly be a light to the nations.
The task is great, but we do not labor alone. We have the example of Christ, who entered into the suffering of the oppressed, who drove the corrupt from the Temple, and who blessed the children. And we have the example of saints, like Cyril and Methodius, who brought the light of the Gospel to a new people not by conquest, but by invention, translation, and profound respect for the culture they encountered. They built bridges of understanding. In a world fractured by conflict and corruption, we are all called to be such bridge-builders.
So, let us leave this place not as an audience, but as an army of peace. Let us defend one vulnerable person. Let us reject one shadow of corruption in our own sphere. Let us strengthen one family. Let us heal one division within our parish. Do this not with grim duty, but with the joyful hope of co-creators, knowing that with Jesus’s help, and through the workings of good men and women, the desert will bloom. The choice is before us: to collaborate in the coming of the Kingdom, or to sleepwalk into the apocalypse of our own making. Choose life. Choose love. Choose to build.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of these complex world events, our faith calls us not to despair but to concrete, practical action in our own spheres of influence. Our contribution begins in the quiet of our own conscience and extends through our daily choices. Here is how we can practically respond.
Regarding the protection of the vulnerable and the pursuit of justice, our task is to become informed and intentional consumers and citizens. Seek out news sources that explain the human stories behind conflicts, not just the political positions. When you shop, take a moment to learn about the supply chains of products, especially those from regions of tension, and support companies with transparent and ethical practices. In your own community, identify a local organization that serves the marginalized—a food bank, a legal aid clinic, a shelter—and commit to regular support, whether through volunteering, donations, or simply amplifying their work. Justice is built by consistently choosing to see and uplift those whom systems ignore.
Confronting moral corruption and scandal requires a commitment to integrity in our own professional and personal circles. In your workplace, have the courage to speak up against unethical practices, however small they may seem, and champion transparency. Support investigative journalism by subscribing to reputable outlets that hold power to account. Teach the young people in your life, by example and conversation, about the profound difference between legal compliance and true ethical conduct. Most practically, refuse to participate in or quietly condone the "small darknesses" of gossip, deceit, or cutting corners. A society's moral health is restored one honest action at a time.
To uphold the sanctity of life and family, we must practice a radical attentiveness to those closest to us. Actively support families in your community, especially those struggling with illness, financial stress, or isolation. Offer practical help: a meal, childcare, or simply your presence. Advocate for and support medical research and healthcare policies that take the whole person—and their family—into account, recognizing that treatment involves more than just a symptom. Within your own family, fiercely protect time for connection, free from the distraction of screens, and create a culture where struggles can be shared without shame. The strength of the human family is fortified in these small, daily acts of love and priority.
Our faith is lived in the material world. It is in these tangible, everyday decisions—what we buy, how we work, who we notice, and where we offer our time—that we participate in the great work of healing a wounded world. Start precisely where you are.
Go in peace.
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