Blessings of peace, and the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, to all of you, my brothers and sisters.
We gather today in a world that groans under the weight of its own contradictions. We possess a knowledge that can heal the sick and feed the hungry, yet we wield a power that can incinerate cities and shatter the very bonds of human community. We proclaim the dignity of every person, yet we witness a culture that too often treats life as disposable, from the womb to the warzone to the lonely death on a city street. We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, the saints who show us the path to heaven, yet we can become distracted, our spiritual gaze lowered from the eternal to the ephemeral.
Consider the specter of war, which once again casts its long, cold shadow across our world. The cry of the peacemaker, blessed by our Lord, is drowned out by the thunder of artillery and the rhetoric of division. We hear of conflicts that risk spiraling beyond borders, where the language of a third world war is uttered not as a historical lesson, but as a present danger. This is not merely geopolitics; it is a profound failure of the human spirit. It is the rejection of the other as a brother, as a child of the same Heavenly Father. When we choose violence, we do not merely break treaties; we break the very image of God within ourselves and within our enemy.
And what is this violence but the ultimate denial of life’s sanctity? The commandment “You shall not murder” is the bedrock of a civilization of love. Yet this sacred principle is assaulted from all sides. We see it in the grand theater of war, and we see it in the shocking, intimate violence that erupts in our own communities—a man with a weapon at a home, a life extinguished in a moment of chaos. Each act whispers the same diabolical lie: that some lives are obstacles, that some persons are problems to be eliminated. This cult of death, whether on a battlefield or a street corner, is a direct affront to the Creator of Life.
In the face of this darkness, where do we turn? We look to that “great cloud of witnesses.” We remember, like the faithful in Italy venerating the bones of Saint Francis, that we are not the first to face a fractured world. The saints are our proof that the Gospel works. They are not distant statues, but our elder siblings in faith who ran the race before us. They show us that a life of radical peace, profound respect for all creation, and unwavering focus on Christ is not a fantasy, but the only true reality. Their witness is not a relic of the past, but a living challenge to our present.
Let us envision, for a moment, the world Christ desires and empowers us to build. Imagine a world where the peacemakers are not the exception, but the norm—where diplomats, activists, teachers, and parents build bridges with the mortar of justice and compassion. A world where the sacredness of every life, from conception to natural death, is the unshakable foundation of our laws, our economies, and our personal choices. A world where we run our race unencumbered, our eyes fixed on Jesus, supporting one another, inspired by the saints who cheer us on from eternity. This is not a naive dream. This is the Kingdom of God, breaking through, whenever and wherever good men and women cooperate with the grace of Jesus Christ.
Yet, to build this world, we must first heal our own home. One of the great wounds within the Church in our time is the scandal of division—the bitter polarization that sets brother against brother, sister against sister, within the very Body of Christ. We fracture into camps, labeling each other, hardening our hearts to dialogue, and in doing so, we grievously wound our unity and cripple our witness to the world. A house divided cannot stand. How can we preach peace to nations if we cannot find peace among ourselves? How can we champion the dignity of every person if we deny charity to those within our own communion with whom we disagree? I call upon every one of you, the faithful, to be artisans of reconciliation within the Church. Listen more. Judge less. Seek first to understand. Pray for those you find difficult. Let the Eucharist we share be the true source of our unity, stronger than any ideological bond.
For if we do not act—if we remain passive in the face of war, indifferent to the culture of death, distracted from our holy witnesses, and content with our internal divisions—then we choose a different future. We risk a world not of peace, but of perpetual, fragmented conflict. We risk a society where life is valued only for its utility, leading to a spiritual barrenness more desolate than any desert. We risk a Church that becomes a meaningless echo of the world’s quarrels, rather than a beacon of transcendent hope. This is the path not to life, but to a slow, collective soul-death. The apocalypse we fear is not merely one of fire and explosion, but of the cold, silent extinguishing of love, hope, and faith from the human heart.
But this is not our destiny! We are children of God, called to be peacemakers. We are stewards of the sacred. We are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses. Today, we recall one such witness, Saint Polycarp, the bishop and martyr. When pressed to renounce Christ to save his life, he declared, “Eighty-six years I have served Him, and He has done me no wrong. How can I blaspheme my King who saved me?” He held fast to the sanctity of his faith and the truth of his life in Christ, even unto fire. In his unwavering courage, we see the model for our own perseverance.
So, let us go forth from this place not in fear, but in fiery hope. Let us be the peacemakers in our families and communities. Let us defend life in all its frailty and glory. Let us fix our eyes on the saints and on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. And let us, with humility and courage, begin the work of healing the divisions within our Church. Do not wait for another. Do not believe your actions are too small. With the help of Jesus, through the workings of good men and women, the world can be remade. The choice is before us. Let us choose life. Let us choose peace. Let us choose love.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of war and violence, our practical contribution is to become a conscious peacemaker in our own sphere. This means actively rejecting the language of division and dehumanization in our conversations, especially online. Support humanitarian aid organizations providing relief to all victims of conflict, regardless of side. In your community, foster dialogue by listening respectfully to those with different viewpoints, not to argue, but to understand. Advocate for and support diplomatic solutions, remembering that true peace is built on justice and human dignity.
To honor the sanctity of every life, we must cultivate a profound respect that extends from the womb to natural death, and to every moment in between. This translates to practical compassion: check on a lonely neighbor, offer kindness to someone who is struggling, and refuse to participate in gossip or rhetoric that diminishes another's humanity. Support local crisis pregnancy centers, soup kitchens, or organizations that assist the elderly and isolated. In a polarized world, choose to see the irreplaceable value in every person you encounter, especially those with whom you disagree.
Regarding religious veneration, let the witness of holy lives inspire not just private devotion, but public virtue. Let the example of figures like St. Francis—who embraced poverty, peace, and care for creation—compel you to tangible action. Simplify your life and share your surplus. Make a conscious effort to protect God’s creation through daily choices. Most importantly, "run your race" by persevering in your own commitments: be a faithful family member, a trustworthy colleague, and a dedicated participant in your community. Let your actions be a living testament to your values.
These are not grand, distant gestures, but the daily fabric of a life lived intentionally. We change the world by first changing the atmosphere around us—in our homes, workplaces, and neighborhoods—through consistent acts of peace, respect, and inspired action.
Go in peace.
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