Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters.
We gather today in the light of Christ, a light that seeks to penetrate every shadow of our world. We are called to be bearers of that light, to be the salt of the earth, and to recognize the profound dignity of every human person, created, as we are told, in the very image and likeness of God. This fundamental truth is the bedrock upon which we must build our common home. Yet, as we look upon our world, we see this divine image obscured, marred, and trampled underfoot by forces of indifference, hatred, and fear.
We hear the cry of the innocent, a cry that rises to the heavens. In distant lands, men, women, and even children are persecuted for daring to seek righteousness, for longing for a dignity that is rightfully theirs. They are blessed, as the Lord proclaimed, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven, but their suffering here on earth is a searing indictment of our failure to be our brother’s keeper. Their blood, shed in protest and hope, calls out not for vengeance, but for justice, for solidarity, for a global family that refuses to look away. When we close our eyes to such persecution, we close our hearts to Christ Himself, who suffers in them.
We see this sacredness of life disregarded in tragedies that speak not of fate, but of a profound disregard for human worth. When workers perish in a landslide of refuse, crushed by the literal waste of our societies, we must ask: what value do we assign to the laborer? What price do we put on the life of the poor? These are not mere accidents; they are symptoms of a culture that too often treats human beings as disposable, where economic expediency is allowed to overshadow the inviolable dignity of the person. Every life, from conception to natural death, is a masterpiece of God’s creation, and its wanton destruction, whether by violence or neglect, is a desecration.
And we witness the beautiful and fundamental institution of the family, that sanctuary where love is first learned and personhood is nurtured, facing profound confusion and attack. The union of man and woman, a communion of life and love open to the gift of children, is not a human invention but a divine blueprint written into our very nature. To defend this truth is an act of love, for it defends the stable ground upon which society flourishes. Yet, in this defense, we must never, ever become persecutors ourselves. When individuals face hatred, mockery, or injustice because of who they are, we must stand firmly against such malice. To reject sin is one thing; to reject or demean the sinner is to betray the Gospel of mercy. We can uphold the sanctity of marriage without a hint of hatred, and we must, for every person, without exception, deserves respect and love.
My dear brothers and sisters, envision with me, through the eyes of faith, a world transformed by the grace of Christ working through your hands and mine. See a world where the persecuted are protected by a global chorus of advocacy, where every worker labors in safety and justice, and where the family is supported and every person within it cherished. This is not a naive dream. This is our Christian vocation. This is the Kingdom of God, breaking through, here and now, whenever we choose love over apathy, justice over convenience, and truth over fear.
Yet, to build this world, we must first look within our own walls. One of the great wounds our Church bears in modern times is the scandal of division—the bitter factions, the ideological warfare, the failure to listen with humility and charity. We fracture into camps, labeling each other, while the world, in desperate need of Christ’s unifying love, looks on in confusion and scorn. This internal strife paralyzes our mission. I call upon every one of you, the faithful, to aid in solving this. Be agents of communion. Seek first to understand, then to be understood. In your parishes, in your families, online, be a force for respectful unity. Let our disagreement be marked by fraternal love, so that our witness to the world may be credible.
For if we do not act—if we remain comfortable in our pews, indifferent to the suffering, silent in the face of injustice, and divided amongst ourselves—then we choose a different path. We choose a slow, spiritual apocalypse. It is not fire from heaven we must fear, but the chilling darkness of a world without hope, where human dignity is extinguished, where the vulnerable are abandoned, and where love grows cold. It is the apocalypse of the human spirit, where we become mere consumers and competitors, having forgotten that we are brothers and sisters, children of the same Heavenly Father.
But this is not our destiny! We are an Easter people, and “Alleluia” is our song! The Lord has conquered sin and death. He walks with us now. He gives us His Body and Blood to strengthen us for this holy work. Do not be afraid. Go forth from this place. Be a voice for the voiceless. Be a defender of life in all its stages. Be a pillar of your family and a compassionate neighbor to all. Be a healer of divisions within this, our spiritual home.
The world’s problems are vast, but our God is greater. And He chooses to work through you. Through your daily acts of justice, kindness, and humble love, you will help usher in that dawn where His kingdom comes, and His will is done, on earth as it is in heaven.
Amen.
What can we do?
When we see the persecution and suffering of the innocent, as in the tragic loss of life in Iran, our practical response is to become informed and intentional witnesses. This means seeking out reliable news sources that tell the full story of those who are oppressed, not just the political headlines. It means using our voices, however small they may seem, to speak of their plight in our conversations and on our social media, always centering their human dignity. We can support, through donations or volunteer work, the humanitarian and human rights organizations that provide direct aid and advocacy for persecuted people. In our daily interactions, we must refuse to participate in or tolerate the casual persecution of others through gossip, prejudice, or exclusion.
The sanctity of life and human dignity is violated not only in dramatic conflicts but in tragedies like the landfill collapse in the Philippines, where workers lost their lives. We contribute by honoring the dignity of every person we encounter, especially those whose labor we rely upon. This means being conscious consumers. Ask questions: Who made this product? Under what conditions? Support companies and buy products that certify fair wages and safe working conditions. In our own communities, we can advocate for and support local initiatives that ensure safe housing, fair labor practices, and proper waste management, recognizing that a society is judged by how it treats its most vulnerable workers.
To defend marriage and family as a sanctuary of love and commitment, we look to our own homes first. We strengthen our families—whether by blood or chosen bond—through intentional time, patient listening, and unwavering forgiveness. We extend that spirit of sanctuary outward. When we hear of someone, like the footballer Josh Cavallo, facing discrimination for who they are or whom they love, our duty is to create circles of inclusion. In our workplaces, schools, and social groups, we can be the ones who interrupt hurtful jokes, use inclusive language, and make it clear that respect is non-negotiable. Defending the family means ensuring every person can live and love without fear, thus allowing all families to thrive in peace.
Our faith is made practical in these small, daily choices: to be a witness, to be a conscious consumer, to be a builder of sanctuary in our homes and communities. This is how we mend the world, piece by piece, action by action.
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.