Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters, gathered here and joined in spirit across the world.
We gather in this sacred season of Advent, a time of watchful waiting, of hopeful anticipation for the coming of the Light into our shadowed world. It is a season that holds a profound tension: we look with joy to the Prince of Peace, even as we stand amidst a world that seems, in so many ways, to have turned its back on His teachings. Today, we must confront this darkness, not with despair, but with the unwavering hope that is our birthright as children of God. For our hope is not a passive wish, but an active force—a call to participate in the divine work of redemption.
Look upon the fields of conflict that scar our common home. We hear the rhetoric of ultimatums, the cold calculus of force, the thunder of distant artillery that shakes the very earth. In Ukraine, and in so many other lands whose names flicker briefly across our screens, the precious gift of peace is shattered. To this, the Lord speaks with clarion simplicity: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” This is not a blessing for those who merely enjoy peace, but for those who make it, who build it with their hands, their words, and their courage. A world healed by Christ’s grace is a world where diplomacy is pursued with holy persistence, where the dignity of every nation is respected, and where the resources spent on instruments of death are transformed into instruments of life—for feeding the hungry, healing the sick, and teaching the children. Imagine that world, my brothers and sisters! It is not a fantasy; it is our Christian vocation. We are called to be those peacemakers, in our families, our communities, and by demanding of our leaders a justice that is the only true foundation for lasting peace.
And why must we seek this peace with such urgency? Because its absence fuels the second great wound we behold: the persecution and suffering of our brothers and sisters in faith. From the Middle East to Africa, to parts of Asia, men, women, and children are harassed, imprisoned, and tortured for the name they bear, for the Christ they follow. We have heard the harrowing testimony of one who endured captivity and torment. To all who suffer thus, the Lord proclaims: “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Theirs is a witness written in blood and tears, a testament to a faith that the world’s cruelty cannot extinguish. A world transformed by Christ’s love is one where no one kneels in worship in fear, where the Cross is a sign of hope, not a target for hatred. We cannot be silent spectators to this passion. We must see their face in the face of our persecuted Lord, and respond with fervent prayer, with advocacy, and with open arms of welcome. They are the living stones of the Church, and we must not let them be crushed alone.
Yet, what hope can we offer if the very structures meant to guide society are corrupted? We see it in the halls of power, in international bodies, and, with a sorrow that pierces the heart, even within our own Church. The ancient wisdom warns us: “By justice a king gives a country stability, but those who are greedy for bribes tear it down.” Corruption, the pursuit of power and privilege over the common good, is a spiritual sickness that destroys trust and destabilizes the world. It is a betrayal of the poor, a mockery of justice, and a scandal before God. When leaders, secular or ecclesiastical, serve their own interests rather than their people, they build on sand. And let us speak with pastoral clarity: one of the great wounds within the Church in our time is the failure of moral leadership, the scandal of abuse and its concealment, which has shattered the trust of the faithful and obscured the beauty of Christ’s message. This is a crisis that calls not for whispered gossip, but for courageous action, for purification, and for a renewed commitment to transparency and humble service from every member of the Body of Christ.
Therefore, I call upon you, the faithful of the world. Do not be mere observers of this age. You are the peacemakers. You are the voice for the persecuted. You are the demanders of justice and integrity, beginning within our own spiritual home. Advent calls us to awake from sleep! For I must deliver a warning, born not of fear but of love: if we, the followers of Christ, retreat into private comfort, if we allow cynicism to paralyze us, if we think the problems of war, persecution, and corruption are too vast for our small hands, then we consent to a deeper darkness. We will see more fields laid waste, more innocent blood cried out from the ground, more children growing up knowing only fear, and more institutions, including our Church, hollowed out by mistrust. This is not the will of God; it is the triumph of human failure. It is a path that leads not to life, but to a desolation of our own making.
But this is not our destiny! For the Child we await is the Light that no darkness can overcome. He does not work alone. He works through you. Through your prayers that storm heaven. Through your charity that heals wounds. Through your just dealings in business and public life. Through your demand for accountability from your shepherds. Through your forgiveness that breaks cycles of hatred. With Jesus’s help, channeled through the workings of good men and women, the problems of this age will be solved. We will build a world where swords are beaten into plowshares, where every chapel stands secure, and where leaders serve with clean hands and pure hearts.
Let this Advent, then, be a season of holy revolution. Let your waiting be active. Let your hope be a hammer. Let your faith be a fire that lights the way out of this present darkness. The dawn is coming. Let us be the people who are not afraid to welcome it, to work for it, and to become, ourselves, reflections of its everlasting Light.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of war and conflict, our contribution begins with the discipline of our own words and the focus of our attention. We can refuse to spread hatred or dehumanizing rhetoric about any people or nation. We can seek out reliable news sources that provide context, not just sensation. We can support, through donations or advocacy, the humanitarian organizations providing aid to all victims of war, regardless of side. In our communities, we can be the ones who bridge divides, gently correcting misinformation and fostering conversations rooted in our shared humanity, not in tribal animosity.
Confronted with the reality of persecution and suffering, we are called to practical solidarity. This means educating ourselves about the plight of persecuted communities, not just Christians, but all who suffer for their faith or conscience. We can write to our political representatives, urging them to prioritize religious freedom and human rights in foreign policy. We can support charities that provide direct aid, legal assistance, and resettlement help to refugees and survivors of persecution. Most personally, we can offer a compassionate ear and a supportive community to those in our own circles who carry unseen wounds from trauma or discrimination.
Regarding moral leadership and corruption, our power lies in our own integrity and our engaged citizenship. We must demand transparency and accountability from our leaders, not through cynicism, but through active, informed participation in civic life. This means voting conscientiously, attending local council meetings, and asking clear questions of those in authority. In our professional and personal lives, we commit to absolute honesty, rejecting even the smallest temptation to cut ethical corners for personal gain. We support and celebrate journalists and whistleblowers who expose corruption, understanding that a just society requires light to be shone in dark places. We teach the next generation, by example, that true success is built on service and character, not on power or wealth acquired unethically.
These are not grand, distant gestures, but the daily work of building a better world through conscious choice. It is in the word we refuse to speak, the donation we make, the letter we write, the vote we cast, and the honest transaction we complete. This is how faith becomes action, and how hope is made real.
Go in peace.
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