Blessings of God’s peace and hope to all of you, my dear brothers and sisters, on this holy Sunday, as we begin our journey through the season of Advent—a time of expectant waiting and preparation for the coming of the Lord.
We gather today in a world crying out—a world fractured by division, shadowed by suffering, and weakened by moral failings. Yet we gather as people of hope, for we know that our Redeemer lives, and that through Him, and through the works of good men and women animated by His Spirit, even the deepest wounds can be healed.
Look at the world around us. See how the children of Abraham—our Muslim brothers and sisters, our Jewish kindred—are torn by conflict and mistrust. Yet, recall the powerful witness of stepping across a threshold in peace, of one spiritual leader entering a mosque not as a conqueror, but as a brother. This simple, profound act echoes the prayer of our Lord Jesus Christ: "That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me." This is not a prayer for mere coexistence, but for a unity that reflects the very life of the Trinity. It is a call to see the face of God in every human person, to build bridges where walls of prejudice and fear have stood for generations. Imagine a world, with Jesus’s help, where our faiths are not causes for conflict, but forces for compassion, where our differences are celebrated as facets of the one truth we all seek.
But how can we speak of unity when our human family is being torn apart by unspeakable suffering? The news from Gaza, from so many other forgotten corners of our globe, sears the conscience. The numbers of the dead, the names of two young brothers lost to the violence—these are not statistics. They are a sacred trust, a piercing cry that reaches the ears of God. For as the Lord Himself told us, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." When a child dies under rubble, Christ is buried there. When a mother weeps, Christ weeps with her. We are called to be the hands of Christ, reaching into this agony with food, with medicine, with the courageous pursuit of justice and peace. Envision a world, guided by Christ’s love, where the machinery of war falls silent, and the resources we pour into weapons are transformed into tools for building, for healing, for teaching. This is not a naive dream; it is the kingdom of God, and we are its builders.
Yet, what undermines our ability to build this kingdom? It is the corruption that festers in the human heart, the moral decay that infects our institutions, even our own. We see it in the scandals that shake nations, where leaders entrusted with the welfare of their people "overthrow the land" for personal gain, as the proverb warns. This is not a problem "out there." It is a sickness that can touch every heart, every community, even the Church.
And here, I must speak with a heavy but hopeful heart of a great challenge within our own Church in these modern times: the scandal of a faith that sometimes appears distant, bureaucratic, and inward-looking, failing to radiate the warmth and mercy of Christ to a world that is spiritually starving. We have at times been more focused on preserving our structures than on serving the suffering; we have been hesitant to embrace the radical simplicity of the Gospel. This is a crisis of credibility, my brothers and sisters. It is a wound that weakens our witness.
Therefore, I call upon you, the faithful—laity, religious, and clergy alike—to aid in solving this. Do not wait for a program from Rome or a decree from your bishop. Begin today. Be the Church that goes forth! Let your parishes be centers of irresistible charity and unwavering hope. Let your families be schools of love and forgiveness. Demand transparency and holiness from your shepherds, but first, live it yourselves. The renewal of the Church does not begin in an office; it begins in your heart, in your home, in your community. We must become a Church that is poor and for the poor, a field hospital for the wounded, a beacon of light in the gathering darkness.
For if we do not—if we choose comfort over conversion, silence over service, and self-interest over self-giving—then we must heed a dire warning. A world that continues on its present path, a humanity that refuses to recognize its fundamental unity and its sacred duty to the least of its brethren, is writing its own epitaph. It is constructing a future not of peace, but of perpetual conflict; not of prosperity, but of plundered resources and poisoned relationships; not of hope, but of a cold, silent despair. This is not the wrath of God from on high; it is the logical, tragic consequence of our own collective sin. We are, piece by piece, choosing a world without God, and a world without God is a world without a future—a spiritual apocalypse of our own making.
But this is not our destiny! This First Sunday of Advent calls us to awake from our slumber! The Lord is near. He comes to us in the cry of the refugee, in the hunger of the poor, in the outstretched hand of a person of another faith. He gives us the grace, this very day, to begin again. Let us go forth from this place, then, not as passive observers of a dying world, but as active agents of its redemption. Let us build the unity for which Christ prayed. Let us tend to His wounded presence in the suffering. Let us purge the corruption from our own hearts and our own house. Let us, with Jesus’s help, through the workings of good men and women, solve these great problems and usher in a dawn of peace.
Amen.
What can we do?
In our divided world, begin by building bridges in your own community. Seek out conversations with people of different faiths and backgrounds. Visit their places of worship as a humble learner, not as a critic. When you meet someone with beliefs different from your own, focus on your shared hopes for peace and family rather than on theological debates. This personal commitment to understanding is the foundation upon which wider peace is built.
Confront the immense suffering in our world by making compassion a daily, active practice. This does not always require grand gestures. You can research and donate to reputable, neutral humanitarian organizations that deliver aid to conflict zones. Advocate peacefully with your elected representatives for diplomacy and civilian protection. In your own neighborhood, extend kindness to those who are struggling—the lonely, the poor, the refugee. See their face and recognize their inherent dignity.
Finally, uphold integrity in every sphere of your life. Corruption is not just a problem for governments; it is a human problem that begins with small compromises. In your work, be scrupulously honest. Reject the temptation to take shortcuts that harm others or benefit you unfairly. Support businesses and leaders who demonstrate transparency and ethical practices. Teach the children in your life, by word and example, that justice is more valuable than personal gain. A better world is constructed not only in global halls of power but in the countless small choices of ordinary people to live with integrity.
Go in peace.
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