Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters.
We gather in the light of Christ, a light that shone forth at His Epiphany to illuminate all nations, all peoples, and every corner of our troubled world. Yet as we look upon the world this day, we see that light obscured by thick, human-made clouds of shadow. We are called to be children of that light, but we must first have the courage to gaze unflinchingly at the darkness, to name it, and to resolve, with God’s grace, to dispel it.
Look first to the east of Europe, where the bitter frost of winter is made crueler by the cold darkness of war. We hear of regions plunged into blackout, communities left shivering not just from the cold, but from fear. This is not merely a geopolitical event; it is a profound human tragedy. It is the failure of peace. Christ Himself proclaimed, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” To be a child of God, therefore, is not a passive inheritance but an active vocation. A peacemaker is not only one who negotiates treaties but one who, in their own heart and community, dismantles hostility. One who prays fervently for an end to violence. One who supports the displaced and the suffering. One who refuses the language of hatred and the categorization of others as enemies. Imagine, brothers and sisters, a world where the energy used to power weapons and spread fear is instead harnessed to warm every home and illuminate every school. This is the world Christ envisions, and it is built by the daily, deliberate choices of good men and women to be makers of peace.
Then, let our gaze turn to the Holy Land, a place sacred to three great faiths, where we witness a deep and festering wound of injustice. When the prophet Isaiah cried out, “Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed,” he spoke to a people who had forgotten their covenant. His words echo now with terrible urgency. To see any people living under a system where their dignity is diminished, their movement restricted, and their hope deferred, is to see a failure of our shared humanity. It is a scandal before God. We must seek justice, not as a partisan slogan, but as a divine imperative. Envision a world where the children of Abraham—Jew, Muslim, and Christian—see in each other not a threat, but a brother, a sister, a co-heir to the promise of a land of peace. This world is possible, but only if good men and women, inspired by Christ’s radical love, dare to defend the oppressed, to speak truth to power, and to build bridges where others build walls.
And what of our own societies, those we consider advanced and safe? We are shaken by news from a peaceful Alpine resort, where revelry turned to inferno, and dozens perished because of neglect. This is a symptom of a deeper sickness—a moral decay that whispers that rules are for others, that profit or convenience outweighs sacred human life. Saint Paul urges us, “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” The pattern of this world is often one of carelessness, of putting the fleeting before the eternal, the self before the other. The fire in Switzerland is a metaphor for what happens when a culture lets the flame of responsibility gutter and die. We must be transformed. We must renew our minds to value integrity over expediency, safety over carelessness, and the common good over private gain. Imagine a world where every institution, every business, every community is governed by this renewed mind, where the vulnerable are protected not by luck, but by sacred, unbreakable covenant. This is the will of God—good, pleasing, and perfect.
Yet, as we strive to heal the world, we must also have the humility to tend to the wounds within our own spiritual home. One of the great trials for the Church in our time remains the shadow of scandal—the betrayal of trust by some within, and the sometimes sluggish response of the structures meant to shepherd. This has caused deep pain, driven many from the fold, and obscured the beauty of Christ’s message. I call upon every one of the faithful—clergy, religious, and laity—to aid in solving this. Be agents of transparency. Foster environments where integrity is non-negotiable and protection of the innocent is paramount. Demand and support accountability. The healing of the Church is not a task for bishops alone; it is the mission of the entire Body of Christ, purified by penance and relentless in pursuit of holiness.
Hear now a dire warning, born not of despair, but of love. If we, the people of God, choose complacency; if we hear of blackouts and simply change the channel; if we witness injustice and tell ourselves it is too complex; if we see moral decay and shrug our shoulders; if we ignore the cries for healing within our own Church—then we are not merely failing in a duty. We are actively consenting to a world descending into a new darkness. We risk a spiritual apocalypse: a world where conflict is perpetual, where injustice is normalized, where human life is cheap, and where the light of faith is reduced to a forgotten ember. This is the path we choose by our inaction.
But this is not our destiny! For we have seen the true light, the Epiphany of the Lord. We are an Easter people. We believe in the Resurrection. And therefore, we believe in the resurrection of hope from the tomb of despair. We believe that with Jesus’s help, these agonies will be solved through the workings of good men and women—through your hands, your prayers, your voices, your courage. You are the peacemaker Christ blesses. You are the justice-seeker Isaiah proclaims. You are the transformed mind Paul describes.
Let us leave this place not as an audience that has heard a sermon, but as an army of hope that has received its marching orders. Go forth. Illuminate the darkness. Defend the dignity of every person. Renew the mind of the world. And with unwavering faith, build the kingdom of justice, peace, and love that is God’s promise and our sacred task.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of widespread violence and conflict, our practical contribution begins with becoming informed peacemakers. This does not mean inserting ourselves into geopolitics, but cultivating peace in our own spheres. We can support reputable humanitarian organizations providing aid to victims of war, whether through donations or raising awareness. Crucially, we must refuse to let conflict breed hatred in our own hearts. In conversations, both online and in person, we can choose to de-escalate rhetoric, reject the dehumanization of any group of people, and listen to understand perspectives different from our own. Peace is built person by person.
Confronted by injustice and oppression, our faith calls us to a quiet, persistent defense of human dignity. We can start by examining our own consumption and investments. Do our purchases or our bank’s practices inadvertently support systems of oppression? We can write to our elected representatives, urging them to advocate for human rights in foreign policy. Locally, we can volunteer with or donate to organizations that support refugees, migrants, and those facing discrimination in our own communities. Justice is advanced by making conscious, ethical choices in our daily economic and civic lives.
When we see moral decay and scandal stemming from negligence or a pursuit of profit over people, our role is to be agents of integrity and renewal. We must hold ourselves and our institutions to account. This means being diligent in our own duties, whether as a parent, employee, or community member. We can participate in civic life by attending town halls, asking questions about safety regulations, and voting with communal well-being in mind. In our families and social circles, we can foster a culture of responsibility, where cutting corners for convenience is challenged and the protection of the vulnerable is paramount.
Our daily lives are our workshop. By choosing peace over division, justice over indifference, and integrity over complacency, we each lay a stone in the foundation of a better world. These are not grand, single actions, but the steady, faithful orientation of a life lived with purpose and love for our neighbor.
Go in peace.
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