Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters, on this holy Sunday, as we await with joyful hope the coming of our Lord in this final week of Advent.
We gather today in a world that groans, a world that cries out for the healing only Christ can bring. We see this pain etched in the headlines of our time, in stories that wound the human heart and offend the dignity bestowed upon every person by our Creator. In the quiet of this sacred space, let us not turn away from that pain, but rather, let us bring it before the manger, before the God who chose to enter into the very depths of our suffering.
We hear, with profound sorrow, of the violation of the human person, of acts that seek to strip a child of God of their sacred worth. When any man or woman is subjected to abuse, to torture, to the desecration of their bodily temple, it is an offense that cries out to heaven. For as our Lord taught us, what is done to the least of our brothers and sisters, is done to Him. To wound another is to wound Christ Himself. There can be no justification, no political cause or state security, that can ever legitimize the crushing of a human soul. This sin festers in darkness, but we are called to be children of the light—to protect the vulnerable, to demand accountability, and to rebuild a culture where every life is revered as holy.
We witness, too, the terrible harvest of violence, the sudden snuffing out of life in places of ordinary passage. A metro station, a street, a home—transformed in an instant into a scene of terror and loss by the knife, the gun, the bomb. The commandment “You shall not murder” is not a mere suggestion; it is the foundational law of a civilization of love. Each act of violence is a rebellion against the Giver of Life, a declaration that our rage or our ideology is more sacred than the breath of our neighbor. We have grown numb to the reports, but each name lost is a universe of hope extinguished, a family shattered, a community left trembling.
And we observe the corrosion of justice, where power is twisted to serve not the common good, but private gain. When the wicked accept bribes in secret to pervert the course of justice, the entire edifice of society begins to crumble. The poor are defrauded, the innocent are condemned, and trust—the very glue of human community—dissolves. From palaces to parliaments, when leaders betray their sacred duty for corruption, they do not merely steal money; they steal the future from their people, especially the young who look for models of integrity and find only hollow men.
My brothers and sisters, do these realities mean we surrender to despair? Do we conclude that the darkness is too great? Never! For today is Sunday—the day of the Resurrection! It is the day we proclaim that love is stronger than hate, that truth is more powerful than lies, and that life conquers death eternally. We are not called to be mere mourners of a broken world. We are called to be its healers, its rebuilders, its peacemakers. Envision with me, through the eyes of faith, the world Christ desires and empowers us to build.
Imagine a world where every prison cell is a place of repentance and restoration, not of degradation. Where every courtroom rings with impartial truth. Where every street and station is safe, because every heart has learned to cherish the stranger. This is not a naive dream. This is the Kingdom of God, and it is built by the daily, deliberate choices of good men and women animated by the Spirit of Jesus. It is built by the teacher who instills respect, by the lawyer who defends the powerless, by the nurse who tends wounds with tenderness, by the citizen who demands transparency, by the parent who teaches their child that every life is a masterpiece of God.
Yet, to credibly call the world to healing, we must first be a healed and holy Church. One of the great crosses we bear in our time, a source of immense shame and scandal, is the failure within our own household to fully protect the little ones entrusted to us. The shadow of clerical sexual abuse has inflicted a deep wound on the Body of Christ and driven many from the fold. We cannot speak of human dignity to the world if we do not zealously, transparently, and relentlessly uphold it within our own walls. I call upon every one of you, the faithful—parents, grandparents, lay ministers, priests, and bishops—to aid in solving this. Be vigilant. Demand and support protocols of safety and accountability. Create environments where victims are heard, believed, and embraced with compassion. Do not allow a culture of silence or deference to enable evil. The purification of the Church is not a task for bishops alone; it is the duty of every baptized member to be a guardian of holiness and a protector of the innocent.
For if we do not act—if we remain indifferent, complacent, or locked in our own private concerns—then we must heed a dire warning. The path we are on leads not to a renewal, but to a spiritual apocalypse. A world where dignity is routinely trampled becomes a hell of exploitation. A world normalized to violence becomes a graveyard of the soul. A world built on corruption becomes a prison of cynicism where no one can trust, and no one dares to hope. And a Church that does not purify itself will be like a lamp hidden under a bushel, its light extinguished, its voice irrelevant, having abandoned the very Gospel it was meant to proclaim. We will have chosen, through our inaction, a world of shadows over the Kingdom of Light.
But that is not our destiny! The Fourth Sunday of Advent calls us to vigilance, to awake from sleep, for our salvation is nearer now. The Lord is at hand. He comes to us in the hungry, the thirsty, the prisoner, the abused, the grieving. He comes to us in the call to justice, to peace, to integrity.
Do not leave this place today unchanged. Let the hope of the coming Christ ignite in you a holy urgency. Be the hand that lifts up the fallen. Be the voice that speaks for the voiceless. Be the heart that forgives and seeks to mend. Build, in your family, your parish, and your community, an outpost of that Kingdom where love is the law, mercy is the currency, and justice is the foundation.
The dawn from on high is about to break upon us. Let us go forth to meet it, not as passive observers, but as active participants in the great divine work of making all things new.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of profound challenges to human dignity, life, and justice, our faith calls us not to despair but to concrete, practical action in our own spheres of influence. Our contribution begins with a clear-eyed view of the world and a commitment to reshape our immediate environment with integrity and compassion.
Regarding the defense of human dignity, especially in the wake of reports of abuse, we must become guardians of respect in our own communities. This means actively listening to and believing those who come forward with stories of mistreatment, offering them support without judgment. We can educate ourselves on the signs of trauma and become advocates for policies in our workplaces, schools, and parishes that create safe environments and ensure robust, transparent accountability. In our daily interactions, we must fiercely reject any language or humor that objectifies or demeans others, treating every person we meet as someone of inviolable worth.
To honor the sanctity of life amidst a culture of violence, we are called to be peacemakers. This starts with managing our own anger and choosing dialogue over confrontation in our families and neighborhoods. We can support local initiatives that address the roots of violence, such as mentoring programs for at-risk youth, mental health resources, and community mediation services. Practically, we can also cultivate a non-violent mindset by critically examining the media we consume, refusing to glorify brutality, and instead promoting stories of reconciliation and peaceful resolution.
To combat corruption and champion justice, we must first ensure absolute integrity in our own conduct. This means being scrupulously honest in our finances, refusing to participate in even "minor" acts of deceit for personal gain, and fulfilling our duties with fairness. We can use our voices as citizens by voting for candidates committed to transparency, by demanding accountability from our local institutions, and by supporting independent journalism that investigates wrongdoing. In our professional lives, we have the power to create cultures of fairness by rewarding merit, speaking up against unethical practices, and protecting those who blow the whistle on corruption.
These are not grand, distant gestures, but the daily work of building a better world from the ground up. It is through this faithful, persistent practice of dignity, peace, and integrity in our own lives that we become a leaven for the whole world.
Go in peace.
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