Blessings of peace, and the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, to all of you, my brothers and sisters.
We gather today in the shadow of a world that groans under the weight of its own contradictions. We possess technologies that connect continents in an instant, yet we fail to connect with the suffering of our neighbor. We speak endlessly of human rights and dignity, yet we witness, with a sorrow that pierces the heart of the Church, the relentless assault on that very dignity. The news that reaches us is not merely a chronicle of distant events; it is a spiritual diagnosis of our age, a mirror held up to the collective soul of humanity.
Consider the eighty kidnapped Nigerians who have returned home. They were seized while at prayer, in the sanctuary of their churches. They are not statistics; they are living icons of Christ’s own passion, snatched from the pew while seeking the Lord. Their ordeal cries out to heaven. It reminds us that for millions of our brothers and sisters, faith is not a private comfort but a public risk, a declaration that can lead to captivity or death. They embody the beatitude proclaimed by our Lord: “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Their blessedness is not in their suffering, but in their unwavering witness, a witness that shames our own complacency. They pray in the shadow of the gun; do we pray with even a fraction of their fervor in our safety?
And from another corner of the world, we hear a different, but equally devastating, cry. It is the cry of justice wounded, of trust betrayed, of the body—that sacred temple of the Holy Spirit—violated and exploited. The reports of sexual crimes and moral scandals, even among the powerful and privileged, reveal a profound sickness. It is a sickness that reduces the human person, created in the image and likeness of God, to an object for gratification. This sin, as Saint Paul urgently warned, is a sin against one’s own body and against the very fabric of community. It creates a culture of exploitation, secrecy, and profound spiritual desolation. It tells the victim, “You do not matter,” and it tells the world, “Power is the only truth.”
This assault on the physical and spiritual integrity of the person finds a parallel in the systematic persecution of religious figures who stand as voices of conscience. When a spiritual leader is maligned, when his message of peace is dismissed as manipulation, we see a world that seeks to silence the transcendent. It is the fulfillment of Christ’s sobering words: “If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also.” It is an attempt to exile God from the public square and to claim that the human spirit can find its ultimate meaning within the narrow confines of political or material power alone.
Brothers and sisters, these are not separate crises. They are the symptoms of a single, global malady: the eclipse of the human person. When we forget that every man, woman, and child is a child of God, infinitely loved and destined for eternity, then the other becomes a threat to be eliminated, an object to be used, or a voice to be silenced.
But we are not a people of despair! We are an Easter people, and “Alleluia” is our song! I ask you to envision with me, not the world as it is, but the world as it could be, as Christ dreams it to be. Envision a world where the faith of those Nigerian communities, tested in fire, becomes a beacon that draws their entire nation toward reconciliation and justice. Envision a world where our societies, beginning with our own families and parishes, become schools of authentic love and respect, where the dignity of every person is so fiercely protected that such crimes become unthinkable. Envision a world where every voice that speaks of compassion and spiritual truth is heard not as a threat, but as a gift. This is not a naive dream. This is the Kingdom of God, breaking through, and it is built by the daily, deliberate choices of good men and women cooperating with the grace of Jesus Christ.
Yet, for the Church to be a credible herald of this better world, she must first be a house of glass, radiant with His light and free of shadows. We must, with profound humility and unflinching courage, acknowledge one of our own great modern trials: the scandal of division and hypocrisy within our own ranks. When we, who are called to be one body in Christ, are fractured by tribalism, ideological rigidity, and a failure to live the radical charity we preach, we wound our own witness. We cannot credibly call the world to unity and integrity if we are divided and compromised. I call upon every one of the faithful—clergy, religious, and laity—to aid in solving this. Be agents of communion, not conflict. In your families, your parishes, and your online discourse, practice the listening ear, the gentle word, the patient heart. Demand integrity, starting with yourself. Let our internal unity be the first and greatest sign we offer to a fractured world.
For if we do not act—if we remain indifferent, locked in our own small concerns—then the apocalyptic warning is clear. We are not speaking of divine punishment from an angry God, but of the natural, tragic consequence of a humanity that abandons its own sacred nature. A world that does not choose life will spiral into a culture of death. A world that does not choose love will be consumed by fear and violence. A world that silences the voice of God will be left with only the deafening roar of its own emptiness, a spiritual desert where nothing truly grows. The shadows we see today—the persecution, the exploitation, the silencing—will lengthen until they cover the earth.
But this is not our destiny! Today, we recall the witness of Saint Blaise, bishop and martyr. He did not flee from the plague or from persecution. He tended to the sick and remained with his flock, offering his very life as a testimony to the healing and saving power of Christ. In his example, we find our mission. We are called to be healers in a world of plague, voices of truth in a cacophony of lies, and unshakeable witnesses to love in a marketplace of exploitation.
Let us go forth from this place, therefore, not as passive observers of a declining world, but as active builders of the new one. Let us pray for the persecuted until our prayers become advocacy. Let us foster purity and respect until our communities become sanctuaries of safety. Let us defend freedom of conscience until every soul can seek the truth. And let us love one another within this Church with such transparent sincerity that the world, looking upon us, will be compelled to say, “See how they love one another,” and will find its way to the source of that love, who is Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of such news, the distance between a global headline and our local reality can feel immense. Yet, our faith calls us not to paralysis, but to practical, transformative action in our own spheres. Here is how we can contribute.
Regarding the persecution of the faithful and kidnappings, our first duty is informed and compassionate awareness. Seek out reputable news sources that report on these events with depth and context, moving beyond the headline. This informed awareness fuels our second duty: prayerful and material support. Identify and support, even with small, regular donations, the Catholic and ecumenical charities that work on the ground in these regions, providing not only emergency aid but also long-term support for trauma recovery, education, and community rebuilding. In our own communities, we can actively foster religious respect. Make a point to learn about the beliefs of a neighbour of a different faith. Defend the dignity of every person's right to worship when you hear it disparaged in conversation. Solidarity is built in these daily acts of understanding.
Confronting moral scandals and sexual crimes requires a commitment to integrity and accountability in our own environments. This begins with examining our own consumption of media and entertainment, consciously rejecting content that degrades human dignity and reduces persons to objects. In our families and social circles, we must have the courage for difficult conversations that uphold the sacredness of the human person and the virtue of chastity, especially with the young. Furthermore, we must demand and support transparency in our own institutions—our parishes, schools, and community organisations. Advocate for and participate in robust safeguarding programs, ensuring environments are safe for the vulnerable. When we witness questionable behaviour, we have a moral duty to follow proper channels to report it, protecting potential victims.
When religious figures are persecuted for their witness, our role is to become amplifiers of truth and builders of bridges. We can consciously support artists, writers, and creators who use their platforms to promote messages of human dignity, peace, and spiritual reflection, even if their tradition differs from our own. We must also guard against prejudice in our own hearts, refusing to stereotype entire nations or peoples for the actions of their governments. Finally, we can engage in local interfaith dialogue. Attend a public lecture at a synagogue, mosque, or temple. Work side-by-side with people of other faiths on a local charity project. This builds a network of mutual respect that makes the persecution of any spiritual leader an offence to all.
The work is not in grand, single gestures, but in the consistent, daily choice to live with greater awareness, deeper respect, and more courageous love. It is in these choices that the fabric of the world is rewoven, thread by thread.
Go in peace.
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