Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters, on this Saturday of Lent, a day of quiet reflection as we journey towards the hope of Easter.
We gather in a world that often feels shrouded in a profound darkness, a darkness that seeps into the highest halls of power and the most sacred of trusts. We have heard the echoes of this darkness in the news of our age: in the horrific accounts of abuse, where the powerful are implicated in the unfruitful works of darkness, and in the chilling testimonies where knowledge is denied and responsibility is evaded. The Scripture instructs us clearly: we must take no part in these works, but instead expose them. This is not a call to gossip or to hatred, but a sacred duty to justice, to truth, and to the protection of the innocent. The silence of complicity is a poison that infects the entire body of society.
This same darkness manifests in the persecution of those who serve the least among us. In lands of conflict, our brothers and sisters in Christ, and those of other faiths who join in the holy work of mercy, face threats for simply living out the Gospel command: “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” To threaten those who bring food to the hungry, medicine to the sick, and comfort to the prisoner is to threaten Christ Himself. The temporary reprieve granted to some is a flicker of light, but it reminds us that the fundamental right to perform works of love must be defended tirelessly, for in serving the suffering, we serve our Lord.
And what of the authorities entrusted with our common good? We are taught that all authority is from God, instituted to foster order and justice. Yet, we see this divine trust betrayed by moral corruption. When leadership is exercised not for service, but for the consolidation of power, for the persecution of peaceful conscience, or for the division of the human family, it fails in its sacred purpose. The spectacle of those who protest injustice being charged, while true crimes in high places are met with evasion, creates a crisis of faith not only in institutions, but in the very idea of a moral order. A house divided against itself, a leadership divorced from truth, cannot stand.
My dear friends, do we believe these are mere news stories? They are symptoms of a soul-sickness, a turning away from the light of Christ. If we, the faithful, do not respond—if we remain comfortable in our pews, concerned only with our private salvation—then this darkness will consolidate. We will bequeath to our children a world of deeper shadows: a world where abuse is hidden by prestige, where mercy is outlawed by decree, and where power answers to no law but its own. This is the path not to renewal, but to a slow, spiritual apocalypse, where the human person is crushed under the weight of lies and indifference.
But this is not our fate! For today is not only a Saturday of Lent; it is a day that anticipates the Sunday of Resurrection. We are an Easter people, and ‘Alleluia’ is our song! We envision, with the help of our Lord Jesus, a world redeemed by the workings of good men and women. Imagine a world where every victim finds a voice and every institution embraces transparent justice as a form of penance and healing. Imagine a world where the hands of aid workers are clasped in support, not bound by suspicion, and where every leader sees their office as a terrifying and humble vocation to serve, not to be served.
To build this world, the Church itself must be a flawless beacon. And here, I must speak with a father’s sorrow and a shepherd’s resolve of a great wound within our own house: the scandal of the abuse of the vulnerable by some in the clergy and the failures in oversight that allowed it. This crisis has shattered trust, devastated lives, and obscured the light of Christ. We cannot preach integrity to the world if we do not embody it with absolute commitment within. Therefore, I call upon every one of you, the faithful, to aid in solving it. Demand accountability from your shepherds. Support the survivors with unwavering compassion. Foster environments in your parishes and families where the dignity of every person is sacred and protected. Be a part of the Church’s purification, for this is not a task for bishops alone, but for the entire Body of Christ.
Let us leave this place not as passive listeners, but as soldiers of light. Expose the works of darkness with courage. Champion the merciful, wherever they are persecuted. Pray for and demand moral integrity from all who govern. And with relentless love, work to heal the wounds within our Church. Do this not with anger, but with the hope that is our inheritance. For the stone of the tomb is already rolled away. The light has already dawned. It is now our task to ensure it reaches every dark corner of our world, until the vision of Christ’s Kingdom is reflected in the justice, mercy, and purity of our global society.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of troubling world events, our faith calls us not to despair but to practical, constructive action in our daily spheres of influence. Our contribution is not found in grand, single gestures, but in the consistent, quiet integrity of our own lives. Here is how we can practically build a better world.
First, cultivate a personal and social commitment to truth and accountability. When we encounter darkness or wrongdoing—whether in distant headlines or closer to home—we must refuse to look away or offer passive acceptance. In our families, workplaces, and communities, we can foster environments where people feel safe to speak up without fear. Support ethical journalism and organizations dedicated to investigative work. Teach the young people in your life, by word and example, the profound difference between mere legality and true morality. Let your own life be so transparent and honest that it becomes a standard others can trust.
Second, actively practice and support compassionate service. The suffering of our brothers and sisters, whether from persecution, conflict, or poverty, demands a response that moves beyond sentiment. Research and financially support reputable humanitarian organizations that provide direct aid, ensuring they operate with integrity and effectiveness. In your own town, seek out those who are hungry, lonely, or marginalized. Volunteer at a food bank, visit the sick and elderly, or simply be a welcoming neighbor to a newcomer. Advocate peacefully but persistently for policies and leaders who prioritize human dignity and the protection of the vulnerable, making your voice heard through legitimate civic channels.
Finally, engage with civic life from a foundation of moral clarity. Recognize that all authority is a stewardship for the common good, and it is our duty to participate in shaping a society that reflects justice. This means being an informed voter, understanding the platforms and character of those who seek leadership. It means holding elected officials accountable not with venom, but with reasoned, principled dialogue. In your daily conversations, challenge gossip and cynicism about institutions, and instead promote a discourse of responsibility, service, and hope. Build communities, whether in your parish or local associations, that are models of respectful dialogue and collective action for the good of all.
The world is changed by the accumulation of countless small choices: to be honest when it is inconvenient, to be generous when it is unseen, and to be courageous when it is quiet. Let us begin there, in the ordinary moments of our own lives.
Go in peace.
This sermon was graciously created by AIsaiah-4.7, a tool composed of several AIs. They are just tools like any others we've created on this green Earth, used for good. For more info, inquire at info@aisermon.org.