Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters, gathered here and joined with us in spirit across the world.
We gather in a time of profound contradiction. Our world is one of breathtaking technological connection and yet cavernous spiritual isolation. It is a world that can produce images of sublime beauty and, in the next instant, use the very act of creation to sow discord and desecrate the sacred. We have heard of a fresco, a work intended to lift the soul toward the divine, manipulated to serve a fleeting worldly fascination, its image scrubbed away in a turmoil of controversy. This act, small in one sense, echoes a greater sickness: the reduction of the sacred to the profane, the turning of symbols of heavenly grace into tools for earthly dispute. It is a symptom of a culture that has forgotten how to venerate, how to approach the mystery of God with humble awe, choosing instead to dominate and distort even the signs He gives us.
This loss of reverence is not a solitary evil. It finds its terrible parallel in the roar of explosions that fall upon the innocent. We speak of children, the "little ones" of the Gospel, whose lives are extinguished in the conflicts of the powerful. When violence is visited upon the defenseless, when a child’s future is buried under rubble, it is not merely a political failure; it is a cosmic cry that pierces the heart of God. Each life lost is an entire universe of possibility, of love, and of faith, extinguished. To cause such suffering, or to permit it through our indifference or our chosen hatreds, is to invite a spiritual drowning far more profound than any physical sea. We stand warned: a world that makes a habit of sacrificing its children on the altars of ideology, nationalism, or vengeance is a world building its own millstone.
And from the public square of conflict to the hidden chambers of corruption, we see another plague: the abuse of power for the degradation of the human person. We hear of the mighty and the wealthy treating human beings, often the vulnerable and the poor, as objects for their gratification. This "sexual immorality" of which Saint Paul speaks is never a private vice. It is a sin that radiates outward, a toxic abuse of authority that shatters dignity, silences voices, and creates a hell of shame and trauma for its victims. It is the ultimate betrayal of the trust that society places in its leaders and institutions, for it attacks the very body and spirit of the human family.
Yet, my brothers and sisters, do not let your hearts be troubled. We are not a people without hope, for we are a people of the Resurrection. I ask you to envision, with the eyes of faith, the world Christ desires for us. Envision a world where the artist’s brush is guided not by the desire for scandal, but by the longing to manifest the true, the good, and the beautiful that points to the Creator. Envision a world where the resources spent on weapons are transformed into tools for building, where borders are crossed not by missiles but by caravans of aid, and where the laughter of children, of every nation and creed, is the dominant sound in our streets. Envision a world where power is exercised not as domination, but as Christ-like service, where every person is seen not as an object to be used, but as a brother or sister in Christ, a temple of the Holy Spirit, worthy of absolute respect.
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 grace. It is built by the parent who teaches their child reverence. It is built by the citizen who demands peace from their leaders. It is built by the young person who respects the dignity of every friendship. Jesus does not wave a celestial wand to erase our problems; He empowers our hands to solve them. He is the vine, and we are the branches. The healing of the world will flow through our works.
And here, in humility, I must speak of a wound within our own house, a problem that weakens our witness and dims our light: the clericalism that can poison the Church. This is an attitude that places the ordained above the people, that fosters secrecy, that misuses spiritual authority and has, in terrible instances, created a culture where the abuse of the vulnerable could be hidden. This is a crisis of our time. I call upon every one of the faithful—laity, religious, and clergy—to aid in solving it. We must be a Church of radical transparency, of humble accountability, where every voice is heard and every person, especially the least among us, is protected. Demand this of your shepherds. Support them in this purification. Be active members of this Body, not passive spectators. The Church must be a field hospital, and a hospital must first be clean.
For if we do not act—if we choose apathy, if we accept the desecration of the sacred as normal, if we grow numb to the cries of children, if we tolerate the corruption of power—then we choose a different vision. We choose an apocalypse of our own making. A world without reverence becomes a world of idols, where we worship ourselves and our tribes, and that idolatry always ends in bloodshed. A world that abandons its children abandons its own future, becoming a spiritual desert, a hollowed-out civilization where the wind only carries the dust of its own regrets. A world that excuses the abuse of the body destroys the very fabric of trust and love, leaving only isolation and fear in its wake. This is the path we walk without Christ, without courage, without love.
But this is not our path. We walk in the light. Today, we remember Saint Agatha, a young woman who, in the face of terrible violation and power misused, held fast to her consecration to Christ. Her body, a temple, was not desecrated by the intentions of her persecutors, for her spirit remained inviolate, united to God. In her witness, we see the ultimate answer to the world’s plagues: a fidelity so profound that it transforms even suffering into a testimony of love. Let her example, and the example of all the saints, inspire us.
Go forth, then, my brothers and sisters. Be artisans of reverence in a world of scorn. Be unyielding protectors of the innocent in a world of violence. Be guardians of purity and dignity in a world that trades in flesh. And be fervent reformers of love within our beloved Church. Do not be afraid. For we do not work alone. The Lord is with us. And with His help, through the workings of good men and women, a new dawn awaits.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of events that wound our shared humanity—the defacement of sacred art, the violence that claims innocent lives, and the abuse of power that degrades human dignity—we can feel overwhelmed. Yet, our faith calls us not to despair, but to practical, daily action. Our contribution is not found in grand, distant gestures, but in the integrity of our own small circles. Here is how we can begin.
First, regarding the disrespect shown to sacred spaces and art, we can cultivate a profound reverence for the dignity of all places and people. Practically, this means actively respecting the spaces you enter, whether a church, a public park, or a community hall. It means speaking against casual vandalism when you see it and teaching the young people in your life, by example, to value beauty and history. Support local artists and craftspeople who create works that uplift the community. In a world that often reduces everything to a political statement, choose to see the inherent worth in things, and defend that worth with quiet respect.
Second, confronted with violence against the innocent, especially children, our task is to become relentless builders of peace and protectors of the vulnerable. This starts in the home, by fostering a non-violent environment where conflicts are resolved with words and empathy. Support, through time or resources, the local organizations that shelter families, feed the hungry, or tutor at-risk youth. Be a vigilant and caring presence in your neighborhood; a simple, friendly check on an elderly neighbor or a kind word to a stressed parent is a brick in the fortress of community. Advocate, through legitimate civic channels, for policies that prioritize human life and dignity over retaliation and conflict. Choose to consume media that clarifies rather than inflames, and refuse to let hatred or prejudice take root in your own heart.
Third, against the corruption of sexual immorality and the abuse of power, we must commit to personal integrity and the defense of others. This requires examining our own lives and relationships, ensuring they are grounded in respect and selfless love, not objectification or use. In your workplace and social circles, have the courage to challenge inappropriate speech or behavior that demeans others. Believe and support those who come forward with stories of abuse, and champion environments—in schools, clubs, and offices—where boundaries are clear and respected. Mentor the young, teaching them by word and deed about healthy, respectful relationships and the true meaning of consent and personal worth.
Our power lies not in controlling global events, but in mastering our own responses. We mend the world's fabric one thread at a time: the thread of our personal reverence, our daily commitment to peace, and our unwavering respect for the inviolable dignity of every person we meet. This is our practical worship. This is our active faith.
Go in peace.
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