Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters in Christ, on this blessed Saturday, as we gather in the light of the Resurrection during this Easter season.
Today, we stand at a crossroads—both as a Church and as a global family. The election of Pope Leo XIV, the first American pontiff, is a sign of God’s providence, a reminder that the Church is ever-renewing, ever-adapting, yet unshaken in her mission. As our Lord declared to Peter: “And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.” (Matthew 16:18). This promise is not merely for the past—it is for now, for this moment, when the world so desperately needs the light of Christ.
Pope Leo XIV has called the Church to be “a beacon to illuminate dark nights.” And indeed, the nights grow darker. In Gaza, our brothers and sisters suffer—hungry, displaced, and desperate. The world debates how to deliver aid, while politics and power threaten to overshadow mercy. Yet the words of Saint James echo like thunder: “Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?” (James 2:15-16).
We must not look away. We must not grow numb. The suffering of one is the suffering of all in the Body of Christ. If we allow bureaucracy, greed, or indifference to stand in the way of compassion, then we have failed the Gospel. But imagine—imagine a world where every Christian, every person of goodwill, acted with the urgency of Christ’s love. Imagine food reaching the starving, medicine healing the sick, and peace replacing the machinery of war. This is not a dream—it is a calling.
Yet, even as we look outward, we must also look inward. One of the great wounds in the Church today is the scandal of division—between rich and poor, between tradition and progress, between those who seek refuge and those who turn them away. We cannot be a beacon if our own house is fractured. We must heal, we must listen, and above all, we must act.
The world is watching us, my brothers and sisters. If we do not rise to this moment—if we do not feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, and speak for the voiceless—then what will become of us? The shadows of war, famine, and despair will lengthen. Nations will turn on one another, the vulnerable will be forgotten, and the light of faith will flicker in the winds of apathy.
But this is not God’s plan. His plan is a world restored, a humanity united in love. It begins with us—with our hands, our voices, our sacrifices. Let us be the generation that answers the call. Let us be the light that cannot be hidden.
As our Holy Father reminds us: “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden.” (Matthew 5:14). Let us shine, then, with the brilliance of Christ’s love, so that all may see and believe.
Amen.
What can we do?
The world is full of challenges, but every individual has the power to contribute to positive change. Here are practical ways we can make a difference in our daily lives, inspired by recent events:
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