Blessings of peace, mercy, and the love of Christ to all of you, my brothers and sisters.
Today, we gather under the gaze of a wounded world—a world where the cries of the brokenhearted rise like smoke from the ruins of tragedy, where the groaning of the oppressed echoes in the halls of power, and where the innocent suffer under the weight of violence and injustice. Yet, even in this darkness, we are called to be bearers of light, for the Lord is close to the brokenhearted, and He saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18).
The Scourge of Suffering and the Call to Compassion
Just days ago, the earth trembled with grief as an airliner fell from the sky, claiming 241 lives—mothers, fathers, children, each a universe of love extinguished in an instant. Only one survived, a solitary witness to the fragility of human life. How do we respond to such sorrow? Do we turn away, numbed by the frequency of tragedy? Or do we, as Christ commands, weep with those who weep?
Imagine a world where no plane falls from the sky because human hands have labored to ensure safety, where no family mourns because greed and negligence have been cast out by justice. This is the world Christ calls us to build—one where suffering is not met with indifference but with the relentless love of His disciples.
The Cancer of Corruption and the Demand for Integrity
In Spain, a nation rich in faith and history, the people groan under the weight of corruption (Proverbs 29:2). Leaders who should be shepherds have instead become wolves, feasting on the trust of the flock. When the wicked rule, hope withers, and cynicism takes root. But we must not surrender to despair.
Imagine a world where leaders tremble not at the loss of power, but at the thought of betraying the poor. Where governments are not dens of thieves but temples of service. This is possible—but only if the righteous rise, if men and women of faith refuse to be silent, if we demand integrity not only in others but in ourselves.
The Martyrdom of the Innocent and the Cry for Justice
In Gaza, a doctor—a healer—watched as his nine children were swallowed by fire. His hands, meant to mend, were shattered by the same violence that stole his family. Blessed are those who are persecuted, Christ tells us (Matthew 5:10), but woe to those who deliver the blows!
Imagine a world where no child dies beneath bombs, where no father cradles the lifeless body of his son. Where the weapons of war are beaten into plowshares, not by kings, but by the ordinary faithful who refuse to let hatred reign. This is the Kingdom we are called to proclaim—not only in words, but in deeds.
The Church’s Trial and the Call to Action
Yet, even as we labor for the world, we must not ignore the sickness within our own house. The Church, our Holy Mother, suffers from the scourge of division—between rich and poor, between tradition and progress, between those who seek mercy and those who demand rigor. We cannot heal the world if we are fractured ourselves.
I call upon you, my brothers and sisters: be peacemakers. Mend what is broken. Let no schism, no pride, no coldness of heart keep us from the unity Christ prayed for. The world is watching. If we fail in love, we fail in everything.
The Choice Before Us: Heaven or Hell on Earth
But hear this warning, dearly beloved: if we do not act—if we do not rise up as the hands and feet of Christ—then the shadows will deepen. The innocent will continue to perish. The corrupt will tighten their grip. The earth itself will groan under the weight of our indifference.
Yet, if we rise—if we love fiercely, serve selflessly, and demand justice unrelentingly—then the Kingdom will come near. The hungry will be fed. The mourning will be comforted. The oppressed will go free. This is not a dream—it is a divine mandate.
Let us leave this place not as passive observers of a broken world, but as soldiers of mercy, as builders of the Kingdom. For the Lord is close to the brokenhearted—and He works through us.
Amen.
What can we do?
In a world marked by tragedy, corruption, and suffering, it’s easy to feel powerless. But each of us, in small and practical ways, can contribute to healing and justice. Here’s how:
1. Respond to Loss and Suffering
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