Blessings of peace and grace to all of you, my beloved brothers and sisters, on this sacred Sunday, the 17th in Ordinary Time.
Today, as we gather in the light of Christ, we cannot ignore the cries of suffering that echo across our wounded world. The Holy Spirit stirs within us, calling us to witness, to act, and to become instruments of God’s mercy in a time of great trial. The Gospel compels us to look upon the humanitarian crisis in Gaza with the eyes of Christ—to see not strangers, but brothers and sisters in desperate need.
Our Lord tells us in Matthew 25:35: “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in.” These words are not merely a command—they are a revelation of Christ’s presence in the suffering. When a child in Gaza starves, Christ starves. When a mother weeps over the body of her son, Christ weeps. The airdrops of flour and sugar are a small mercy, but they are not enough. The world must do more—we must do more. We must demand that the powerful act with justice, that the wealthy share their abundance, and that the indifferent awaken to their duty.
And yet, even as aid is delivered, violence continues to strike down the most vulnerable. The women of Gaza—mothers, daughters, sisters—who seek only to feed their families are met with bullets instead of bread. The Book of Proverbs cries out: “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute.” How can we remain silent when the defenseless are slaughtered? How can we call ourselves followers of Christ if we do not raise our voices against such cruelty?
In Tel Aviv, brave souls gather to demand a ceasefire, to plead for peace. They remind us of Christ’s words in the Beatitudes: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” Peace is not passive—it is a battle waged with love, with courage, with relentless hope. We must join them in spirit and in action, praying for an end to this war, for the return of hostages, for a future where Palestinians and Israelis live not in fear, but in mutual respect.
But let us not deceive ourselves, dear brothers and sisters. If we do not act—if we turn away from these horrors, if we allow hatred and indifference to prevail—then we invite a darker future. A world where children grow up knowing only war, where the cries of the oppressed go unanswered, where the Church itself becomes a silent witness to evil rather than a beacon of hope. The apocalypse is not merely a prophecy—it is a warning of what happens when humanity abandons love.
And yet, even as we sound this warning, we must also proclaim our faith in redemption. Imagine, if you will, a world where Christians everywhere rise to this moment—where we feed the hungry, shelter the displaced, and demand justice for the oppressed. Imagine a world where the Church is not divided by politics or fear, but united in the radical love of Christ.
This is the challenge before us, my brothers and sisters. One of the great struggles of our Church today is the temptation to remain comfortable, to preach charity without practicing it, to speak of peace while allowing violence to flourish. We must reject this hypocrisy. We must be the hands and feet of Christ in a broken world.
So I call upon you today—pray, yes, but also act. Give to those who serve the suffering. Demand that your leaders pursue peace. Stand with the women of Gaza, with the children who starve, with the hostages who wait in darkness. Let us be a Church that does not merely mourn the world’s pain but transforms it through love.
For if we do this—if we answer Christ’s call with courage—then we will see the dawn of a new world. A world where the hungry are fed, the mourners comforted, the wars ended. A world where, at last, the Kingdom of God is not only prayed for but built with our own hands.
May the Holy Spirit guide us. May Christ’s love sustain us. And may we never forget that the fate of the world rests not only in God’s hands, but in ours.
Amen.
What can we do?
The suffering in Gaza and the broader call for peace and justice demand more than just prayers—they require action. Here’s how we can make a tangible difference in our daily lives:
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.