Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters in Christ.
We gather today in a world that groans under the weight of suffering, a world that cries out for compassion, for righteousness, and for justice. We are confronted daily with images of tragedy, with the stark reality of human frailty and the profound consequences of sin. We see it in the wreckage of a funicular in Portugal, where lives were extinguished in an instant, and a small child was pulled from the chaos—a stark reminder of the “least of these” whom our Lord calls us to serve. In that child’s survival, we see a flicker of hope, a divine summons to recognize that in tending to the wounded, the grieving, and the broken, we are tending to Christ Himself. For as it is written, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.”
Yet our world’s anguish is not born only of accident and misfortune. It is also woven by the hands of those in power who have lost their way. We hear whispers from halls of leadership that chill the soul—discussions not of service, but of self-preservation; not of legacy, but of a misguided quest for earthly immortality. When rulers cling to power not as a sacred trust but as a personal possession, the people indeed groan. There is a moral decay that sets in when authority is divorced from humility, when governance is separated from grace. We must pray for our leaders, that their hearts may be turned toward justice, and that righteousness may increase, so that the people may once again rejoice.
And what of the vulnerable? What of those who have been exploited, abused, and forgotten? We are witnessing a powerful, painful reckoning as voices long silenced are rising—voices of the oppressed, pleading for justice, crying out for the world to correct their oppression. They stand on the steps of power, not as victims any longer, but as witnesses to truth. Their courage is a modern echo of the ancient call: “Learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow’s cause.” We cannot look away. We must not remain silent.
Imagine, dear brothers and sisters, a world transformed by the love of Christ working through us. Envision a global society where every life is cherished, where leaders govern with wisdom and selflessness, and where the vulnerable are shielded by a community of compassion. This is not a naive dream—it is the kingdom of God breaking through, here and now, if we have the courage to build it with our hands and hearts.
Yet even as we strive for this brighter world, we must acknowledge the shadows within our own Church. In our time, the credibility of our mission is wounded by the failings of some among us—the failure to protect the innocent, the failure to live the Gospel we proclaim with transparency and humility. This is a cross we must bear together, and it is a mission we must undertake with urgency. I call upon every one of you, the faithful, to aid in healing these wounds—through prayer, through penance, through demanding accountability, and through reflecting Christ’s love so radiantly that the world may see His Church not as an institution of men, but as the living Body of Christ.
For if we do not act—if we remain complacent, if we choose comfort over conviction—then a darker future awaits. A world where suffering is met with indifference is a world that has lost its soul. A world where power is abused without consequence is a world marching toward tyranny. A world where justice is denied to the oppressed is a world building its own pyre of divine judgment. Do not believe that God will forever withhold His hand from a humanity that turns its back on His commandments. The apocalypse is not only an event—it is a condition of the heart that has grown cold, a society that has chosen death over life, darkness over light.
But that is not our destiny. We are people of the Resurrection. We are bearers of hope. Let us go forth from this place determined to be agents of that hope—to feed the hungry, comfort the afflicted, challenge the powerful, and uplift the marginalized. Let us rebuild what is broken, within and without, and work tirelessly so that all may know the peace of Christ.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of tragedy and suffering, such as the devastating funicular crash in Portugal, we can actively support emergency relief organizations, whether through donations or volunteering. Make it a habit to check on neighbors, especially the elderly or those living alone, and offer practical help—a meal, transportation, or simply your presence. Small acts of kindness remind those in pain that they are not forgotten.
When confronted with ethical concerns in leadership, as seen in discussions among world leaders, we must hold ourselves and others accountable in our own spheres of influence. Practice integrity in your workplace, speak up against injustice in your community, and support transparent, ethical organizations and leaders. Engage in informed, respectful civic participation—vote, advocate for just policies, and demand accountability from those in power.
To protect the vulnerable and seek justice, as underscored by the courage of abuse survivors, we can support shelters, legal aid services, and advocacy groups that assist victims. Listen to and believe those who share their experiences of harm. Educate yourself and others on recognizing signs of exploitation, and create environments where people feel safe to speak out. Foster a culture of respect and dignity in your own relationships and communities.
Each of these actions, rooted in compassion and responsibility, contributes to a world that reflects our deepest values. Start where you are, use what you have, and do what you can.
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.