Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters in Christ.
We gather today under the gaze of a world that groans with sorrow, a world that cries out for healing, for compassion, and for the transformative power of God’s love. We are witnesses to a creation fractured by the very sins Christ came to redeem, and we are called—each and every one of us—to be not merely witnesses, but instruments of that redemption.
Look with me to the Holy Land, a land sanctified by the footsteps of our Savior, now scarred by the footsteps of armies. We hear the cries of families in Gaza City, ordered to flee their homes with nowhere to go, and we hear the thunder of weapons that promise only more sorrow. This is not a distant political problem; it is a profound human tragedy, a failure of our shared humanity. Christ himself declared, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God." To be a child of God is not a passive inheritance; it is an active vocation. We are called to make peace. To pray for it fervently, yes, but also to advocate for it, to support those who broker ceasefires, to welcome the refugee, and to see in every terrified face the image of the Holy Family itself, fleeing into Egypt. Imagine, through the grace of Christ and the courage of good men and women, a Holy Land where the olive branch is mightier than the sword, where children of Abraham—Jews, Muslims, and Christians—build a future together not on the rubble of their homes, but on the unshakable foundation of mutual respect and sacred dignity. This is the world Jesus helps us build.
Now, let our hearts turn to the faithful in places like the Democratic Republic of Congo, who gather even in their grief to honor their dead, only to have that sacred mourning shattered by the unspeakable violence of hatred. They are living the beatitude: "Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Theirs is a faith tested in fire, a faith that should shame our own complacency. They risk everything to profess what we so often take for granted in our safety. We must see their struggle as our own. We are one body in Christ, and when one part suffers, we all suffer. Through the workings of good people—through our prayers, our awareness, our financial support for persecuted churches, and our relentless demand that our world leaders defend religious freedom—we can help usher in a dawn where no one is killed for their faith, where the kingdom of heaven is reflected in the peace of their earthly worship.
And we must speak of the most vulnerable among us: the innocent, the children. The news from New Zealand of a mother who ended the lives of her own children is a horror that echoes the deepest brokenness of our age. It is a stark violation of the divine command: "You shall not murder." This is not merely a crime; it is a symptom of a society that has lost its way, that has forgotten the sacred, inviolable dignity of every human life from conception to natural death. We must build a culture that surrounds despair with hope, that offers support instead of judgment, and that proclaims with every action that every life is a gift from God, worthy of protection and love. Envision a world where no soul feels so alone that death seems a solution, where communities of faith are such powerful beacons of compassion that the darkness of despair cannot prevail.
Yet, as we look outward to heal the world, we must also have the courage to look inward at the ailments within our own Mother, the Church. One of the great plagues of our time is the scandal of division—among the faithful, among our leaders, and with the wider world. We fracture into factions, we cling to ideology over charity, and in doing so, we obscure the beautiful, unifying face of Christ for a world that desperately needs to see it. I call upon you, the faithful, to be healers of this breach. Reject the gossip that divides parishes. Seek dialogue with those you disagree with. Model the unity that Christ prayed for on the night he was betrayed. Let our Church be known not for its internal conflicts, but for its radical, joyful, and united witness to the Gospel.
But hear me, my children, and hear well the warning that love compels me to give. If we choose comfort over courage, if we choose silence over solidarity, if we choose to be mere spectators to this world’s passion, then we choose a different future. A future where the deserts of conflict expand until no home is safe. A future where the persecution of the faithful continues in darkness, met by our apathy. A future where the culture of death prevails, cheapening life until it is without meaning. This is not God’s punishment; it is the natural consequence of our own inaction. We will have built that desolate world with our own indifferent hands.
But this is not our calling! We are people of the Resurrection! We are people of hope! The same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead is at work in you, empowering you to feed the hungry, to comfort the afflicted, to champion the unborn, to pray for peace, and to be a unifying force of love. Do not underestimate your role in the great story of salvation. Go forth from this place and be that change. Build, with Jesus’s help and through the workings of good men and women, a world worthy of the children of God.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of violence and conflict, we can choose to be informed rather than indifferent. Seek out balanced news sources that humanize all sides of a conflict, not just one narrative. Support humanitarian organizations providing medical aid, food, and shelter to civilians caught in war zones. In your own community, foster dialogue that bridges divides—host conversations that emphasize our shared humanity over political or religious differences.
When we learn of persecution and suffering, we must extend practical compassion. Donate to verified international relief funds that assist refugees and victims of targeted violence. Write to your elected representatives, urging them to prioritize humanitarian aid and diplomatic solutions in foreign policy. Locally, welcome immigrants and refugees into your neighborhoods—offer friendship, help with integration, and stand against xenophobia in word and action.
To honor the sanctity of life, practice active care for those around you. Check in on friends, family, and neighbors who may be struggling with isolation, grief, or mental health challenges. Advocate for and support accessible mental health resources in your community. Teach children—through your own actions—the value of empathy, patience, and non-violent conflict resolution. Small, consistent acts of kindness reinforce that every life has dignity.
Begin each day with the intention to leave your corner of the world better than you found it. Listen more. Judge less. Give generously. Speak up for those who have been silenced.
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.