Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters, on this Saturday, a day of quiet anticipation for the glory of the Lord’s resurrection.
We gather today in a world that groans under the weight of defiance, persecution, and violence—a world that cries out for the healing touch of Christ. We have heard of defiance within our own family, of sisters who, in their longing for sacred solitude, turned away from the shepherds appointed to guide them. Let us remember the words from the Letter to the Hebrews: "Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls." Authority is not a chain, but a compass; it is not oppression, but order born of love. When we fracture this unity, we do not break free—we drift, we become lost. Yet even in this act of defiance, we see a profound hunger for holiness, a thirst for God that the world cannot satisfy. Let that hunger be directed, not in isolation, but in communion, for a lone ember dies, but many together create a blaze that can light the world.
We hear, too, the echo of ancient cries in our modern age—the cry of the persecuted, of those who, like Steve Biko, gave their very lives in the pursuit of righteousness. They remind us that the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these, to those who are reviled, slandered, and oppressed for the sake of what is good and true. In every corner of the earth, injustice still wears the mask of power, and prejudice still cloaks itself in law. But we are people of the Beatitudes! We are called not merely to pity the persecuted, but to stand with them, to be a voice for the voiceless, until justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.
And what of the violence that tears at the very fabric of our human family? In the east of Ukraine, and in so many other wounded places, families are torn apart by the thunder of tanks and the whisper of fear. They face the agonizing choice between homeland and safety, between memory and survival. In their terror, they embody the plea of the Psalmist: "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." And God is present—in the courage of those who stay to help, in the generosity of nations opening their borders, in the prayers we offer this very day. But God also acts through human hands. He asks us to be His refuge. He asks us to be His strength.
Imagine, dear brothers and sisters, a world transformed by the love of Christ working through good and faithful people. Imagine leaders who shepherd with humility, communities that embrace authority not as control but as service. Imagine a world where persecution is met with such an outpouring of global solidarity that the persecutors stand ashamed. Imagine conflicts resolved not by the sword, but by the stubborn, relentless pursuit of peace by ordinary people of extraordinary faith. This is not a naive dream. This is our Christian vocation. This is the world Christ died to save, and it is the world we are commanded to build.
Yet we in the Church must also look inward. One of the great trials we face in this modern time is the erosion of trust—trust in our institutions, trust in our leaders, trust in one another. Scandals and failures have cast long shadows, and many of the faithful feel orphaned, uncertain where to turn. I call upon you now—do not abandon the Barque of Peter in the storm! We need you. We need your faith, your critical love, your courage to demand better, and your humility to help rebuild. The Church is not a museum of saints; it is a hospital for sinners, and all of us are patients and caregivers alike. Help us restore trust through transparency, through accountability, and through a return to radical, gospel-centered humility.
But hear now a solemn warning, drawn not from my own spirit but from the conscience of humanity itself. If we choose complacency—if we see defiance and say nothing, see persecution and look away, see war and change the channel—then we are not merely ignoring problems; we are fueling a coming darkness. A world without active love is a world that actively creates hate. A global society that refuses to bend its knee to God will inevitably break itself upon the altars of power, greed, and division. We see the seeds of this apocalypse already among us: in the loneliness of the forgotten, in the rage of the oppressed, in the cold calculations of the powerful. If we do not become the helpers, the peacemakers, the healers, then we will inherit a world of our own making—a world without refuge, without strength, without hope.
But that is not the world we will choose. For we are Easter people. The tomb is empty, and our hearts must be full. Let us go forth from this place not as passive observers of a fractured world, but as active instruments of its repair. Let us build a culture of obedience to rightful authority, a crusade of solidarity with the persecuted, and a fortress of peace against the onslaught of war. Let us rebuild the trust within our Church with our own hands and hearts.
The Lord is our refuge. Let us be His hands.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of defiance against authority, let us remember that true leadership serves the good of all. When we see conflict between those in power and those they lead, we can practice discernment. Listen with humility, but also with courage. Ask questions that promote dialogue rather than division. In your own communities—whether at work, in your family, or in your parish—strive to be a bridge builder. Support leaders who act with integrity, and gently challenge those who do not, always seeking reconciliation over rebellion.
When confronted with persecution and injustice, do not look away. Educate yourself on the struggles of marginalized people, both in history and in our time. Use your voice where it matters: speak up against unfairness, write to representatives, support organizations that fight for human dignity, and amplify stories of courage like that of Steve Biko. Justice is built by countless small acts of moral courage. Let your life be one of them.
In times of violence and conflict, be a refuge for those in need. Offer practical help to those displaced by war or disaster—donate, host, volunteer, or simply bear witness to their suffering with compassion. Reject hatred in all its forms. In your daily interactions, choose peace over aggression, understanding over judgment, and empathy over indifference. Small gestures of kindness ripple outward.
Live intentionally. Let your actions be guided by love, your choices by justice, and your voice by truth. The world is changed by ordinary people who refuse to be indifferent.
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.