Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters in Christ.
We gather today in a world that often feels fractured—a world where headlines scream of violence, division, and the desecration of all that is holy. Yet we are called not to despair, but to remember the power of our faith to heal, to restore, and to redeem. We are reminded today of the profound necessity of forgiveness, as exemplified in the story of a grieving widow who, in the midst of unimaginable pain, chose mercy over vengeance. "For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins." How radical this teaching remains! In a culture that often prizes retaliation and harbors grudges like treasures, we are called to lay down the weight of our anger, to unclench our fists and open our hands—and our hearts—to the grace of reconciliation. Imagine a world transformed by such mercy—a world where cycles of violence are broken not by force, but by the courageous, humble act of forgiveness. This is not a passive surrender, but an active participation in the divine work of healing.
Yet forgiveness does not mean blindness to injustice. We are also called, with urgency and resolve, to be defenders of the vulnerable, the forgotten, the persecuted. The words of Proverbs ring through the ages with clarion urgency: "Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy." How can we read these words and remain silent when the bodies of our transgender brothers and sisters are discarded in the streets? How can we claim to follow Christ if we do not raise our voices against hatred, against the brutal silencing of those society casts aside? Every human person is made in the image and likeness of God, endowed with inviolable dignity. To ignore their suffering, to look away from their pain, is to turn away from Christ Himself. We must build a world where every life is cherished, where the marginalized are not only seen but uplifted, where justice is not a privilege for the powerful but a right for all.
And as we work to restore dignity to persons, we must also restore dignity to places—the sacred spaces where heaven touches earth. We rejoice today at the reopening of the towers of Notre-Dame, a symbol of resilience, of human craftsmanship offered in devotion to the Divine. "Go up into the mountains and bring down timber and build my house, so that I may take pleasure in it and be honored," says the Lord. This is not merely about stone and wood; it is about the human spirit’s capacity to rebuild what has been broken, to offer our labor and love to create spaces where God is glorified. A church is more than a building—it is a beacon of hope, a refuge for the weary, a testament to faith across generations. When we restore these houses of God, we reaffirm that He remains at the center of our communities and our lives.
Yet, dear brothers and sisters, one of the great trials our Church faces in these modern times is the erosion of trust—the shadow of scandal, the pain of division, the distraction of worldliness that sometimes dims the light we are meant to shine. We must work tirelessly, with humility and courage, to restore that trust through transparency, through penitence, and through a renewed commitment to living the Gospel without compromise. I call upon each of you—clergy and laity alike—to be part of this healing. Be living examples of integrity. Let your parishes be places of authenticity and mercy. Support efforts for accountability and renewal. Do not look away from this wound within the Body of Christ—help bind it, help heal it, through your prayers, your actions, and your unwavering fidelity.
For if we do not act—if we choose comfort over courage, silence over solidarity, indifference over love—then we risk a spiritual desolation far more terrifying than any physical ruin. A world without forgiveness is a world of endless vendetta. A world without justice is a world where the powerful crush the weak without consequence. A world that neglects the sacred is a world that has lost its soul. We see the shadows of this future already among us—in the coldness of hearts, in the normalization of outrage, in the loneliness of a generation that has forgotten how to pray. Do not be deceived: without love, without faith, without works, we are building on sand, and the rains will come, and the winds will blow, and great will be the fall.
But take heart! For we do not labor alone. With Jesus beside us, guiding our hands and softening our hearts, a new world is possible—a world where mercy triumphs over judgment, where the marginalized are embraced as brothers and sisters, where our churches stand not as monuments of the past, but as living signs of the Kingdom to come. Let us go forth from this place not as passive observers of a broken world, but as active participants in its redemption. Let us be builders, healers, defenders, and forgivers. Let us restore, renew, and rejoice—for the Lord is with us, and nothing is impossible for those who believe.
Amen.
What can we do?
First, practice forgiveness in your daily interactions. When someone wrongs you—whether through a harsh word, a broken promise, or a thoughtless action—make the conscious choice to release resentment. This doesn’t mean excusing harmful behavior, but it does mean freeing yourself from the weight of bitterness. Start small: forgive the driver who cuts you off, the coworker who speaks unfairly, or the friend who forgets an important date. By doing so, you contribute to a culture of grace rather than retaliation, and you help heal divisions in your own circles.
Second, become an advocate for those who are marginalized or silenced. Pay attention to the vulnerable in your community—the elderly, the impoverished, immigrants, and those facing discrimination. Use your voice where they have none: write to local representatives, support organizations that defend human rights, and speak up when you witness injustice, even in subtle forms. Listen to the stories of people different from you, and let their experiences inform your actions. Small, consistent acts of solidarity can shift the tide toward a more just society.
Third, honor and care for the shared spaces that unite us. This goes beyond physical buildings—though tending to community centers, parks, and places of gathering matters deeply. It also means nurturing environments of respect, beauty, and refuge wherever you are. Volunteer to clean a local park, support the preservation of historic sites, or simply help maintain the dignity of public spaces by treating them with reverence. In doing so, you help create sanctuaries—not just of stone and wood, but of peace and belonging for all.
Go in peace.
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