Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters, on this holy Sunday, the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time. Today, as we gather in the Lord’s house, our hearts and minds are drawn to the world beyond these walls—a world crying out for the healing touch of Christ, a world in desperate need of the love and courage that we, as His followers, are called to embody.
Let us reflect first on the profound and sacred commandment: "You shall not kill." These words from the book of Exodus are not a mere prohibition; they are a divine affirmation of the inviolable dignity of every human life, created and loved by God. Yet, we look upon the Holy Land, where the scourge of war brings death to civilians, to health workers, to those simply seeking bread for their families. We see the image of God desecrated in the dust of Gaza. This is not a distant political issue; it is a profound spiritual crisis. It is a failure to see our brother, our sister, in the face of the other. Imagine, instead, a world where this commandment is lived not as a restriction, but as a foundation for peace. A world where good men and women, inspired by the Prince of Peace, build bridges of dialogue, where weapons are laid down not in defeat but in the triumph of mutual recognition. This is the world Jesus calls us to build. But if we remain silent, if we allow hatred to be met with hatred, we risk a deeper darkness—a world where the sacred becomes commonplace, where life is cheap, and where the cycle of violence consumes generations in an apocalypse of our own making.
We must also turn our gaze to the foundational institution of society, the family, created by God as a reflection of His love. As Genesis tells us, "God created mankind in his image; in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them." This divine blueprint for complementarity and life is a gift. Yet, in our modern discourse, we see great tension, as in Slovakia, where laws seek to define these truths, often creating further division and pain for our brothers and sisters who identify as LGBT. Our call is not simply to defend an institution, but to champion the love and stability it is meant to provide. We are called to build a world where every family is supported, where every child is welcomed as a blessing, and where those who feel marginalized are met not with harsh judgment, but with the compassionate embrace of Christ’s Church. A world where the family becomes, as God intended, a school of love and a sanctuary of peace. Should we fail, should the family fragment into mere individualism, we face a future of profound loneliness, where generations are unmoored from love and identity, a cold and rootless apocalypse.
And what of justice? The prophet Isaiah cries out to us across the centuries: "Learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow." This is not a passive hope; it is an active command. We see its opposite in the vile exploitation detailed in Dubai, where women are treated as commodities in a sex trade, their God-given dignity stripped away for profit. This is a sin that cries out to heaven. But imagine a world where this command is our collective mission. A world where good men and women work to dismantle these networks of degradation, to offer hope and restoration to the oppressed, to create economies of justice instead of exploitation. This is the kingdom of God breaking through. If we ignore this call, if we avert our eyes from the suffering of the vulnerable, we consent to a world where human beings are objects to be used and discarded—a hellish apocalypse of indifference that suffocates the soul of humanity.
My dear brothers and sisters, in facing these global challenges, we must also look inward, at a challenge within our own Church: the scandal of a faith that has grown comfortable, a faith that is sometimes practiced within the safety of these walls but fails to radiate transformatively into the streets, the halls of power, and the margins of society. We face a crisis of witness. I call upon each of you, the faithful, to aid in solving this. Do not let your Catholicism be a private devotion. Let it be a public force for good. Let your works of mercy, your pursuit of justice, your defense of life, and your love for the family be so evident that the world cannot help but see the face of Christ in you.
On this Sunday, let us leave this place not merely as attendees of Mass, but as soldiers of mercy, as architects of hope, as agents of the divine transformation that our wounded world so desperately needs. The choice is before us: to collaborate with Christ in building a civilization of love, or to stand by as the shadows of apocalypse lengthen. Let us choose love. Let us choose life. Let us choose to act.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of violence that claims innocent lives, our practical contribution begins with a commitment to informed compassion. We can choose to support humanitarian organizations providing aid to all affected civilians, regardless of nationality or creed. In our daily conversations, we can refuse to dehumanize any group of people, recognizing the inherent worth of every individual. We can advocate for and support diplomatic paths to peace, contacting our political representatives to voice our desire for a cessation of hostilities and the protection of non-combatants.
Regarding the defense of the family, our daily actions can be rooted in a profound respect for every person's journey. We can foster strong families by prioritizing time with our own loved ones, creating homes built on love, patience, and mutual support. In our communities, we can support programs that assist parents and children. When encountering those whose understanding of family or identity differs from our own, we can choose dialogue over dismissal, and charity over contempt, ensuring our interactions always uphold the dignity of the human person.
To uphold justice against exploitation, we must become more conscious consumers and citizens. We can educate ourselves on the signs of human trafficking and support businesses with transparent, ethical labor practices. We can donate to or volunteer with organizations that rescue and rehabilitate victims of modern slavery. In our own spheres of influence, we can speak up against language or jokes that objectify others, fostering a culture where every person is seen as worthy of respect and protection, not as a commodity.
These are not grand, distant gestures, but the quiet, consistent work of building a better world through our daily choices. It starts with how we speak, what we buy, who we help, and the dignity we afford to every person we meet.
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.