Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters, on this day of preparation, this Saturday, as we await the Lord’s Day with hopeful hearts.
We gather as a family of faith in a world that is crying out—a world fractured by division, numbed by hollow entertainment, and scarred by injustice. We see these struggles not as distant headlines, but as the very terrain upon which we are called to live out our discipleship. The Lord has not abandoned His creation to these trials; rather, He has entrusted it to our hands, and He asks us, through the grace of His Son, to be the instruments of a healing that can only come from Him.
Let us first consider the deep and painful divisions that afflict our human family, divisions that, sorrowfully, can even find a place within the household of faith. We hear of conflicts over who may lead, over the roles of men and women in the service of the Gospel. While traditions and interpretations vary, let us not forget the one, unifying call that supersedes all: the call to love and to serve. When we focus more on who is excluded from the table than on the boundless love of the Host who invites us all, we risk building walls where Christ died to tear them down. The Church’s mission is not to be a fortress for the perfect, but a field hospital for the wounded, and in a field hospital, every hand is needed. Every soul, endowed with the Holy Spirit, has a gift to offer for the healing of the world. Let our debates be marked not by the hunger for authority, but by the humility of the foot-washer, Christ Himself.
This internal tension is but one symptom of a wider moral confusion that permeates our age. We need only glance at the entertainments we consume to see a culture that often celebrates what is coarse, degrading, and impure. The words of the Apostle echo as a warning: "But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity... nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking." This is not a puritanical rejection of joy, but a prophetic call to protect the sacred dignity of the human person, created in the image and likeness of God. When humor sells humiliation and entertainment traffics in exploitation, it deadens our collective conscience. It makes us bystanders to the degradation of the soul. We are called to be a counter-cultural people, not of grim condemnation, but of joyful thanksgiving, offering the world a beauty so radiant that the shadows of obscenity are dispelled.
And what is the fruit of a numbed conscience? It is indifference to the cry of the suffering. While we are entertained, our brothers and sisters in places like Gaza endure the unimaginable scourge of war. The strikes and marches in solidarity are a testament to the human spirit’s refusal to accept injustice. They remind us of the timeless command of the prophet Micah: "He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." To walk humbly with our God is to walk alongside the oppressed. It is to recognize that peace is not merely the absence of war, but the active presence of justice, and that our faith must always be a faith that seeks justice for all of God’s children.
My dear brothers and sisters, envision with me the world that is possible. Envision a world where the Church is truly one, not in a sterile uniformity, but in a symphony of diverse gifts united in love and service. Envision a culture where our stories and our arts uplift the human spirit, reflecting the beauty of the Creator. Envision a global society where nations beat their swords into plowshares, where no child goes to bed hungry or in fear. This is not a naive dream. This is the Kingdom of God, and it is within our grasp if we, the faithful, cooperate with the grace of Jesus Christ. It will be built by good men and women—by you—offering a cup of water, speaking a word of kindness, challenging an unjust law, creating something beautiful, and praying without ceasing.
Yet, we must also confront a grave challenge within our own walls, one that hinders our witness to this beautiful vision: the scandal of a faith that can sometimes feel distant, intellectualized, and disconnected from the daily struggles of the poor and the marginalized. We can become so focused on our own internal affairs that we forget the world we are sent to heal. I call upon every one of you, the faithful, to aid in solving this. Let us leave our pews and enter the streets. Let our parishes become centers of tangible mercy, where the hungry are fed, the lonely are visited, and the immigrant is welcomed. Let us ensure that no one can ever say of the Church that it is indifferent to their suffering.
For if we do not act, the warnings are dire. A path of division leads only to a Babel of our own making, where no one understands the language of love. A diet of moral decay leads to a soul so malnourished it can no longer recognize the good. A tolerance of injustice builds a world on a foundation of sand, which will inevitably collapse into the chaos of endless conflict. We see the shadows of this apocalypse already—in the heat of a warming planet, in the coldness of hardened hearts, in the silence that follows when the cry of the poor is ignored. This is not God’s punishment, but the natural consequence of our own collective failure to love.
But do not be afraid. The same Christ who calmed the stormy sea can calm the turmoil of our age. He has given us the blueprint, and He has given us His Spirit. Let us go forth from this place, on this holy Saturday, not in despair, but in determined hope. Let us be the good men and women through whom Christ solves the problems of the world. Let us build, with our own hands and hearts, a civilization of love.
Amen.
What can we do?
When we encounter disagreements about leadership roles in our communities, we can practice thoughtful engagement in our daily lives. Rather than dismissing those with different perspectives, we can create spaces for respectful dialogue where all voices are heard. In our own workplaces and organizations, we can champion the principle that wisdom and capability are not determined by gender. Support those who demonstrate competence and compassion in leadership positions, regardless of tradition. When making decisions in your own family or community groups, consciously consider diverse viewpoints and create opportunities for meaningful participation from everyone.
Regarding entertainment and media, we each have the power to be intentional consumers. Before watching, reading, or sharing content, pause to consider whether it uplifts human dignity or diminishes it. Choose to support creators who produce content that respects the sacredness of human relationships. When you encounter humor that relies on demeaning others or trivializing what is meaningful, have the courage to either engage in constructive conversation about it or simply choose different entertainment. Our viewing habits shape cultural production—use that influence wisely.
In matters of justice and peace, start within your immediate circle. Practice fairness in your daily interactions—with family, coworkers, and strangers. Listen compassionately to those experiencing injustice without immediately offering solutions. Educate yourself about conflicts from multiple perspectives rather than relying on simplified narratives. In your community, support organizations that provide humanitarian aid without political agenda. When you witness prejudice or misunderstanding, be the person who bridges divides through respectful conversation and practical help to those affected by conflict.
Small, consistent actions in our ordinary lives create ripples that transform our world. Each conscious choice for inclusion, each decision to honor human dignity, each act of bridge-building contributes to a more just and peaceful global community.
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.