Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters, on this Sunday, the 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time.
We gather today in the house of the Lord, a refuge for the soul in a world that often feels like it is spinning towards chaos. From our pews, we can hear the distant echoes of conflict, the cries of the wounded, and the hollow laughter of a culture adrift. Yet, we are not called to be passive listeners to this symphony of despair. We are called to be instruments of the Lord’s peace, the living hands of Christ on Earth, tasked with the sacred duty of mending what is broken.
Let us first cast our gaze, with heavy hearts, toward the Holy Land. For generations, the soil there has drunk the blood of brothers, and the air has been thick with the smoke of strife. We hear of ceasefires and hopes for peace, yet the swords remain raised and the spears are not yet beaten into the tools of life that the prophet Isaiah envisioned. We pray for peace, yes, but prayer without action is a whisper lost in the storm. Imagine, my dear faithful, a world not of our making, but of God’s, brought forth through our cooperation with His grace. Imagine that land, sacred to three great faiths, where the plowshare has truly replaced the sword. A land where children learn the names of flowers, not the models of munitions; where the energy spent on building walls is poured instead into building schools and hospitals. This is not a naive dream. This is the divine potential entrusted to us. Through the workings of good men and women, inspired by the Prince of Peace, this can be the inheritance we leave. But if we turn away, if we grow complacent and allow the embers of hatred to be fanned anew, then we risk a desolation not just of land, but of the human spirit, a cycle of vengeance that will consume all in its path until nothing sacred remains.
This assault on human dignity is not confined to battlefields. We see it in the strike on a railway station, where the image of God, imprinted on every human soul, is violated by the shrapnel of war. When a life is treated as collateral, when the innocent traveler and the dedicated worker are made targets, we witness a profound denial of the truth proclaimed in Genesis: that every person, without exception, is created in the divine image. The dignity of the human person is the bedrock of a just society. To erode it there is to invite its erosion everywhere. Our calling is to be unyielding defenders of this truth. We must build a world where every life is cherished from its conception to its natural end, where the hungry are fed, the homeless are sheltered, and the stranger is welcomed. With Jesus’s help, we can create a global society that reflects this sacred dignity, a civilization of love. But if we remain silent, if we accept the creeping normalization of such violence, we pave the way for a world where humanity is stripped of its soul, where people become numbers and statistics, and the light of compassion is extinguished forever.
And what of the soil in which these conflicts grow? We must have the courage to look at the moral decay within our own societies. We live in an age where impurity, covetousness, and crude jesting are not merely tolerated but often celebrated. When filthiness is paraded as entertainment and the sacred gift of our humanity is reduced to a punchline, we sever ourselves from the source of all thanksgiving. This is not about puritanical fear, but about the profound truth that our words and our culture shape our souls. They can either elevate us toward the divine or debase us into the vulgar. A society that mocks the sacred, that treats the intimate and the profound as subjects for crude joking, is a society building its house on sand. It loses its moral compass, its sense of purpose, and its ability to distinguish good from evil. It becomes a society ripe for the exploitation and despair we see elsewhere.
In this great mission of renewal, the Church itself is not without its challenges. One of the most pressing trials we face in modern times is a crisis of witness—a gap, at times, between the beauty of our faith and the actions of our lives. We see a world hungry for meaning, for authentic community, for selfless love, and yet, too often, we within the Church have failed to present this radiant face of Christ. We have been timid in our charity, fragmented in our unity, and sometimes more concerned with internal disputes than with the bleeding wounds of the world. This, my brothers and sisters, is where I call upon you, the faithful. I implore you to aid in solving this. Do not wait for another. Do not think the task is for priests and bishops alone. Each of you, by the integrity of your family life, by the honesty in your work, by the courageous charity you show to your neighbor—especially the one you find difficult to love—you become a living sermon. You close the gap. You become the proof of a loving God in a world that doubts His existence.
Let us leave this place today not as mere hearers of the Word, but as its doers. Let us be the generation that dared to beat swords into plowshares. Let us be the people who defended the inviolable dignity of every person. Let us be the culture that chose thanksgiving over filthiness. The path is steep, and the night is dark, but we do not walk alone. The Lord walks with us. He will give us the strength. For if we do not take up this cross, if we choose the comfort of silence and inaction, then we must face the apocalyptic warning of a world of our own making: a world perpetually at war, a humanity devoid of dignity, a culture lost in a hollow and cynical darkness. This is not God’s punishment, but the tragic and inevitable harvest of the seeds we refused to pluck out.
But that is not our destiny. We are people of the Resurrection. We are people of hope. Let us go forth from this Sunday and build, with the help of Jesus, the kingdom we were promised.
Amen.
What can we do?
For peace in conflict zones like the Holy Land, your most practical contribution is to become an informed and compassionate voice. Actively seek out news from reputable, neutral sources that present multiple perspectives on the conflict. In your daily conversations, refuse to engage in sweeping generalizations or dehumanizing language about any group of people. Support, with your time or donations, humanitarian organizations that are providing direct aid to civilians affected by the violence, regardless of their nationality or faith. Advocate peacefully to your political representatives, urging them to prioritize diplomacy and the protection of human life above all else.
To uphold the sanctity of life and human dignity in the face of attacks on civilians, as seen in Ukraine, direct action is key. Support organizations delivering medical aid, shelter, and food to those in war-torn regions. In your own community, practice radical respect in every interaction. Treat the grocery store cashier, the customer service representative on the phone, and the person driving slowly in front of you with the same inherent respect you would demand for yourself. Actively challenge jokes or comments that mock or belittle others based on their background, appearance, or circumstances. Small, consistent acts of recognizing the dignity in every person create a ripple effect that counters the culture of disregard.
Regarding the perceived moral decay in entertainment and society, your power lies in your choices and your conversations. Be intentional about the media you consume and support. If certain comedy or entertainment relies on cruelty, vulgarity, or demeaning others, simply choose not to watch it. Your viewership and your money are your votes. Foster more meaningful and kind communication in your own life. Make a conscious effort to speak words that are constructive, encouraging, and truthful. When you are with friends or family, steer conversations away from gossip and crude humor and towards topics that build each other up. The most powerful protest against a culture of coarseness is to cultivate a personal culture of kindness and integrity.
Go in peace.
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