Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters in Christ.
We gather today in a world that groans under the weight of its own turmoil. From our screens and newspapers, a cacophony of despair reaches our ears and our hearts. We hear of negotiators traveling to distant lands, seeking a fragile peace in Gaza while the earth still trembles with the echoes of strikes and the cries of the innocent. We learn of missiles streaking through the night sky over Ukraine, extinguishing the divine image in which we are all created, leaving families shattered and nations locked in a deadly embrace. And we see, with our own eyes, the very fabric of God’s creation unraveling—glaciers, ancient sentinels of His creative power, vanishing before our eyes, leaving behind a scarred and wounded earth.
It is easy to look upon this world and feel a profound helplessness. It is tempting to turn away, to build walls around our hearts, and to believe that these colossal problems are for others to solve. But my dear friends, this is the great deception of our age—the lie that we are powerless. We are not called to be spectators to the Passion of our world. We are called to be its co-redeemers, working alongside our Lord Jesus Christ.
Let us first consider the call to be peacemakers. The world blesses the powerful and the victorious, but our Lord blesses the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. This is not a passive blessing for those who simply wish for peace. It is a charge, a vocation, for those who dare to build it. It begins not in presidential palaces or negotiation rooms, but in our own homes, in our communities. It begins when we refuse to harbor hatred for those who think differently from us, when we seek reconciliation in our own families, and when we raise our voices, through prayer and action, to demand that the dignity of every human life in conflict zones be upheld. Imagine a world, guided by the hand of Jesus, where His disciples—you and I—so actively sow seeds of understanding and forgiveness that the very soil of humanity becomes infertile for the seeds of war. This is not a fantasy; it is our divine mandate.
This leads us to the very foundation of that peace: the sanctity of every human life. The Book of Genesis reveals to us the profound, non-negotiable truth that every person, without exception, is created in the image and likeness of God. From the child in a Gaza hospital to the soldier on a front line in Ukraine, from the refugee fleeing violence to the politician we disagree with—each bears this indelible mark. When a missile tears apart a life, it is an assault on the icon of God Himself. When we remain indifferent to this destruction, we become complicit in the desecration. But envision, through the grace of Christ, a global society that has internalized this truth. A world where our policies, our economies, and our very hearts are shaped by the conviction that to harm another is to blaspheme the Creator. This is the world we are called to build, a civilization of life and love.
And how can we build this civilization if we neglect the home God has given us? The Lord God placed humanity in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. We have worked it, indeed, with brilliant ingenuity. But we have forgotten, at our great peril, to take care of it. The melting ice, the rising seas, the choking air—these are not merely political issues. They are cries of agony from a creation enslaved to futility because of human sin. They are the consequences of our collective failure in stewardship. Yet, imagine a world where the People of God lead the way in healing these wounds. Where our parishes become beacons of sustainability, where our families embrace simplicity, and where we champion a global economy that serves people and planet, not greed. This is our sacred duty to our children and to our Creator.
Yet, within our own beloved Church, we face a challenge that hinders our witness. We struggle with a crisis of credibility, where the light of our message is too often dimmed by the shadows of scandal and institutional self-preservation. We must, with humility and courage, acknowledge this wound. I call upon every one of you, the faithful, to aid in its healing. Do not abandon the Barque of Peter in the storm, but pick up a bucket and help bail out the water. Demand transparency and holiness from your shepherds, but first, cultivate that same radical integrity and holiness in your own lives. The renewal of the Church begins not with a decree from Rome, but with a conversion of heart in every home and every heart that calls itself Catholic.
But hear now a sobering truth, a warning spoken not with hatred, but with the desperate love of a father for his children. If we choose complacency—if we hear the cry of the oppressed and change the channel, if we see the degradation of the earth and shrug our shoulders, if we witness the desecration of human life and remain silent—then we are not merely failing in our duty. We are actively choosing a different future. We are choosing a world where conflict becomes perpetual, where the image of God in humanity is systematically erased, and where the garden entrusted to us becomes a barren wasteland incapable of sustaining life. This is not the fire and brimstone of a bygone age; it is the cold, logical conclusion of our own indifference. It is a self-inflicted apocalypse of the soul, played out on a global scale.
Therefore, my brothers and sisters, let us not be a generation remembered for its apathy. Let us be the generation that, with Jesus’s help, dared to believe that the impossible was possible. Let us be the peacemakers in a war-torn world, the defenders of dignity in a culture of death, and the caretakers of a creation crying out for healing. Let the memory of Saint Bruno, who sought God in the silence of the desert, inspire us to find God not in escape, but in the heart of the struggle, working through us, His hands and feet on earth.
The world waits in hopeful expectation for the children of God to be revealed. Let us reveal ourselves, not with grand pronouncements, but with acts of courageous love. Let us go forth from this place and build the Kingdom.
Amen.
What can we do?
When we hear news of conflicts in places like Gaza and Ukraine, our first response might be feeling overwhelmed by the scale of the suffering. But practical action begins with informed compassion. Start by consciously choosing news sources that provide depth and context from the region itself, not just sensational headlines. This builds understanding. Then, support humanitarian organizations providing medical aid, food, and shelter on the ground. Your financial contribution, however modest, becomes a direct lifeline. In your own community, challenge stereotypes and prejudice when you encounter them in conversation. Promote dialogue, not division. Peace is built not only in negotiation rooms but in millions of daily acts of respect.
The horrific loss of life in conflicts and attacks is a stark reminder of our shared humanity. We can honor the sanctity of every person by actively rejecting the language of hatred and dehumanization that often precedes violence. In your daily interactions—at work, online, in your neighborhood—make a point to listen to those with different viewpoints without immediately dismissing them. Defend the dignity of anyone being belittled or bullied. Support organizations that provide trauma counseling and psychological support to survivors of war. Remember that upholding human dignity means seeing the person, not the pawn, in every headline.
The dramatic images of vanishing glaciers are a call to immediate and personal responsibility. Environmental care is not an abstract concept; it is a daily practice. Begin an audit of your own consumption. Can you reduce single-use plastics this week? Can you plan one more meat-free meal? Make a conscious effort to support companies with verifiable sustainable practices and boycott those with poor environmental records. Reduce your energy consumption: unplug devices, use public transport when possible, and consider the environmental cost of your purchases. Advocate locally for green spaces, recycling programs, and community gardens. The earth's health is our collective responsibility, and our collective habits will determine its future.
Each of these actions, woven into the fabric of our ordinary days, creates a ripple effect. We build a better world not with a single grand gesture, but with the persistent, faithful accumulation of small, just, and loving choices.
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.