Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters in Christ.
We gather today in a world of stark and painful contrasts. A world where the profound and beautiful can exist alongside the tragic and the unjust. We have witnessed a king and a pope, leaders of long-divided traditions, bow their heads together in prayer—a powerful testament to the yearning for the unity for which Christ Himself prayed: "That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us." This is not a mere historical footnote; it is a beacon, a glimpse of the Kingdom, where ancient wounds are healed and the human family is reconciled in God.
Yet, in the very same breath with which we praise this moment of unity, we must choke on the smoke of a world aflame with division and indifference. While leaders prayed for oneness, we learned of forty of our brothers and sisters, infants among them, children of God with names and dreams, who perished in the cold, unforgiving sea. They were hungry, they were thirsty, they were strangers, and the world did not welcome them in. Their bodies, swallowed by the waves off Tunisia, are a searing indictment of our global conscience. They cry out to heaven, and they ask us, the faithful: Where was your love? Where was your cry for justice? Where was your outstretched hand?
This is the chasm of our modern age. We possess the technology to connect every soul on the planet, yet we build higher walls. We have the wealth to feed every mouth, yet we allow our siblings to starve in deserts and drown in oceans. We craft elegant laws to protect human dignity, yet we witness those laws twisted, their spirit broken when "he that justifieth the wicked, and he that condemneth the just" is not merely an ancient proverb but a recurring headline. When the powerful who violate the sacred trust of justice are absolved with a stroke of a pen, it mocks the suffering of the poor, it deepens the cynicism of the young, and it tells the world that there are two sets of rules—one for the connected and one for the forgotten.
This is the path to ruin. I tell you with a heavy heart, if we continue on this road—if we allow the flickering light of Christian unity to be extinguished by the cold winds of nationalism, if we permit the sanctity of every life to be negotiable based on origin or status, if we accept a world where moral integrity is a commodity to be bought and sold—then we are not merely failing in our duty. We are actively constructing our own desolation. A world without solidarity is a world without a soul, a barren landscape where the human person is reduced to a problem, a statistic, or a tool. This is the apocalypse not of divine wrath, but of human choice—a slow, suffocating decay of compassion that leads to a hell of our own making.
But this is not our destiny! We are an Easter people, and Alleluia is our song! The problems of this age, as immense as they seem, are not greater than the power of Christ working through His faithful. Imagine, my dear brothers and sisters, imagine the world Christ dreams of through us. Imagine a world where the prayer for unity compels us to tear down not just theological walls, but the walls of poverty and hatred. A world where no mother risks her child’s life on a rickety boat because her homeland offers no hope. A world where justice is blind, not bought, and where leaders are measured by their mercy to the least among us, not their favors to the powerful.
To build this world, the Church itself must be a flawless instrument of the Lord. And so, I call upon you today to help heal one of our own great wounds: the scandal of a faith that is sometimes proclaimed more with our lips than lived with our lives. We face a crisis of credibility, where our message is muted by the gap between what we preach and how we are perceived to act. We must be a Church that is not only inside the walls of this beautiful basilica but is also, and unequivocally, on the boats, in the slums, at the borders, and in the halls of power—a Church that is poor and for the poor, a voice for the voiceless, a relentless force for Gospel justice.
Let the memory of those forty souls lost at sea be the fire that forges a new commitment within you. Let the hope of that prayer between a king and a pope be the light that guides your path. Do not wait for another to act. You are the good men and women through whom Christ wishes to solve these problems. You must be the ones to welcome the stranger, to feed the hungry, to thirst for righteousness, and to demand integrity from your leaders and from yourselves.
The choice is before us, clear and urgent: to build the civilization of love, or to accept the desolation of indifference. Let us choose love. Let us choose action. Let us choose Christ.
Amen.
What can we do?
In our divided world, we can actively build bridges across religious and cultural divides. Seek out conversations with people of different faith traditions. Attend interfaith gatherings or community events where diverse perspectives are welcomed. When you encounter someone with beliefs different from yours, listen first with the goal of understanding, not debating. Small, personal gestures of respect can ripple outward, fostering a spirit of unity that transcends our differences.
Confronted with stories of human suffering, we must translate our compassion into concrete action. Begin locally by supporting organizations that provide food, shelter, and essential services to the vulnerable in your own community. Advocate for humane immigration policies by contacting your elected representatives. In your daily interactions, treat every person you meet—from the grocery clerk to the stranger on the street—with inherent respect, recognizing their fundamental dignity. A kind word or a moment of genuine attention can affirm someone's worth.
In the face of injustice and moral compromise, our responsibility is to champion integrity in our own spheres of influence. Practice rigorous honesty in your work, your studies, and your family life. Refuse to participate in, or remain silent about, unethical practices, even minor ones. Support businesses and leaders who demonstrate transparency and accountability. When you witness unfairness, speak up with courage and clarity, not for the sake of conflict, but for the sake of truth. Your personal commitment to justice, however small it may seem, becomes a powerful counterweight to corruption.
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.