Blessings of peace, grace, and divine courage to all of you, my brothers and sisters, gathered here and joining us from across the world on this blessed Saturday.
We gather as a single family under God, yet we cannot ignore the cries of our family members that echo through a wounded world. We live in an age of profound contradiction, where technological marvels connect us instantly, yet the human heart seems to grow more distant. We see the splendour of God’s creation in the skies and the seas, yet we witness the devastation of that creation in the streets of Black River, Jamaica, where our brothers and sisters, abandoned in the wake of a hurricane, scavenge for food and water, their hope fading with each passing day without aid. They are not statistics; they are Christ himself, hungry, thirsty, and a stranger, asking us through their desperate eyes, "Where is my Church? Where are my people?"
This cry is joined by another, a cry silenced by violence and injustice. From the soil of Tanzania, we hear the muffled screams of hundreds, feared dead for daring to seek a voice, for yearning for justice. They are the destitute and the needy, whose rights are trampled by the boots of oppression. The Scripture calls us to be their voice, to speak up for those who can no longer speak for themselves. When we choose silence in the face of such tyranny, we are not merely passive; we become complicit in the judgment that is rendered unfairly against the poor.
And in the shadows of this physical and moral violence, we see a more insidious decay. We witness the desecration of sacred memory, as red hands are painted on a Holocaust Memorial, a brazen act intended to destabilize, to mock the dead, and to poison the present. This is not mere vandalism; it is a symptom of a world losing its reverence for the sacred, for the dignity of the human person created in God’s image. When we make for ourselves idols of power, of nationalism, of ideology, we inevitably desecrate the true image of God found in our neighbour and in the hallowed grounds of our collective conscience.
My dear brothers and sisters, do we see the path we are on? This is not merely a news cycle; it is a spiritual crisis. If we continue to look away from the hungry, if we continue to mute the cries of the oppressed, if we continue to allow the sacred to be profaned without a word of protest, we are writing our own apocalypse. A world that abandons its poor, that silences its prophets, and that mocks its own soul, is a world building its own tomb. The chaos will not be contained to distant shores. The desperation born in Jamaica will fuel migrations of despair. The injustice normalized in Tanzania will embolden tyrants everywhere. The moral decay displayed in France will erode the very foundations of our own communities, until we can no longer tell right from wrong, the holy from the profane. This is the fire we risk, a fire not of God’s wrath, but of our own cold indifference.
Yet, I stand before you not in despair, but in defiant hope! For we are an Easter people, and ‘Alleluia’ is our song! We are not called to merely lament the darkness; we are called to ignite the light. We are the good men and women through whom Christ wishes to solve these great problems. Imagine, with the eyes of faith, a world transformed! Imagine the streets of Black River filled not with people scavenging, but with teams of the faithful, our Catholic charities and parish volunteers, delivering food, medicine, and the solidarity that rebuilds not just homes, but hope. Imagine the halls of power, where the voices of the Church, amplified by our prayers and advocacy, ring out in unyielding defence of the oppressed in Tanzania and everywhere, turning the tide of injustice. Imagine a culture where the desecration of memory is met not with a shrug, but with a global chorus of condemnation and a renewed commitment to teach our children the sacredness of every life and every truth.
To build this world, our Church must first look inward. One of our great challenges in this modern time is the scandal of division within our own ranks—the bitter polemics, the ideological camps that treat the Body of Christ as a battlefield. How can we heal a fractured world if we are a fractured Church? I call upon every one of you, the faithful, to aid in solving this. Be agents of communion, not division. In your families, your parishes, and your online interactions, seek first to understand, to listen with charity, and to build bridges. Let our unity in Christ, not our uniformity of opinion, be our witness to the world.
Therefore, my brothers and sisters, let us leave this place not as an audience, but as an army of mercy. Let this Saturday be a day of resolve. Let the memory of All Saints, that great cloud of witnesses who fought the good fight in their own times, inspire us. They were not superhuman; they were faithful. They saw suffering and alleviated it. They saw injustice and confronted it. They saw desecration and restored the sacred. So must we.
Do not wait for another to act. You are the one Christ calls. You are the hands that will feed the hungry. You are the voice that will speak for the voiceless. You are the faithful who will stand against the tide of moral decay. Let us go forth, with the love of Christ burning in our hearts, to build a kingdom of justice, peace, and love. The future is not written. It awaits our choice, our action, our faith.
Amen.
What can we do?
When we witness humanitarian suffering like the hurricane survivors in Jamaica scavenging for food while aid fails to reach them, our response must be both immediate and sustained. Begin by researching reputable international relief organizations with proven track records of delivering aid efficiently, then set up modest monthly donations that fit your budget. More personally, organize local food or supply drives through your workplace, school, or community center specifically designated for disaster relief. Educate yourself about regions experiencing chronic crises so your support continues beyond the initial headlines. Consider volunteering with organizations that assist refugees resettling in your own community—helping with language practice, job applications, or simply offering friendship can restore dignity to those who have lost everything.
Confronting systemic violence and injustice requires our courageous voice and conscious choices. When governments suppress dissent as seen in Tanzania, we must become informed advocates. Subscribe to independent news sources covering affected regions to understand the full context beyond superficial reports. Write respectful but firm letters to your political representatives urging diplomatic pressure and humanitarian oversight. Support ethical businesses and boycott companies that profit from oppression. In your daily interactions, challenge discriminatory language and assumptions whenever you encounter them—whether in family conversations or workplace discussions. Defend those being marginalized in your own circles with the same conviction you'd want shown to you.
Addressing moral decay and cultural desecration begins with actively preserving dignity in our communities. When memorials are vandalized as in France, we counter by creating and protecting spaces of respect. Visit local museums, historical sites, and cultural centers with your family—your presence and financial support help maintain these guardians of collective memory. Teach children in your life about different cultural traditions with respect. In your digital life, report hateful content and disinformation rather than ignoring it. Support artists and creators who build bridges between communities through their work. Most importantly, model integrity in your own conduct—reject gossip, honor your word, and treat public spaces as if they were your own home.
Every small act of conscience creates ripples that eventually transform societies. We change the world not through grand gestures alone, but through the consistent practice of empathy in our daily choices. The food shared, the voice raised, the dignity preserved—these become the building blocks of a more compassionate world.
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.