Blessings of peace, grace, and the boundless love of Christ to all of you, my brothers and sisters, gathered here and joining us from across the world.
We gather today in a world that groans. It groans under the fury of nature, as we have witnessed in the Philippines, where a mighty typhoon has scoured the land, forcing nearly a million of our brothers and sisters to flee their homes, their lives shattered by winds and water. The earth itself seems to cry out in travail, and in its cry, we hear the voice of the Lord asking us, "When I was left without shelter, did you invite me in?"
We gather in a world that weeps. It weeps in an Indianapolis suburb, where a woman, Maria Florinda Rios Perez, a cleaning woman, a daughter of God, began a day of honest work and met a violent and untimely end on a stranger's porch. The sacredness of a single, innocent life, so carelessly extinguished, echoes the silence of the tomb before the Resurrection, a silence that begs to be broken by our cry for justice and peace.
We gather in a world that bleeds. It bleeds in the fields of Ukraine, where the night sky is torn not by stars but by missiles, where the fruits of human ingenuity are perverted into instruments of destruction, leaving cities cold and dark, and families mourning the six souls, and countless more, lost. The ancient prophecy of beating swords into plowshares feels like a distant dream amidst the grim reality of plowshares being beaten back into swords.
This is the world we inhabit. A world that can feel as if it is teetering on the brink of a chasm of despair. And I say to you, with the full weight of my office and the fire of faith in my heart, that we must not let it fall. For the Lord has placed us here, in this precise moment of history, not as passive observers of a tragic play, but as active participants in the divine drama of redemption.
Look at the face of the typhoon victim, the unjustly slain woman, the refugee of war. In each of them, see the face of Christ. He is the one who is hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, sick, and imprisoned. He is not a metaphor; He is present in the concrete suffering of our human family. When we feed the displaced, we feed Him. When we shelter the homeless, we shelter Him. When we demand peace for the war-torn, we comfort Him. When we champion the dignity of every life, from the womb to the natural end, we honor Him.
Let us envision, with the eyes of faith, a world transformed by our collective "yes" to God's call. A world where the energy and resources spent on forging weapons of war are poured instead into building infrastructures of peace, where the genius of humanity is directed toward healing our common home and feeding every mouth. A world where a knock on a door is met with welcome, not fear. This is not a naive fantasy; this is the Kingdom of God, which we are commanded to build, brick by brick, act of mercy by act of mercy, here and now.
Yet, within our own holy Church, we face a challenge that hinders our witness. It is the challenge of indifference, of a faith that is professed on Sunday but forgotten by Monday. It is the creeping secularism that tells us faith is a private matter, that the suffering of a stranger in a distant land is not our concern, that the pursuit of personal comfort is the highest good. This is a spiritual poison. I call upon every one of you, the faithful, to combat this. Let your faith be public, let your charity be bold, let your voice for peace be clear and unwavering. Do not let the light of Christ within you be hidden under the bushel basket of apathy.
For if we choose apathy, if we close our eyes and our hearts, then the chasm of despair will open wide to receive us. The storms will grow more furious, and we will have failed to build the arks of solidarity to weather them. The violence in our streets will become commonplace, a dull thunder in the background of our lives, until it one day arrives at our own doorstep. The conflicts between nations will spiral, consuming more and more of God's children in their insatiable fire, until the dream of peace is ash on our tongues. This is the apocalyptic warning: not of a God who punishes from on high, but of a humanity that, by its own refusal to love, engineers its own ruin.
But this is not our destiny! We are children of the light! We are Easter people! The same Christ who calmed the stormy sea can calm the turmoil in our world, but He chooses to work through our hands. The same Christ who conquered death can conquer the culture of death, but He asks for our voices. The same Christ who preached peace to a war-torn world now preaches it through our actions.
Let us go forth from this place, then, not as a mournful procession, but as an army of hope. Let us be the peacemakers who are truly called the children of God. Let us be the ones who, through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the intercession of saints who faced their own eras of turmoil, take up the sacred duty of mending this broken world. Let us build, together, a global society not of fear, but of fellowship; not of conflict, but of compassion. The time for waiting is over. The time for acting is now.
Amen.
What can we do?
When natural disasters displace communities, begin by researching one reliable humanitarian organization addressing immediate needs in affected regions. Set up a modest monthly donation—even the cost of a few coffees can provide emergency supplies. Keep emergency kits in your home and car, and learn basic first aid. When severe weather approaches your own area, check on elderly neighbors and those living alone.
In the face of senseless violence, commit to being an agent of peace in your own circles. Practice de-escalation in daily conflicts, whether in traffic or in line at the store. Listen more than you speak, especially to those with different viewpoints. Support local community centers and youth programs that provide positive alternatives to violence. If you witness someone in distress, have the courage to offer help or contact appropriate resources.
Confronting global conflict requires building bridges where we are. Seek out media sources from conflict zones to understand perspectives beyond your own. Support refugee resettlement efforts in your community through volunteering or donations. In conversations about world events, challenge generalizations about entire nations or cultures. Write to your elected representatives advocating for diplomatic solutions and humanitarian aid. Most importantly, model respectful dialogue in your own life, treating every person as an individual worthy of dignity.
These are not grand gestures reserved for special occasions, but daily practices of compassion, awareness, and active peacemaking. Each small action creates ripples that collectively transform our 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.