Blessings of peace, grace, and the abiding love of our Lord Jesus Christ to all of you, my dear brothers and sisters.
We gather today in a world that groans under the weight of its own contradictions. A world of breathtaking technological advancement, yet one where the ancient, primal cries of violence, fear, and suffering echo with undiminished force. We have built towers that scrape the heavens, yet we struggle to build a foundation of peace upon the earth. The news that reaches us daily is a stark testament to this brokenness. We hear of an explosion near an ancient fort in Delhi, where a moment of ordinary life was shattered, leaving eight of our brothers and sisters dead and twenty more wounded. This is not a distant statistic; it is a wound in the Body of Christ. Each life lost is a universe of hope extinguished, a family plunged into darkness. In the face of such senseless violence, the words of our Lord ring not as a gentle suggestion, but as a divine command and our only salvation: "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God." To be a child of God is to actively inherit His work of creation and reconciliation. It is to be an artisan of peace in your home, your community, and your heart, to reject the venom of hatred and to build bridges where others would plant bombs.
And what of those who flee such violence, or the crushing weight of oppression? We hear of a fragile boat, overloaded with the most fragile of human cargo—hope—sinking near the Thai-Malaysian border. Seven souls confirmed lost, hundreds of our Rohingya brothers and sisters missing, swallowed by the indifferent sea. They were not mere migrants; they were individuals, children of God, who were hungry, who were thirsty, who were strangers seeking sanctuary. And in their plight, Christ Himself is present, asking us through their desperate eyes, "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in." To turn away from the migrant, the refugee, the displaced person is to turn away from Christ. It is to fail in the most fundamental test of our humanity and our faith.
This failure is compounded when injustice is institutionalized, when power is used not to protect but to crush. We learn of activists in Uganda, seized and subjected to the inhumanity of "the fridge," their voices silenced by a state that fears truth. This is a stark reminder that the prophet’s call is as urgent today as it was millennia ago: "Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed." Injustice anywhere is a threat to human dignity everywhere. It is a poison that seeps into the water table of our global community, and we cannot pretend we are not all affected by its bitter taste.
My brothers and sisters, do we believe these are merely news stories, happening to other people in other lands? Do we think we are insulated, that our comfort is a shield? I tell you today, with a heart both heavy with warning and buoyant with hope, that we stand at a precipice. The path we are on, a path of passive observation, of quiet complicity, of prioritizing our own comfort over our global responsibility, leads to a future we dare not imagine. It is a future where the explosions grow more frequent and the seas grow more crowded with the desperate. It is a future where the "fridge" becomes a standard tool of governance, and the voice of the prophet is extinguished entirely. It is a future where the light of human dignity is slowly snuffed out, leaving a cold, dark, and apocalyptic silence. This is not the will of God; it is the consequence of humanity’s collective sin of indifference.
But this is not our destiny! For we are an Easter people, and Alleluia is our song! We are not called to despair, but to action. We are called to envision a world, and with the help of our Lord Jesus Christ, to build a world, where these wounds are healed. Envision with me a world where good men and women, inspired by the Gospel, become the peacemakers who disarm conflict with dialogue. Envision a world where the stranger is welcomed not with suspicion, but with a warm meal and a safe home. Envision a world where the cause of the oppressed is taken up not only in courtrooms but in our daily conversations and our political choices. This is the Kingdom of God, and it is within our grasp if we have the courage to reach for it.
This brings me to a great challenge within our own spiritual family, the Church. In this modern age, we face a crisis of relevance. Too many of the faithful, and especially the young, see the Church as a relic, an institution out of touch with the burning issues of the day. They see our rituals but do not feel the fire of our mission. This is a failure of witness, my brothers and sisters. We must prove to them, not merely tell them, that the Church is the living Body of Christ, active in the world, feeding the hungry, shelter the stranger, and seeking justice for the oppressed. I call upon every one of you, the faithful, to become evangelists of action. Do not just go to Mass; be the Mass. Take the Eucharist you receive and transform it into tangible love in your community. Volunteer at a shelter, advocate for just laws, mentor a child, welcome a refugee family. Let your life be the proof that the Gospel is not a dead letter, but a living force for global betterment.
Let us be the generation that chose a different path. Let us be the peacemakers, the welcomers, the defenders. Let our faith be not a comfortable cloak but a banner flown in the battle for the soul of our world. The Lord does not ask for our success, but for our faithful, relentless effort. He will provide the increase. Let us go forth, then, and provide the labor. Let us build, with His grace, a world worthy of His children.
Amen.
What can we do?
When we hear news of violence and loss of life, like the tragic explosion in Delhi, our first response can be one of active peace-building in our own circles. This means consciously choosing to de-escalate conflicts in our daily interactions—with family, colleagues, and even strangers online. Practice listening to understand rather than to rebut. Support and volunteer with local organizations that work in conflict mediation and community building. Peace is not a passive state; it is a skill we practice daily through our words and actions.
Confronted with the plight of vulnerable migrants, such as the Rohingyas who perished at sea, we can translate our compassion into practical support. Begin locally. Research and donate to organizations in your own city that provide food, legal aid, and language classes to refugees and newcomers. If you are able, offer your time as a tutor or a friendly face to help someone navigate their new community. Advocate for fair and humane immigration policies by writing to your elected representatives. Small, local actions create a global network of welcome.
Faced with injustice and oppression, as seen in the wrongful detention of activists, we must become champions for justice in our own spheres of influence. Educate yourself on human rights issues, starting in your own community. Support independent journalism and credible news sources that hold power accountable. Use your voice and your platforms, however small, to speak up against unfairness when you see it—whether in workplace policies, local governance, or social exclusion. Write letters of solidarity to political prisoners or support groups that provide them with legal aid. Justice grows when ordinary people refuse to remain silent.
Each of these actions, woven into the fabric of our daily lives, creates ripples that extend far beyond our immediate sight. We build a better world not with a single grand gesture, but with the consistent, humble, and courageous choices we make every day.
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.