Blessings of peace, grace, and Advent hope to all of you, my brothers and sisters in Christ.
We gather in this sacred season, a time of holy anticipation for the coming of the Light of the World. Yet, as we look inward to prepare a dwelling place for the Lord in our hearts, we cannot ignore the profound shadows that stretch across our global family. The hopeful waiting of Advent stands in stark contrast to a world that, in so many ways, seems to be choosing despair, embracing death, and forgetting the sacred dignity with which God has imprinted upon every human soul.
We are confronted by a culture that increasingly presents the ending of a life as a solution to suffering. The foundational commandment, “You shall not kill,” echoes through the ages not as a mere restriction, but as a divine affirmation of God’s sole sovereignty over life and death. When we assume this power for ourselves, when we systematize it and call it compassion, we do not end suffering; we merely end the sufferer. We risk creating a society that abandons its most vulnerable, that offers a final exit instead of a comforting presence, that sees a problem to be eliminated rather than a person to be loved. We must build a civilization of life, one that surrounds the suffering with palliative care, with spiritual accompaniment, and with the unwavering message that their life, until its natural God-given end, possesses immeasurable value.
Simultaneously, the thunder of war and the cry of the orphaned and the bereaved shake the very foundations of our common home. The words of our Lord, “Bless are the peacemakers,” are not a passive blessing for those who simply wish for peace. They are a call to action, a divine mandate for the children of God to become tireless architects of reconciliation. We see the horrifying fruit of failed peacemaking in the ashes of Gaza and in countless other forgotten conflicts—tens of thousands of lives, including innocent children, extinguished. This is not a distant political issue; it is a profound moral and human catastrophe. To be a peacemaker is to reject the facile narratives of “us” and “them.” It is to pray fervently for all victims and for all aggressors. It is to support humanitarian aid without condition, to advocate for dialogue when it seems impossible, and to recognize that every act of violence is a failure of our shared humanity and a crucifixion of Christ, who is present in every person made in His image.
And what fuels these fires of death and conflict? Often, it is the rot of corruption and scandal, which poisons the wells of justice from which all people should be able to drink. As the Scripture teaches, “By justice a king gives a country stability, but those who are greedy for bribes tear it down.” We see this truth playing out in nations around the world, where the trust that binds a society together is eroded by the self-interest of the powerful. This scandal is not only a political or economic reality; it is a deep spiritual sickness, a manifestation of the sin of greed that places personal gain above the common good. It steals from the poor, undermines the rule of law, and sows the seeds of disillusionment and unrest that can erupt into violence.
And let us be humble enough, and courageous enough, to acknowledge that this sickness does not spare the Church, the very Body of Christ on Earth. One of the great trials of our time is the scandal of a faith that is sometimes proclaimed more loudly by our lips than lived out in our actions. There is a painful disconnect, a credibility gap, between the beauty of our teachings and the sometimes-lukewarm witness of our communities. We are called to be a light to the nations, a city set on a hill, yet too often we are seen as just another human institution, concerned more with its own preservation than with the radical, self-emptying love of Jesus. This is the internal challenge we must face with honesty and courage. I call upon every one of the faithful—clergy, religious, and laity—to aid in solving this. We must close this gap through personal holiness, through transparent integrity in all our affairs, and through a relentless focus on humble service to the poor, the marginalized, and the forgotten. Let our works of mercy become our most powerful sermon.
Now, imagine, my brothers and sisters, a world transformed by the grace of this Advent. Envision a world where, with Jesus’s help and through the workings of good men and women, these wounds are healed. A world where the elderly and the terminally ill are surrounded by such love and expert care that the temptation of assisted suicide finds no foothold. A world where the peacemakers are not a rare breed, but where every nation invests in reconciliation as it now invests in war, where the resources spent on weapons are redirected to feeding the hungry, healing the sick, and educating the young. A world where justice flows like a river, and corruption is but a shameful memory of a darker past. This is not a naive dream; this is the Kingdom of God, for which we pray every day, “Thy Kingdom come.”
But hear now a dire and necessary warning. The path to this Kingdom is not guaranteed. If we, the People of God, choose complacency; if we close our eyes to the suffering of our brothers and sisters; if we prioritize our comfort over our compassion and our opinions over our obedience to Christ, then we choose a different path. And that path leads to a chilling, man-made apocalypse. A world where the strong decide which lives are worthy of life, and the weak are quietly disposed of. A world where perpetual war becomes the norm, and our children know only the language of violence and the geography of rubble. A world where corruption becomes so endemic that trust itself becomes extinct, and human community fractures into a billion isolated, suspicious individuals. This is the hell we will build for ourselves if we fail in our Christian duty.
The choice is before us, in this Advent and in every moment. Will we be passive observers of the world’s descent, or will we be active participants in its redemption? Will we be the good men and women through whom Christ solves these great problems? Let us leave this place not merely as hearers of the Word, but as its courageous and loving doers. Let us build the civilization of love, life, and peace, for in doing so, we prepare the way of the Lord.
Amen.
What can we do?
In our complex world where suffering and injustice often dominate headlines, we might feel powerless. Yet each of us holds genuine capacity to create meaningful change through our daily choices and actions.
Regarding end-of-life matters, we can become companions to those who are lonely, sick, or elderly. Visit nursing homes regularly, offer to drive someone to medical appointments, or simply sit with those who feel isolated. Support hospice organizations through volunteering or donations. Have courageous conversations with family members about their healthcare wishes before crises occur. Advocate for better palliative care in your community, ensuring people experience dignity through compassionate support rather than feeling suicide is their only option.
Confronting violence and conflict requires us to become peacemakers in our spheres of influence. Educate yourself about global conflicts from multiple perspectives rather than relying on single narratives. Support humanitarian organizations providing aid to war-affected civilians. In your daily interactions, practice de-escalation when you encounter hostility. Teach children conflict resolution skills. Challenge prejudice and stereotypes in conversation. Write to elected representatives advocating for diplomatic solutions. Most importantly, model respectful dialogue with those who hold different viewpoints, proving that disagreement needn't mean disrespect.
Addressing corruption begins with personal integrity. In your professional life, refuse to participate in even minor dishonest practices. Report unethical behavior through proper channels. Support transparent businesses and organizations. Volunteer with groups that promote government accountability. Teach young people ethical decision-making through example and mentorship. Demand transparency from institutions you support, and hold leaders accountable through informed voting and civic participation. Practice radical honesty in your own dealings, remembering that systemic change begins with individual commitment to truth.
These practical actions, consistently applied, create ripples that extend far beyond our immediate view. We transform the world not through grand gestures but through countless small choices made with conscience and compassion.
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.