Blessings of peace, and the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, to all of you, my brothers and sisters.
We gather today in a world of profound contrasts. It is a world of dazzling technological achievement and heartbreaking human failure; a world that speaks endlessly of rights, yet so often forgets the foundational right from which all others flow: the right to exist, to be loved, and to be recognized as a child of God. We are confronted daily by news that lays bare the wounds of our global family, and we must ask ourselves: as disciples of Christ, what is our response? Do we turn away in sorrowful resignation, or do we, with the fire of the Holy Spirit, step forward as agents of His healing?
Consider first the foundational crisis of our age: the crisis of life itself. We hear of towns divided, of clinics and courts, of eviction notices and political battles. But at the heart of this noise is a profound spiritual silence: the silence of the voice that is never allowed to speak. The Lord tells us through the prophet Jeremiah, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you.” Every life is not a potentiality, but a person known and loved by God from its very conception, set apart with a sacred purpose. When a society permits, or worse, promotes, the destruction of this most vulnerable life in the sanctuary of the mother’s womb, it does not solve a problem. It commits a catastrophic act of self-mutilation. It severs the root of its own humanity. It declares that some lives are inconvenient, and in doing so, it opens a door through which all human dignity can be trampled. A culture that does not protect its smallest and most defenseless members has already lost its soul, and its future is built on sand.
From this first denial of dignity flows a river of other injustices. We see it in the persecution of our brothers and sisters in faith, who, like those schoolchildren in Nigeria, know the terror of being seized and held captive simply for seeking knowledge and truth. Our Lord proclaimed, “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” This beatitude is not a passive consolation, but a call to active solidarity. Their persecution is our persecution. Their captivity must ignite in us a fierce and prayerful determination to defend religious freedom everywhere, to be a voice for those whose voices are silenced by fear and violence. We give thanks to God for their release, but we must not rest until every person of every faith can worship and live in peace.
And when the very guardians of justice become its destroyers, we witness the deepest betrayal. The story from Ecuador, where soldiers entrusted with protection became agents of horrific cruelty against children, chills the soul. It is a stark fulfillment in reverse of the command from Proverbs: “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves… defend the rights of the poor and needy.” Instead of speaking up, they silenced. Instead of defending, they destroyed. This is the logical end of a world that forgets the sanctity of life: when power is unchecked by conscience, it consumes the innocent. It is a warning etched in the blood of the martyred.
My dear friends, these are not isolated issues. They are the symptoms of a single, global sickness: the eclipse of the human person. We have constructed a world that often sees people as problems to be managed, resources to be exploited, or ideologies to be eliminated. This is the path to a true apocalypse—not a fiery spectacle from heaven, but a slow, cold, human-made desolation. It is the apocalypse of empty cradles and full prisons. It is the apocalypse of the silenced church and the triumphant bully. It is the apocalypse of the uniformed torturer and the forgotten victim. This is the future we will forge if we, the faithful, remain in our pews, content with private piety.
But this is not our destiny! For we are an Easter people, and “Alleluia” is our song! I call you today to envision, with the eyes of faith, a world transformed. Envision a world where every expectant mother is surrounded by a community of practical support and love, making the choice for life not a burden, but a joyful welcome. Envision a world where the children of Nigeria, and of every nation, go to school in safety, their minds free to seek God and truth. Envision a world where every soldier, every police officer, every person in authority sees in the face of the poor and the young the face of Christ Himself, and acts with sacred reverence. This is not a naive dream. This is the Kingdom of God, and it is built by the hands of good men and women cooperating with the grace of Jesus Christ. He has already solved the fundamental problem of sin and death. Now He invites us, His Body, to apply that victory to the wounds of the world.
To do this, we must first look within our own spiritual home. One of the great trials for the Church in our time is the scandal of division—within our communities, between generations, across ideological lines. We fracture into camps, speaking past one another, wasting our energy on internal strife while the world outside hungers for the unity only Christ can give. This division weakens our witness and muffles our prophetic voice. I call on every one of you, the faithful, to be artisans of communion. Seek first to understand, then to be understood. In your families, your parishes, and your online dialogues, practice the charity that “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” Let our unity be the first and greatest sermon we preach to a fragmented world.
Therefore, go forth from this place not in despair, but in divine hope. Let the suffering of the unborn move you to support pregnancy centers and to accompany struggling families. Let the persecution of the faithful move you to relentless prayer and advocacy. Let the cry of the oppressed move you to work for just laws and institutions. And let the call for unity within our Church begin with your own heart, extended in reconciliation.
The choice is before us, as stark as the choice between the Cross and the comfortable crowd. We can be bystanders to the apocalypse of the human spirit, or we can be, with Christ, its conquerors and healers. Let us choose to build. Let us choose to love. Let us choose life.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of these profound challenges, our faith calls us not to despair but to concrete, practical action in our daily spheres of influence. Our contribution is not measured in grand gestures alone, but in the consistent, quiet commitment to building a culture of life, solidarity, and justice.
Regarding the Sanctity of Life, begin by fostering a profound personal respect for human dignity in all its stages. In your daily conversations, choose language that upholds the inherent value of every person. Support, in practical ways, mothers, fathers, and families facing difficult pregnancies or struggling after a child is born. This can mean volunteering at or donating to a local pregnancy resource center that provides material support, mentoring, or parenting classes. Extend compassion and support to those who carry the wound of abortion, encouraging pathways to healing and reconciliation within your community.
Concerning Religious Persecution and Protection of the Faithful, cultivate a robust and informed solidarity. Make a conscious effort to learn about the plight of persecuted Christians and people of all faiths around the world. Use your voice and your resources to support organizations that provide direct aid, legal advocacy, and emergency relief to affected communities. In your own neighborhood, actively defend the right of all people to worship in peace. Build bridges of friendship with those of different beliefs, creating a local fabric of mutual respect that stands as a bulwark against the ideology of hatred.
For Justice and Human Dignity, commit to being a person who "speaks up" in your own context. This starts with a refusal to participate in or laugh at jokes or comments that degrade any group of people. In your workplace, school, or social circles, be the one who notices the person being left out or treated unfairly and offers a word of inclusion or defense. Support businesses and initiatives that treat workers fairly and ethically. Educate yourself on the structures in your own community that may fail the poor and vulnerable—such as lack of affordable housing or food insecurity—and then support, through time or donations, the local charities, food banks, or advocacy groups that are doing the hard work to mend these gaps.
These actions are not separate from our spiritual lives; they are its natural fruit. We change the world by first changing our own hearts and then letting that change flow into our homes, our streets, and our communities through steadfast, practical love.
Go in peace.
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