Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters.
We gather today, a people of hope in a world that often feels shadowed by despair. We look upon the works of humanity and we see, etched alongside our great achievements, profound wounds. These are not mere news headlines; they are the cries of the human heart, the tears of God’s children, echoing through the corridors of power and the silence of forgotten places. Today, we must have the courage to look upon these wounds, not to succumb to cynicism, but to understand the depth of our Christian calling to be healers.
We are confronted, first, by the unfruitful works of darkness that corrupt the soul and exploit the vulnerable. When the powerful consort with the wicked, when influence is found in the company of predators, it is a scandal that poisons the well of trust for all society. It whispers the lie that privilege offers immunity from morality. The Apostle Paul commands us not only to take no part in such works, but to expose them. This is a call to luminous integrity. It is a demand for transparency in our institutions, in our governments, and yes, within our own Church. For we know all too well the devastating shadow cast by the sin of sexual abuse, a betrayal that has wounded the innocent and scarred the Body of Christ. This moral corruption, wherever it festers, is a direct assault on human dignity, turning persons into objects and shrouding the image of God within them in darkness.
From this corruption flows a river of injustice, and its most bitter waters are those that poison the lives of children and families. To see a child detained, to hear of a family torn apart by cold indifference, is to witness a failure of humanity so profound it cries out to heaven. “See that you do not despise one of these little ones,” our Lord teaches us. For in their eyes, we see the reflected gaze of the Heavenly Father. When a system, any system, treats a child with cruelty, declaring it “bereft of human decency,” that system has lost its soul. It has forgotten that every family is a sacred sanctuary, and every child a bearer of divine promise. Our societies are judged not by their wealth or power, but by how they treat their smallest and most defenseless members.
And what are the fruits of a world that despises the little ones and revels in darkness? We see them in the persecution and suffering of the innocent. We see them in the miners of Ukraine, men seeking only their daily bread, struck down in a moment of violence. Their lives, their hopes, their families shattered. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake,” Jesus proclaims. But let us be clear: the blessing is not upon the persecution itself, which is always an evil, but upon the unwavering fidelity of those who suffer for what is right. Their blood, their tears, are a searing indictment of our global failure to be peacemakers, to be protectors. Their suffering calls us to account.
My brothers and sisters, envision with me, not a utopia of our own making, but the Kingdom of God breaking through our despair. Envision a world where the works of darkness are not merely condemned, but are rendered impossible by a culture of radiant accountability and respect. See a world where no child knows the cold bar of a detention cell, but only the warm embrace of a family and a community that cherishes them. Imagine a land where the miner returns safely to his supper, where the weapons of war are silenced, because the justice and peace of Christ have taken root in human hearts. This is not a naive dream. This is the promise of the Resurrection, working through the hands of good men and women who have decided to cooperate with grace. This is the world Jesus helps us to build when we offer Him our courage, our voices, and our hands.
Yet, we cannot build this world if we are a divided or a weakened Church. One of the great trials of our time is the fragmentation of our community, the temptation to retreat into enclaves of ideology or comfort, to let the digital sphere breed discord rather than communion. We are called to be one Body, a universal sacrament of unity for a fractured world. But how can we offer unity if we do not embody it? I call upon every one of the faithful, from the cardinals to the catechumens, to actively mend the tears within our own family. Seek dialogue over diatribe, understanding over accusation, and charity above all. Rebuild the bonds of trust through humble service and patient listening. Let our internal unity be the first and most powerful sermon we preach to a world tearing itself apart.
For if we do not act—if we choose complacency over courage, indifference over integrity, division over love—then we must heed a dire warning. The path we are on leads not to a kingdom, but to an apocalypse of our own making. A world where darkness is never exposed becomes a world of perpetual night. A world that despises its children raises a generation that knows only despair and violence. A world that ignores the persecution of the innocent will soon find that no one is safe, and that the machinery of suffering will eventually consume us all. This is not the wrath of God; it is the logical, tragic consequence of humanity rejecting its own sacred calling to love.
But this is not our fate. We are people of the Light. Today, we recall the Presentation of the Lord, when the infant Jesus was brought into the Temple. He was recognized as a “light for revelation to the Gentiles.” That Light, my dear friends, is now entrusted to us. We must carry it into the dark corners of our world—into the halls of power, the cold cells of injustice, the war-torn fields of persecution, and into the wounded heart of our own Church.
Take up this light. Expose the works of darkness. Cherish every child. Stand with the persecuted. And with every act of mercy, with every stand for justice, with every prayer for unity, you are helping Jesus solve the great problems of our age. You are building, stone by stone, a world worthy of the children of God.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of such profound challenges, our faith calls us not to despair, but to a clear-eyed and practical commitment to building a better world. Our daily lives are the workshop where this work begins. Here is how we can translate our concern into concrete action.
Regarding the shadows of abuse and moral corruption, we must cultivate a personal and communal integrity that leaves no room for complicity. This means actively choosing transparency and accountability in our own spheres of influence—in our families, workplaces, and social circles. Support and donate to independent journalism and organizations that investigate corruption and hold power to account. Teach the young people in your life, by word and example, about the sacred dignity of every person and the meaning of true consent. When you witness wrongdoing, do not look away; follow proper channels to report it, whether it’s in a local institution or a corporate setting. Create environments where victims feel safe to speak, and be a listener who believes them.
Confronting injustice against children and families requires a compassionate heart paired with practical support. Learn about the realities facing immigrant and refugee families in your own community. Volunteer with or donate to legal aid societies that provide representation to those in detention. Support local food banks, childcare cooperatives, and family shelters that offer a tangible safety net. Advocate through legitimate channels for policies that prioritize keeping families together and treating all people, especially the most vulnerable, with inherent dignity. Mentor a child, offer respite to a struggling parent, or simply ensure your own community is a welcoming one.
In response to the persecution and suffering of the innocent, we are called to be builders of peace and providers of solace. Contribute to reputable humanitarian organizations delivering aid to conflict zones, such as those providing medical care, shelter, and sustenance to civilians in Ukraine and other regions of violence. Write to your elected representatives, urging them to support diplomatic solutions and the protection of non-combatants. Foster peace in your own community by refusing to engage in or spread dehumanizing rhetoric about any group of people. Welcome refugees and newcomers, helping them find housing, work, and community. Pray, but also let your prayer move your hands to help and your voice to advocate.
This work is not grand or distant. It is the sum of a thousand small, deliberate choices: where we spend our money, how we use our time, the tone of our conversations, and the courage of our convictions. We build a world of light by refusing to hide the darkness, by extending a hand to the littlest among us, and by standing in solidarity with those who suffer. Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.
Go in peace.
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