Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters, on this Sunday, the Sixth in Ordinary Time.
We gather in the light of Christ, a light that reveals both the profound beauty of God’s creation and the deep shadows our world has chosen to inhabit. We come not to hide from these shadows, but to confront them with the blazing torch of faith, hope, and love. For the world we inhabit is crying out, and the Lord asks us, through the prophet’s ancient plea, to “Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed. Rescue the weak and the needy.”
Look at the world, dear brothers and sisters. Look with the eyes of Christ. See the faces of the innocent in a village in Nigeria, where the night is shattered not by prayer, but by violence; where homes become pyres and lives are extinguished with unspeakable cruelty. These are not distant headlines; they are our brothers and sisters, their blood crying out to heaven. This is the stark reality when the protection of the vulnerable is abandoned, when human life is stripped of its sacred dignity and made a commodity of terror.
And see the faces of the most vulnerable of all, the newborn child, whose life is a pure gift from God. When we speak of the sanctity of life, we speak of a truth that must illuminate every corner of human endeavor, including the halls of science and medicine. To treat the priceless human person, at any stage, as a mere subject for experimentation, to withhold proven care for the sake of a trial, is to violate the foundational commandment: “You shall not murder.” For to murder is not only to take a life with violence; it is to assault the very principle that every life is inviolable, worthy of protection and the fullest measure of our care from conception to natural death.
From where does such blindness come? It springs from a crisis of moral leadership, from a world where power and privilege too often corrupt the very hearts meant to steward justice. We see it when those in positions of great influence and trust become entangled in webs of moral compromise, calling evil “uncle” and accepting its gilded gifts. As the Scripture teaches, “The wicked flee though no one pursues, but the righteous are as bold as a lion.” Where are our lions? Where are the leaders whose boldness is rooted not in arrogance, but in unwavering virtue? When justice is a negotiable concept and moral courage is abandoned, the foundations of society crumble, leaving the innocent exposed and the wicked emboldened.
This is the world we are called to transform. And we must not despair, for we are not alone. Imagine, with the eyes of faith, a world redeemed by Christ through the workings of good men and women. Imagine villages where children sleep in peace, guarded by communities that have chosen reconciliation over vengeance. Imagine laboratories and clinics where the drive for progress is always, and without exception, guided by an ethic of profound reverence for the gift of life. Imagine boardrooms and courtrooms, parliaments and public squares, where leaders stand with the boldness of lions for what is true and just, their integrity a shield for the people.
This is not a naive dream. It is our Christian vocation. It is the Kingdom of God breaking through, but it requires our hands, our voices, our unwavering commitment.
Yet, within our own holy Church, we face a trial that weakens our witness and dims our light. I speak of the plague of division, of harsh rhetoric and factionalism that turns us inward, making us a people who argue over the splinter in our brother’s eye while the world outside bleeds from a thousand wounds. We fracture into camps, judging one another’s orthodoxy or progressivism, while the hungry wait for bread, the lonely wait for comfort, and the lost wait for a shepherd. This internal strife is a paralysis of love. I call on every one of you, the faithful, to aid in solving this. Be artisans of communion. Seek first to understand, then to be understood. Let your primary identity be not that of a traditionalist or a reformer, but of a disciple of Jesus Christ, committed to the unity for which He prayed. From this healed communion will flow a torrent of credible, effective charity that can truly change the world.
For if we do not act—if we remain comfortable in our pews, indifferent to the cries of the innocent, complacent about ethical transgressions, silent in the face of corrupt leadership, and content with our own internal divisions—then we choose a path of desolation. The warnings are not merely symbolic. A world that consistently chooses violence over life, exploitation over ethics, cowardice over justice, and division over love, is a world writing its own epitaph. It is a world descending into a man-made apocalypse of its own design: a spiritual and material wasteland where trust is extinct, hope is a forgotten language, and the image of God in every person is finally and utterly defaced. We see the seeds of this harvest being sown daily. We must uproot them.
But today, on this Sunday, we are given a choice. We choose the Resurrection. We choose to be the hands and heart of Christ in a wounded world. Let us leave this place not merely as a congregation that has heard a sermon, but as an army of peace, a hospital of mercy, a voice of truth, and a family of love. Let us defend the innocent, uphold the sanctity of every life, demand justice from our leaders and from ourselves, and heal the divisions within our own home. Let us build, with Jesus’s help and through our own tireless work, the world He envisioned.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of such profound challenges, our faith calls us not to despair, but to a quiet, determined revolution of daily action. Our contribution is not measured in grand gestures alone, but in the consistent, practical choices that shape our corners of the world. Here is how we can begin.
Regarding the protection of the innocent and vulnerable, our task is to build a culture of vigilant care. This starts with seeing and valuing those closest to us who are isolated or struggling—the elderly neighbor, the new family, the coworker facing hardship. Practically, we can support, with our time or resources, the organizations that provide direct aid and advocacy, whether they are local shelters, international relief agencies, or groups defending human rights. We must also become informed consumers and investors, asking if our purchases or our bank’s investments inadvertently support conflicts or exploitation. Write to your representatives, urging them to prioritize humanitarian aid and diplomatic solutions. Protection is built by a thousand acts of conscious solidarity.
On the sanctity of life and medical ethics, we are called to be advocates for human dignity in all its stages. This means educating ourselves on the ethical dimensions of science and medicine. Support research institutions and health initiatives that maintain the highest transparent standards and prioritize truly informed consent, especially in vulnerable communities. In your own community, you can volunteer with or donate to groups that support maternal health, prenatal care, and pediatric services, ensuring that the basic right to health is upheld for every child and mother. Champion policies that ensure medical innovations serve all people equitably, not just the privileged.
For justice and moral leadership, we must first cultivate integrity in our own spheres. Examine your own life and work: do you have the courage to speak up against a questionable joke, to reject the “small” corruptions of cutting corners, or to choose honesty when deception is easier? Support transparency in business and government by demanding it and by patronizing companies with clear ethical practices. Mentor a young person, emphasizing character over mere success. When leaders fail, our practical response is to actively participate in shaping better systems—vote, serve on local boards, and hold institutions accountable through respectful but firm civic engagement. Justice grows when ordinary people refuse to be complicit in silence.
These are not distant ideals. They are the fabric of a faithful life lived in the world. We start where we are, with what we have. We choose one thing today, and another tomorrow. We build a better world by the sum of our just choices, our merciful glances, and our peaceful acts of courage.
Go in peace.
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