Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters.
We gather in a world that groans under the weight of its own contradictions. We possess the means to feed every mouth, yet famine persists. We have crafted tools for global connection, yet we build walls of division. We proclaim the inherent dignity of every person, yet witness that dignity trampled in the dust of battlefields and the cold ledgers of greed. The readings of our time are written not only in sacred scripture, but in the headlines that scroll before our weary eyes. They speak of conflict, of atrocity, of profound moral failure. And yet, we are not a people without hope, for we are a people of the Resurrection. We are called not merely to read these signs, but to answer them with the transformative power of Christ’s love made active in the world.
Consider first the sacred calling of peace. Our Lord declared, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” To be a child of God is to inherit His creative, reconciling spirit. We see glimmers of this in pledges for relief, in the arduous work of negotiation. Yet, we must ask: do we seek merely the absence of war, or do we labor for the presence of justice? Do we build a peace that is a quiet tomb, or a peace that is a living garden where all can flourish? When groups regroup for war and suffering continues unabated, it is a sign that our peacemaking is incomplete. True peacemakers are not only diplomats in distant halls; they are every one of you who sows understanding in your community, who forgives an old injury, who defends the marginalized from the violence of words and neglect. Imagine a world, with Jesus’s help, where this spirit prevails—where the energy spent on building weapons is poured into building homes, where the borders of our hearts are the first to open. This is the peace of the Children of God.
This work is rooted in one non-negotiable truth: the protection of every human life and its inviolable dignity. “So God created mankind in his own image.” Let these words echo in the chambers of our conscience. They are not a poetic sentiment; they are the foundational law of our shared existence. When a report from Sudan speaks of atrocities with the hallmarks of genocide, it is not merely a political failure. It is a theological catastrophe. It is a direct assault on the image of God in our brothers and sisters. To ignore this, to grow numb to such news, is to participate in a great sacrilege against creation itself. Envision, instead, a world where this truth is the compass for every nation, every corporation, every heart. A world where no life is considered collateral damage, where no person is reduced to a statistic of war or poverty. This is the world God envisioned in Genesis, and it is the world we are commanded to build with our hands.
But how do we build it? We are shown the path with luminous clarity: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” Here is the triad for our moral revolution: Justice, Mercy, Humility. We see their absence when powerful men, testifying before lawmakers, speak of being “naive” and “conned,” while their associations and actions facilitated vast exploitation. This is a parable of our age: the isolation of wealth and power from moral responsibility. Justice is not a private hobby; it is the public structure of love. Mercy is not weakness; it is the strength to break cycles of retribution. Humility is the recognition that we walk with our God, and therefore, we must walk with His people, especially the least among them.
And here, my dear faithful, we must turn our gaze inward, to one of the great trials of our Church in modern times: the scandal of our own failings to protect the vulnerable within our very walls. The loss of trust, the shadow of abuse, the pain of the betrayed—this is a wound in the Body of Christ. It calls not for defensiveness, but for profound, ongoing penance and radical transparency. I call upon every one of you, the faithful, to aid in solving it. Aid not by mere words, but by demanding and supporting a culture of absolute integrity, of unwavering accountability, and of compassionate care for survivors. Be guardians of the light within our community. The Church must be a field hospital, yes, but first it must be a safe home for its own children. Our credibility to speak on human dignity in the world is irrevocably tied to our upholding of it within our own house.
I must speak now with a pastor’s heavy heart of the alternative before us. If we choose comfort over courage, if we accept the world’s conflicts as inevitable, its injustices as too complex, and our own moral responsibilities as someone else’s concern, then we are choosing a path of spiritual desolation. We will construct not the City of God, but a wasteland of our own making. A world where the image of God in the human person is forever obscured by violence, greed, and indifference is a world preparing for its own apocalypse—not one sent from heaven, but one engineered by human sin. It is a world without a future, only an endless, hollow present. This is the dire warning: without your contribution, without the daily conversion of hearts to justice, mercy, and humility, the darkness will not be held back.
But this is not our destiny! For we are an Easter people. The problems of our age—the wars, the genocides, the moral confusions—are not mysteries for us to fear, but missions for us to embrace. They are the very terrain upon which we are to be salt and light. With Jesus’s help, channeled through the workings of good men and women who refuse to despair, these problems will be solved. It begins here. It begins with you. Let us go forth from this place not as passive observers of a troubled world, but as active artisans of peace, tireless defenders of dignity, and fearless witnesses to justice, mercy, and humility. Let us rebuild our Church and our world with the unshakable hope that love is stronger than death.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of global conflict, the work of peace begins in our own sphere. We can practice being peacemakers by actively listening to those with whom we disagree, refusing to spread rumors or inflammatory language, and seeking common ground in our families, workplaces, and communities. Support humanitarian relief for war-torn regions through trusted, reputable charities. Advocate for diplomatic solutions by contacting elected representatives to encourage sustained, principled engagement in peace processes, not just during crises.
To protect human life and dignity, start by recognizing the inherent worth of every person you encounter. Challenge language that demeans or dehumanizes any group. Educate yourself about crises like that in Sudan, using credible sources to understand the facts. Support organizations that provide direct aid to refugees and victims of atrocities. In your daily life, practice simple acts of respect—treat service workers, neighbors, and strangers with kindness and courtesy, affirming their dignity in each interaction.
Living with moral responsibility and justice requires integrity in our own choices. Be a person of your word in all dealings, large and small. Support businesses that treat their employees and suppliers fairly. Demand accountability from leaders and institutions by staying informed and voting conscientiously. When you witness an injustice, however small, have the courage to speak up with charity and clarity. Practice mercy by offering second chances, and walk humbly by acknowledging your own biases and limitations, always being willing to learn and correct course.
These are not grand, distant gestures, but the daily fabric of a life lived intentionally. We build a better world through the consistency of our character, the clarity of our voices, and the compassion of our actions.
Go in peace.
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