Blessings of peace to all of you, my brothers and sisters in Christ.
We gather in the radiant light of the Resurrection, a light that reveals both the profound beauty of God’s creation and the terrible shadows we have allowed to fall upon it. Our world, this precious garden entrusted to our care, is crying out. It is a cry that rises from the blood-stained floors of homes where the innocent are slaughtered, from the silent, unmarked resting places of the forgotten, and from the polluted wellsprings of public discourse where truth is traded for power. We hear this cry, and we must ask ourselves: as followers of the Risen Lord, what is our response?
Consider the little ones. “See that you do not despise one of these little ones,” Our Lord teaches us, “For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven.” To despise is not only to hate; it is to disregard, to deem unimportant, to fail to protect. When a child, fearfully and wonderfully made in the divine image, is cut down by violence—whether in a distant war, a troubled neighborhood, or a home shattered by sin—we have collectively failed. We have allowed a culture of death to whisper that some lives are disposable, that rage is a right, and that the vulnerable are a burden. Their angels behold the face of the Father, while we, too often, turn our own faces away.
This contempt for the sanctity of life extends to its very dawn. The Psalmist sings to God, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.” Every life is a song composed by the Creator, a unique and irreplaceable melody. To discard the bodies of infants like refuse is not merely an unlawful act; it is a symphonic blasphemy, a violent rejection of the sacred. It speaks of a deeper sickness: a world that has grown cold to wonder, that sees not a person but a problem, not a child but a consequence. This is the logic of the throwaway culture, and it infects our relationships, our economies, and our very souls.
Into this cacophony of violence and disregard, we are called to be bearers of a different word: Truth. “Then you will know the truth,” Jesus promises, “and the truth will set you free.” But what truth do we speak? In an age of tyrants of all kinds—tyrants of ideology, of wealth, of distorted narratives—the truth is not a weapon to bludgeon an opponent. It is not a soundbite to be twisted for political advantage. The truth is a person: Jesus Christ. And the truth He embodies is one of inviolable dignity, of relentless mercy, and of responsibility for one another. When moral leadership falters, when words are wielded to obscure rather than to illuminate, the people perish for lack of vision. We, the Church, must be that vision. We must be the unwavering voice that names the child as a blessing, the poor as our brothers, and the stranger as Christ Himself.
Yet, we must look inward with humility. One of the great wounds our Church bears in the modern world, a wound that cripples our moral voice, is the scandal of division among the faithful. Our internal strife, our public quarrels, and our failure at times to embody the communion we preach have clouded our witness. We cannot credibly call the world to unity and peace if we are fractured within our own household. I call upon every bishop, every priest, every religious, and every layperson to make the healing of this division a paramount work of charity. Let us lay down the arms of accusation and pick up the tools of dialogue, forgiveness, and humble service. Let our unity be the first sermon we preach to a fragmented world.
Now, envision with me, through the eyes of faith, the world that is possible. See a world where the command to protect the little ones is so engraved on every heart that such violence becomes unthinkable. See a world where every expectant mother is surrounded by a community of support, where every child is welcomed with joy as a masterpiece of the Creator. See a world where leaders, inspired by the Gospel, seek not to dominate but to serve, speaking truth with love and integrity. This is not a naive dream. This is the Kingdom of God, breaking through, and it is built by the daily, deliberate choices of good men and women animated by the Spirit of the Risen Christ. It is built by the father who chooses patience over anger, the mother who chooses life despite fear, the politician who chooses justice over expediency, and the young person who chooses service over cynicism. With Jesus’s help, this is our work.
But hear now a solemn warning, born not of despair but of prophetic love. If we, the people of God, retreat into our sanctuaries and close our eyes; if we decide these global sorrows are not our concern; if we consume the world’s distractions while ignoring its agonies, then the shadows will lengthen. The violence will not be contained. The disregard for life will not be quarantined to the womb or the grave. It will consume the elderly, the infirm, the different, and eventually, it will claim our own humanity. We will build not a civilization of love, but a dystopia of isolation, where the strong devour the weak and the image of God in every person is finally erased. This is the apocalyptic path of our own making—a world without Easter, a perpetual Good Friday of our own selfish design.
The choice is before us, this day. We are not helpless. The same power that conquered death dwells within you through your baptism. Let us go forth from this place, therefore, as builders of the new world. Protect a child. Support a family in crisis. Speak the truth with courage and charity. Forgive a brother or sister in the Church. Engage in the public square with faith and reason. Do not grow weary. For we do not labor alone. The Lord is Risen, and He labors with us, in us, and through us, until that glorious day when every tear is wiped away, and every little one rests safe in the arms of their Heavenly Father.
Amen.
What can we do?
In the face of violence that claims the lives of the innocent, particularly children, our practical response must be one of vigilant care and support. We can commit to being present and attentive within our own families and communities. Listen without judgment to those under stress. Support local organizations that provide counseling, crisis intervention, and safe havens for families in distress. Advocate for and volunteer with programs that mentor young people and offer positive alternatives to violence. In our daily interactions, we must model patience and non-violent conflict resolution, showing that every person, especially the young, deserves to be treated with inherent dignity and protected from harm.
Confronted with a disregard for the sanctity of life, especially at its most vulnerable stages, our actions must affirm the worth of every person. We can support, through our time or resources, pregnancy care centers and social services that offer tangible assistance to mothers, fathers, and families in need. We can foster a culture of life by offering practical help to those caring for the sick, the elderly, or the marginalized in our own neighborhoods. This means checking on a lonely neighbor, providing a meal to a struggling family, or simply treating every individual we meet—from the grocery clerk to the stranger on the street—with a respect that acknowledges their profound value.
In an era of confusion where truth is often contested and leadership can falter, we are called to be people of integrity in our own spheres. We must commit to honesty in our speech, refusing to spread rumors or engage in malicious gossip. We should seek out reliable information before forming opinions, and have the courage to correct misinformation calmly, even when it is inconvenient. In our workplaces, families, and social circles, we can lead by moral example—taking responsibility for our mistakes, keeping our promises, and standing up for what is right, especially when it is unpopular. By being trustworthy and truthful in small matters, we contribute to a foundation of trust in our society.
Our faith is made real through these hands-on works. Start where you are. Use what you have. Do not underestimate the power of a single act of kindness, a stance for truth, or a commitment to protect the vulnerable. The world is changed by the daily, practical love of ordinary people.
Go in peace.
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