Violence has always left a deep emptiness in the human heart. When an act of hatred occurs, or when tragedy strikes unexpectedly, the earth seems to stop for a moment. The air grows heavy, eyes fill with tears, and the soul asks: Why is there so much pain in a world where hope still beats? In those moments, the only answer that transcends is the love of God—a love that calls us to heal what violence wounds, to bring light where darkness threatens.
From ancient times, the Lord has taught that life is sacred. The psalmist expressed it tenderly: “For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:13–14). Every life, then, is not chance nor accident, but a miracle. That is why, when a life is taken away by hatred, it is not only a person who is lost: a divine work is profaned, a heavenly purpose interrupted.
In this world marked by divisions, clashing ideologies, and inherited resentments, we are invited to something higher: reconciliation. The apostle Paul declared it firmly: “If it is possible, as much as it depends on you, live peaceably with all men” (Romans 12:18). That exhortation is not mere words; it is a call to build bridges where once there were walls. Peace is never accidental; it must be planted, cultivated, and sometimes defended with the patience of true love.
And yet, we cannot deny that violence seems to multiply. News of wars, murders, and social conflict fill our days with uncertainty. Jesus, fully aware of the reality of the world, taught clearly: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God” (Matthew 5:9). This is not only about avoiding physical violence, but also about extinguishing the fire of hatred within hearts—about answering evil with good, even when human nature longs to do otherwise.
Hatred, like a poisonous seed, corrodes everything it touches. It may begin with hurtful words, with hasty judgments, with intolerance disguised as truth. If not rooted out, it grows into violence that destroys homes, families, and communities. That is why the message of Jesus is so urgent: “A new commandment I give unto you, that you love one another; as I have loved you” (John 13:34). Love is not a shallow feeling; it is a sacred decision. It is the choice to see in another person a child of God—even when their actions wound us or their thoughts contradict ours.
When violence strikes, the natural response is indignation, even the desire for revenge. But the Master taught another way: “But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). How can something so difficult be done? Not by human willpower, but by the transforming power of Christ within us. Only when He reigns in our hearts can bitterness turn into compassion, and hatred into an opportunity for redemption.
In the midst of tragedy, it is natural to weep. Jesus Himself wept at the tomb of His friend Lazarus (John 11:35). It is not weakness to feel pain or grief; it is part of our humanity. But what God asks is that such pain does not consume us, but rather moves us to comfort others. Paul expressed it this way: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). When we share the pain of others, our tears become a language of solidarity, and in that unity, a force is born that can heal collective wounds.
Now more than ever, the world needs communities built upon dignity, compassion, and respect. We live surrounded by differences—of language, culture, and thought. But no difference is an excuse for contempt or violence. The prophet Micah said it with simplicity, as if speaking directly to our time: “He has shown you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8). That triad—justice, mercy, and humility—is the true foundation of coexistence.
Building a better world does not begin with grand speeches, but with small acts of kindness. Every kind word, every gesture of help, every effort to understand those who think differently, are bricks in the building of a more just society. And though it may seem insignificant, every act of love multiplies. Jesus compared the kingdom of God to a mustard seed—something small, almost invisible, yet with the potential to grow into a tree that provides shelter and refuge (Matthew 13:31–32). Likewise, the seed of kindness we plant today can bear abundant fruit for generations to come.
The pain caused by violence is never completely erased, but it can be transformed into a reminder of what must never be repeated. On the cross, the Son of God endured the most unjust and cruel violence, and yet His lips declared: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). That phrase is the summit of human dignity and the highest revelation of divine love. If He could forgive from the cross, then we too can learn to heal and to forgive from our own wounds.
The future we long for will not be handed to us on a silver platter; it must be worked for with faith, prayer, and daily action. As Isaiah wrote: “The work of righteousness will be peace, and the effect of righteousness, quietness and assurance forever” (Isaiah 32:17). True righteousness does not seek revenge but restoration. It is not founded on imposing force, but on cultivating the common good.
That is why every person has a role in this calling. It is not only about leaders, governments, or institutions—it is about each human heart. In the silence of our daily decisions—how we speak, how we react, how we treat a neighbor, a stranger, even an adversary—there is where it is decided whether we are part of the problem or part of the solution.
Violence wants to keep us trapped in an endless cycle of pain. Love, on the other hand, opens new paths. As the apostle John wrote: “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love” (1 John 4:8). If we truly seek a safer, fairer, and more human world, we must begin by recognizing that the root of all true transformation is the love of God in action.
Thus, while we weep over the losses that violence brings, we also lift our eyes to heaven with hope. Darkness will never be eternal, because there is a light that shines stronger than any hatred. That light is Christ, and He invites us to walk in it. With dignity, compassion, and respect, we can turn wounds into testimonies, and tragedy into an opportunity to show that love will always be stronger than death.
