A people who knew true suffering gathered on the mountain that day when Jesus gave his sermon. The Jews had been persecuted for centuries. They had faced exile from their homeland, and in Jerusalem, Babylonians had slain men, women, and children in the streets, taking the survivors to a foreign land. Even when they finally returned, peace eluded them. New rulers came and went; kings and high priests were appointed and overthrown. At times, near-lawlessness reigned. Even in better times, there was a deep dissatisfaction with the way the world seemed to be spiraling—a tension and fear, much like our own times, of impending violence or war. This fear brought turmoil: economic strife, spiritual unease, social unrest, and discord within families.
How many people today, in our world, have faced the same horrors as the people of Judah—exile, war, economic hardship, social distress? How can Jesus say to them, as he said to Israel and says to us now, “Be merciful, make peace, forgive”? How can he ask us to set aside our hatred and choose love, to choose the path of sainthood?
Because hatred is at the root of all our troubles. Hatred divides us. It separates us from God and each other, leading us to justify violence, to force our will on others. It drives cycles of revenge, arrogance, and the false belief that we can solve the world’s problems if we just follow a particular ideology, adopt a specific economic model, or elect the right leaders. Hatred is the very opposite of our faith.
But letting go of hatred and choosing true love isn’t easy. Human history bears witness to this struggle. We cannot merely hear this message and live it. We need to see it lived; we need guidance on this path. And so, God showed us the way. He entered our world, took on human flesh, and became one of us. The Word became flesh so we could follow God’s Word. He shared in our suffering to show his love, to reconcile us to the Father, to teach us to let go of hatred, and to reconcile us with each other, teaching us to love as he loves.
God was born in a stable to experience the depths of our poverty. He was rejected by his people to share in our loneliness. He fasted in the desert to share our hunger. He was mocked and crowned with thorns to share in our humiliations. He was scourged and beaten to bear our physical pain. Finally, he was nailed to a cross and died to share in our mortality and to confront our deepest fears.
And yet, even knowing all this, knowing what he would endure, he chose to love us and showed us how to love. Fully aware of how we would treat him, Jesus still came to open the way to the Father, the way to sainthood. He healed the sick, gave sight to the blind, forgave sinners. He showed us what love, peace, and justice look like—and they look like the cross.
The cross is a life of service, a life poured out in love for others, even to the point of death. Jesus calls us to carry our own cross: to love our enemies, to forgive those who wrong us, to turn the other cheek even when we know they may hurt us again. He calls us to a boundless love, loving those who are like us and those who are different, loving those who love us back and those who do not.
When we love with all our heart, with every fiber of our being, when the fiery love of Jesus’s Sacred Heart burns within our own, then we will know peace—the peace that God promises to his saints. We will know the peace of Christ, the peace of being united in him, a peace that cannot be taken away.
Today, we celebrate that peace. We celebrate the countless multitude that stands before the throne of God, that great crowd who chose love over hate, mercy over revenge, peace over violence, and who now enjoy their reward. On this feast of All Saints, we celebrate God’s victory in countless lives, a victory that lifted many from sin and brought them to himself. We celebrate the men and women who have given us ever more models of the life of Christ. And today, through God’s grace, we are called again to become saints ourselves.