Divine Appeal Reflection - 14
Today, consider in Divine Appeal 14: "Sinful humanity has transformed the earth into a scene of crimes."
The world was born as a hymn, a radiant harmony of praise where every created thing was a word spoken in love. The morning stars once sang together because man’s heart was still attuned to God’s music (cf. Job 38:7). Creation itself was a liturgy—mountains were altars, rivers became psalms, and every human action was meant to be a continuation of divine worship. But sin has defiled this holy harmony.What was meant to be a dwelling of divine communion now groans beneath rebellion. Humanity, intended as priest and steward of creation, has desecrated the altar of the world with greed, bloodshed, and indifference.Love, born as pure gift, decays into self-serving appetite. Innocence is mocked as naïve; truth is auctioned to the highest bidder. What was fashioned to echo eternity now resounds with discord. The same brain that was created to think about God now plans revolt; the same lips that were created to bless now condemn. The tower of Babel rises again, with man pursuing divinity while rejecting the Divine, from the silent slaughter of the unborn to the abuse of marriage, from the idolatry of wealth to the culture of blasphemy (cf. Gen 11:4). As the Catechism makes clear, sin is not only failure but rupture—a wound that taints communication with God, one's neighbour, and even creation (cf. CCC 1849–1850). Thus, the world that should have been a garden of grace now lies as a battlefield of souls, awaiting redemption through the mercy of Our Adorable Jesus. The world’s violence is thus the external symptom of an inner rupture—a world attempting to live divorced from its Source. However, even though we step on His gifts, God does not withdraw. His compassion is hurt but still open, and He is still waiting for people to understand that without Him, every advancement turns into poison and every liberation is a form of slavery.
There was a time when mankind quaked in front of the mystery of God, when moral sense was holy ground and guilt was the way to grace. Now, that trembling has been silenced. The modern heart has grown numb, no longer fearing sin because it no longer believes in holiness. The great rot of our time is spiritual anesthesia: sin has become entertainment, moral relativism a creed, and conscience a negotiable opinion. Applause, not worship, is now used to assess what was previously sacred, making it a commodity.The world has transformed sanctity into performance and reverence into mockery. Ignoring that freedom taken from the good is not liberty but exile, we exalt choice while hating truth (cf. Jn 8:34–36; CCC 1733). The soul that worships autonomy soon discovers it has built its own prison. Even the Church, called to be light, now flickers under the shadow of cultural approval. We soften the Gospel to be palatable, mistaking indulgence for mercy and silence for peace. But where truth is diluted, charity dies. The fear of the Lord—the fountain of wisdom (cf. Prov 9:10)—has been replaced by the dread of mockery, of being called “intolerant” or “irrelevant.” Yet, in the eyes of Heaven, relevance without reverence is ruin. Every compromise with sin corrodes the soul’s sensitivity to grace. When evil no longer horrifies us, sanctity no longer attracts us. The Divine Appeal calls us to reawaken our conscience—to tremble again before the mystery of God. Renewal will not come from innovation, but from conversion. The earth will not be healed by progress, but by penance. The world’s restoration begins when humanity rediscovers how to fall to its knees.
In the midst of the uproar and tumult caused by the world's iniquities, there is only one silence that can be heard—the silence of the Cross. At this point, Jesus does not react to humanity's hate with rage but instead with love. His gentle and homely voice is God's way of perpetuating forgiveness to a world that has lost even the ability to hear; it is not a sign of weakness but an act of compassion. The might of human pride is subdued by God's mercy which knows no bounds. Calvary is the still point of eternity—the moment when hatred exhausted itself and love remained standing. The Cross became the whisper of divine mercy and the thunder of divine justice on that hill: tenderness and judgement coming together in one wounded heart. It reveals that redemption is love that never stops giving, and sin is not just failure but the rejection of love. Every pretence of independence crumbles before this mystery; every soul discovers that surrender, not strength, is the key to victory in God. Salvation originated from the stillness of a God who allowed Himself to be pierced, not from conquest. Christ did not turn away from the world’s decay—He entered it, transfiguring corruption from within by the radiance of His obedience (cf. Phil 2:6–8). The Word made flesh did not cleanse by avoidance but by immersion, transforming decay into redemption. In allowing His Heart to be wounded, He broke open ours—hearts long calcified by pride and self-interest—fulfilling the divine promise to give us hearts of flesh (cf. Ez 36:26).
The Cross stands, therefore, as the physician’s table of the soul: where divine love performs surgery on the sickness of self-love. Every generation that rejects the Cross crucifies love again, mocking truth, numbing conscience, and enthroning desire. The Crucified Jesus does not withdraw from the world’s corruption—He remains within it, pouring out mercy from His wounds like a ceaseless stream of grace. His suffering endures as the world’s true medicine, offered even to hearts that prefer their own poison. Standing at the Cross, one witnesses the great weight of sin and the unfailing force of God's love at the same time. God is now showing the world how to get rid of sins, which really consists of taking suffering as an altar, praying in pain, being absolutely forgiving without any conditions, and hoping nothing in return. Only the silent, selfless, and devoted love of the cross can mend the wounds of a world that has lost its capacity for love. Only the love of the cross—painful love that yields blessings—can redeem the world.A culture that conflates excess with freedom can be purified by such love.
Though the world seems lost, Heaven has not withdrawn. Beneath the noise and decay, the Holy Spirit still moves quietly in hidden souls who live the Gospel without applause. The Divine Appeal is not a political call but a personal one—to become living reparation for a wounded world. The saints of our time may never stand on altars; they are mothers who pray in silence, priests who suffer faithfully, youth who choose purity over popularity, workers who labor honestly amid corruption. In every vocation, holiness becomes the world’s hidden resistance. These souls hold back greater collapse by their fidelity, just as Abraham’s plea once stayed divine wrath over Sodom (cf. Gen 18:32). The renewal of creation begins within the secret sanctuary of the human heart. There, grace rebuilds what sin has ruined. Each sincere confession becomes a living stone in God’s quiet reconstruction of the world; every forgiveness spoken breathes order into chaos; every unseen sacrifice ignites light within the Church’s hidden wounds. Divine Providence cannot be undone by human failure—for even in ruin, God conceives resurrection. Grace gathers what sin scatters, and through hearts surrendered in love, He reweaves the torn fabric of creation. The Church endures as the Ark of mercy upon the deluge of iniquity; her Eucharist, the living pulse that keeps the world from collapse. When souls adore in truth and hearts burn with undefiled love, redemption ripens in silence. History’s last word will not be humanity’s defiance but God’s mercy, for the Lamb who was slain shall stand—victorious through meekness, sovereign through sacrifice.
Prayer
Adorable Jesus, Savior of this sinful world, look with pity upon the earth we have defiled. Purify our hearts, renew our reverence, and restore our tears. Teach us again to tremble before love, to kneel before truth, and to live for You alone. May Your mercy outshine our corruption. Amen.
Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.
