Preaching Love and Peace, Leading Souls to Perdition

Divine Appeal Reflection - 179

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 179:  "What a pain! In My Church many... have been transformed into veritable incarnate demons. While they preach love and peace they labour hard leading souls to perdition.”

The words “What a pain!” reveal a wound in Divine Love that reaches beyond ordinary human wrongdoing. The sorrow is that what was intended to become a channel of grace can become an obstruction to grace. A person may speak about Christ while quietly making Christ more difficult for another soul to encounter. This is the mystery of spiritual contradiction: the mouth retains Christian language while the interior direction has changed. Judas remained close to Jesus while secretly allowing another love to occupy his heart (cf. Jn 12:4–6; 13:21–30). Peter confessed Christ yet, for a moment, resisted the Cross and became an obstacle to the divine plan (cf. Mt 16:16–23). Ananias and Sapphira entered the Christian community while allowing the desire to appear generous to become more important than truth (cf. Acts 5:1–11). Something similar can happen quietly today. A Catholic may kneel reverently at Mass and then spend the journey home destroying another person's reputation. A person may lead the Rosary in a parish group while deliberately excluding a struggling member from fellowship. A parent may faithfully bring children to Mass yet speak to them with such harshness that sacred things become associated with fear rather than love . A respected Christian may defend chastity publicly while quietly tolerating a friend’s sinful relationship, choosing silence because truthful correction feels uncomfortable . A parish worker may welcome wealthy people warmly while treating the poor as interruptions. These contradictions become spiritually dangerous because another soul is learning Christianity through our behaviour. The Church (cf. CCC 823–829) is holy because Christ is holy, yet her members remain capable of grave sin . The question therefore becomes intensely personal: When somebody encounters my Christianity, do they encounter merely religious behaviour, or do they encounter a life increasingly transformed by Christ? The hidden sanctuary of the heart must become the first place where our preaching is true.

The words “while they preach love and peace” expose the possibility of a counterfeit Christianity that sounds beautiful but quietly damages souls. Love without truth can become permission; peace without justice can become silence; mercy without conversion can become indulgence; tolerance without discernment can become abandonment of the person to whatever is destroying him. The prophets confronted religious environments in which worship continued while justice and conversion were neglected (cf. Isa 1:11–17; Jer 7:8–11). Jesus (cf. Mt 23:23–28) similarly warned against religious appearances that concealed interior corruption . Consider a unique practical case: a young person confides that he is trapped in an addiction, and instead of helping him seek confession, professional assistance where appropriate, accountability and a disciplined life, a friend tells him, “God understands; don't be too hard on yourself.” The words sound merciful but may leave the person imprisoned. Someone may realize that a relative is being financially abused yet remain silent to preserve family harmony, while another witnesses a colleague being mistreated and says nothing to avoid confrontation or personal discomfort . Another repeatedly tells a suffering spouse, “Just endure; that is your cross,” when the person actually needs protection, truthful counsel and appropriate help. False peace can become cruelty wearing a gentle face. Authentic Christian mercy does not merely remove discomfort;(cf. Lk 10:30–37) it seeks the person's genuine good . The Good Samaritan did not offer the wounded man encouraging words and walk away. He interrupted his journey, approached the wound, used what he possessed, arranged continued care and accepted personal cost. Likewise, Christian love must become concrete. Sometimes love listens. Sometimes it forgives. Sometimes it confronts. Sometimes it sets a boundary. Sometimes it reports wrongdoing. Sometimes it accompanies someone to confession. Sometimes it quietly removes a temptation from the home. Sometimes it refuses to participate in gossip. Sometimes it says, with tenderness and courage, “What is happening to you is not good, and I will help you seek a better way.” Such love is neither harsh nor permissive; it is love ordered toward salvation (cf. CCC 1822–1829).

The words “they labour hard leading souls to perdition” reveal the terrifying power of influence. A person can spread spiritual damage without ever standing behind a pulpit. Jeroboam established practices that drew an entire people into religious compromise (cf. 1 Kgs 12:26–33). Balaam became associated with a pathway by which others were induced toward compromise and idolatry (cf. Num 31:16; Rev 2:14). Eli's failure to restrain the corruption of his sons allowed sacred ministry itself to become despised (cf. 1 Sam 2:12–17, 22–25). Today influence can be almost invisible. Influence often works beneath the level of words. A life that repeatedly excuses deceit, belittles fidelity, circulates suspicion, or celebrates those who flatter can gradually reshape another person’s conscience until darkness begins to appear reasonable (cf. Isa 5:20; Rom 12:2; Eph 4:17–19). St. John Chrysostom recognized that Christian witness is never isolated; one person’s conduct can strengthen or weaken the moral life of an entire community . Yet grace can travel through the same hidden channels: a truthful choice, a resisted piece of gossip, a gentle correction, or an unnoticed kindness may awaken goodness in another heart . St. Philip Neri revealed this apostolate of joyful holiness, drawing wounded souls toward Christ through humility, patience, friendship, and ordinary fidelity .The Christian therefore never knows how far a hidden act of fidelity may travel. A life faithfully lived can preach without a pulpit, correct without humiliation, and evangelize without publicity (cf. 1 Pet 3:15–16). Every repeated behaviour becomes a lesson to somebody. The Catechism warns about scandal because influence can become an occasion for another person's wrongdoing (cf. CCC 2284–2287). Therefore a Christian should ask not merely, “Is this permitted for me?” but the more apostolic question: “What does my example make easier for another person?” 

There is also a hidden form of spiritual corruption in which the person does not intentionally decide to harm souls but gradually becomes attached to being important to souls. This is particularly dangerous in ministry. A catechist may become irritated when people begin asking questions independently. A prayer leader may feel threatened when another person receives recognition. A priest may gradually become more comfortable with parishioners who affirm him, while becoming defensive or impatient when others offer respectful correction or raise difficult questions . A religious superior may confuse obedience with personal control. A parent may call possessiveness “protection.” A spiritual adviser may make a struggling person unnecessarily dependent upon his personal approval instead of teaching that person's conscience to rest securely in Christ and the Church. These are subtle forms of spiritual ownership. The soul begins by serving another person and eventually wants to possess the place that God alone should occupy in that person's heart. Saul provides a penetrating example: his concern for maintaining honour before the people became entangled with his obedience to God (cf. 1 Sam 15:20–24). Diotrephes desired prominence among the Christian community and consequently acted destructively toward others (cf. 3 Jn 9–10). Even the disciples themselves (cf. Mk 9:33–37) once argued about greatness while physically accompanying Jesus . The practical antidote is radical hiddenness. Do something good that nobody can attribute to you. Allow another person to receive credit. Teach someone to function without your constant supervision. When giving advice, point the person toward Christ rather than toward dependence upon yourself. When correcting someone, correct privately whenever possible rather than enjoying public superiority. When someone entrusted to your guidance chooses another path, do not immediately read it as disloyalty.  When honour is given, quietly direct the heart toward God rather than feeding personal glory. Before exercising authority, examine its deepest motive: am I seeking the person’s good, or safeguarding my own importance? Before giving counsel, ask whether I could genuinely rejoice if that soul eventually needed my guidance less because it had become more firmly anchored in Christ (cf. Jn 3:30; 1 Cor 3:5–7). The Catechism teaches that the moral value of an act involves its object, intention, and circumstances (cf. CCC 1750–1756). The purified servant discovers that another soul’s increasing dependence upon Christ is not a loss of influence, but the fulfillment of his service (cf. 2 Cor 4:5; 1 Thess 2:8).

The Eucharist reveals the complete opposite of this corrupted influence. Christ does not possess souls by diminishing them; He gives Himself so that they may live. He possesses divine authority and yet chooses the humility of sacramental hiddenness. He could compel the human will, yet He waits for free love. He could overwhelm humanity with glory, yet He comes beneath humble appearances (cf. Jn 6:51–58; CCC 1324–1327). This Eucharistic mystery gives practical instructions for every vocation. After Mass, the priest can ask whether his preaching drew souls toward Christ or toward admiration of himself. The parent can examine whether children obey from fear or are learning to love goodness. The teacher can ask whether students depend upon approval or are becoming lovers of truth. The spouse can discern whether love gives freedom for holiness or quietly becomes control (cf. Jn 3:30; Gal 5:13). Blessed Maria Gabriella Sagheddu’s hidden offering reveals a profound principle: genuine self-gift does not need to remain visible;(cf. Jn 12:24) it disappears into the good God desires for another soul . Those who guide others must ask whether they could rejoice if God’s work flourished while their own name became less remembered. St. Charles de Foucauld discovered the apostolate of hiddenness: belonging completely to Jesus without needing importance before others (cf. Phil 2:3–5). Friendship carries the same responsibility. A young person should ask whether his presence makes prayer easier or indifference easier, purity stronger or compromise more attractive (cf. 1 Cor 15:33). Even hidden suffering can become apostolate. The elderly can transform weakness into intercession; the sick can offer painful days for souls; the unemployed can preserve integrity amid financial pressure; and those wounded within the Church can refuse to pass their wounds to others (cf. Col 1:24; Rom 12:21). St. Thérèse of Lisieux shows how apparently insignificant acts of love can become fruitful beyond what the soul can see . Before the Blessed Sacrament, Our Adorable Jesus teaches the deepest pattern: receive, surrender, give, and do not make yourself the centre. The Eucharistic Christ does not draw attention to Himself as earthly power does; He remains hidden, offered, and available for the life of souls . The Christian therefore becomes less a sign pointing toward self and more like clear glass through which another person can glimpse Christ .The Divine Appeal  therefore becomes a piercing examination: Does my presence make Christ more believable? Does my correction lead toward healing? Does my authority create freedom for holiness? Does my speech protect dignity? Does my silence protect peace—or wrongdoing? (cf. Eph 4:29; Gal 6:1–2). A soul can become either a wall that obscures Christ or a doorway through which another encounters Him. May Our Adorable Jesus make our lives doorways from confusion toward truth, from sin toward repentance, from loneliness toward communion, and from fear toward the freedom of divine love .

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, enter the hidden sanctuary of our hearts and purify every intention that is not love. May we never become obstacles to souls seeking You. Make our words truthful, our authority humble, our correction merciful, and our lives transparent pathways toward Your Heart. Let no soul be lost through our example. Amen.

Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.