I am weary of watching the sacred mantle of the Prince of Peace being auctioned off to the highest bidder of hatred and the most hollow of men who trade the Gospel for the gears of a war machine. When we hear the boastful drums of "no mercy" and the celebration of death raining down from the heavens, we are witnessing a spiritual bankruptcy that has replaced the radiant light of the Beatitudes with the cold, dark shadow of a cruise missile. As a neighbor from the North, I must declare that there is no room in the Kingdom of God for an ideology that crowns a mortal politician with a divine mandate while his feet are firmly planted in the soil of division and his heart is hardened against the merciful. If your sanctuary has become a hollow chamber for the glorification of violence in the name of a man made of clay rather than the God of Love, then you have abandoned the mountain top for the valley of despair. We cannot allow the loud, clanging cymbals of modern-day Caesars like Trump and Hegseth to drown out the quiet, revolutionary whisper of the peacemakers, for a faith that seeks the apocalypse through the blood of others is not a faith at all, but a tragic and dangerous delusion.
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