The Spawn of Hate

The Spawn of Hate

Some mornings I hesitate before opening my news apps or scrolling social media, because I know what’s waiting there. It isn’t just politics, crime, or the normal messiness of the world. It’s hate—raw, unashamed, and louder than it used to be. It’s sickening to read, sickening to see shared like it’s a badge of honor, and even sicker to watch it lived out in our communities.

What cuts deepest is when hate hides behind a cross. Too often, I see Scripture ripped from its context and weaponized to wound. The Bible—meant to reveal a God who is love—is twisted into an excuse for cruelty. Verses that should call us to mercy become rallying cries for division. When Jesus walked the earth, He had sharp words for religious leaders who piled burdens on others while ignoring their own hearts: “Woe to you, teachers of the law… you shut the door of the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces.” He wasn’t angry at sinners on the street; He was angry at those who used God’s name to crush people.

And now, in this age of instant sharing, what we post has power—more than we admit. Every photo, meme, or comment is a choice: it can spread love or it can spread hate. Lately, hate seems to draw people in faster. A mocking meme gets more likes than a thoughtful reflection. A rumor shared in anger travels farther than a truth shared in love. False information—half-truths, distortions, outright lies—spreads like wildfire, leaving real people burned in its path. By the time facts catch up, the damage is already done.

I’m tired of it. School violence. Shootings. Murders. War. Hate. Discrimination. I am emotionally spent and depleted. Some days, the sadness from what I read, the memes I see, and the careless sharing of messages is overwhelming. What are we doing to one another? Who are we to judge?

And I’ll be honest: I am scared sometimes to be my authentic self because I know people judge, trash, and even provoke violence. I recognize that GOD did not make a mistake with me when He created me. But people—over and over again—have proven they can judge, condemn, and incite violence against someone simply for existing. That’s not just heartbreaking—it’s terrifying. Love is love. No excuses. No room for hate.

Going to Mass, sitting in a pew on Sunday, or reading the Bible every day doesn’t erase hatred when, the moment you leave the church or put down the Bible, you spread cruelty or contempt. Faith is all or nothing—it’s not a negotiation. You can’t worship on Sunday and wound on Monday. Think about who Jesus spent His time with: tax collectors, lepers, Samaritans, the rejected, the broken, the ones polite society avoided. He crossed every line we draw. He loved the people the world despised. Think about it.

Social media has become a stage for our worst instincts. The algorithms know that outrage keeps us scrolling. They know division drives engagement. But behind every profile picture is a soul. Behind every “enemy” is a person who bleeds, grieves, and hopes just like we do. We can’t keep treating one another like disposable avatars.

The world has always wrestled with division, but the speed and reach of today’s technology have turned our differences into spectacle. We’re conditioned to think in tribes: red vs. blue, believer vs. skeptic, rural vs. urban. Christ didn’t come to create rival camps—He came to tear down walls. Paul wrote that in Christ there is neither Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free. Our labels and hierarchies crumble when measured against the cross.

This doesn’t mean we’re passive in the face of injustice. Real love isn’t timid—it confronts wrong. But confronting wrong is not the same as spreading hate. You can stand for truth without dehumanizing the person who disagrees. Jesus spoke truth to power but also healed the ear of a man sent to arrest Him. He forgave the soldiers who nailed Him to the cross. If we claim to follow Him, we must wrestle with what that looks like when anger feels easier.

I’ve watched too many people walk away from faith because the loudest Christians they meet are the angriest. I’ve seen young people lose trust in the church because believers defended power and pride rather than the vulnerable. When we use the Bible as a club, we drive people away from the grace we claim to preach.

So what do we do? First, we check our own hearts and our own feeds. Ask yourself: Am I sharing this to build understanding or to score points? Am I quoting Scripture to invite or to shame? Am I listening more than I’m shouting? Even small acts—a pause before posting, a decision to fact-check before sharing, a choice to reach out privately instead of humiliating someone publicly—can break the cycle.

Hate is contagious, but so is kindness. Division spreads quickly, but so does grace. If enough of us choose mercy over mockery, the tide can shift—seed by seed, heart by heart. Let’s be known not for the walls we build but for the bridges we cross. Let’s hold fast to truth without surrendering compassion. Let’s refuse to let algorithms dictate our character. And when the world grows darker, let’s be stubborn enough to light a candle anyway.

The spawn of hate thrives when good people grow silent or cynical. I’m exhausted, but I’m not giving it the last word. The Gospel calls us to something braver: to love when it’s hardest, to forgive when it feels impossible, to live with integrity in a world addicted to outrage, and to stand firm without becoming what we oppose.

So tonight, before you hit “share,” before you post that meme, before you judge a stranger—pause. Ask yourself: Will this plant a seed of love or a seed of hate? Will it heal, or will it harm?

The world doesn’t need more noise. It needs more light. Be the one who carries it.

—Dr. Nick