This homily was given at a Vespers service at Corpus Christi church, in the hiatus between its final Mass as a parish at the end of November and its first Mass in January as a site of ministry to students and couples seeking marriage.
Reading: Luke 21:25-28, 34-36
“People will die of fright
in anticipation of what is coming
upon the world.”
These seem disturbingly timely words.
We’ve all got lots of things to worry about:
wars in which nuclear-armed nations are in play;
climate change and extreme weather;
a nation divided by politics and ideology,
and an incoming administration
that excites great hope in some
and great fear in others.
What is coming upon the world?
What does the future hold?
in anticipation of what is coming
upon the world.”
These seem disturbingly timely words.
We’ve all got lots of things to worry about:
wars in which nuclear-armed nations are in play;
climate change and extreme weather;
a nation divided by politics and ideology,
and an incoming administration
that excites great hope in some
and great fear in others.
What is coming upon the world?
What does the future hold?
But more locally, for us,
there is the question of
what the future holds for this place,
this house of God
that has been our house.
What is coming for Corpus Christi?
Can we build something here
that will draw upon
what has come before
but be open to new challenges
that the Church faces?
I will admit, I have a lot of trepidation.
In some ways we have been given
a go-ahead for our new ministries
with students and young couples
precisely because these are two groups
that no one quite knows what to do with.
And we don’t know either,
but we were foolish or desperate enough
to say “let us give it a try,”
and so the Archdiocese said,
“sure, let them try.”
there is the question of
what the future holds for this place,
this house of God
that has been our house.
What is coming for Corpus Christi?
Can we build something here
that will draw upon
what has come before
but be open to new challenges
that the Church faces?
I will admit, I have a lot of trepidation.
In some ways we have been given
a go-ahead for our new ministries
with students and young couples
precisely because these are two groups
that no one quite knows what to do with.
And we don’t know either,
but we were foolish or desperate enough
to say “let us give it a try,”
and so the Archdiocese said,
“sure, let them try.”
The prospects are daunting.
Religious disaffiliation
is common among the young
and there doesn’t seem to be
any magic formula for drawing them in.
Should we try updating things
or returning to the deep source of our tradition?
Do we make marriage preparation more user-friendly
or do we make it more demanding and rigorous?
Do we have meetings for students
on Tuesday nights or Wednesday nights;
do we feed them pizza or tacos?
I’ll tell you, I have not a few sleepless nights
churning these questions over in my mind.
As I've nodded off in the afternoon
after after a sleepless night,
I’ve come to know how literal Jesus was being
when he spoke of our hearts growing drowsy
with the anxieties of daily life.
when he spoke of our hearts growing drowsy
with the anxieties of daily life.
And I’ll be honest with you:
I have no idea if we can pull this off,
if we can build something new here
that will give this beautiful and storied place
the chance to feed generations to come
with the spiritual food of Christ’s body—
Corpus Christi.
I just don’t know.
But what I do know is that, in the end,
I have no idea if we can pull this off,
if we can build something new here
that will give this beautiful and storied place
the chance to feed generations to come
with the spiritual food of Christ’s body—
Corpus Christi.
I just don’t know.
But what I do know is that, in the end,
what happens does not depend on me or Andrew,
or even, though we cherish your support, any of you.
It depends on the never-failing providence of God.
There was a moment
on the twisting and turning path
that has led us to this moment
when I felt that I could see
how God’s providence was working.
I felt I could see a pattern
in how everything was coming together
out of seemingly unconnected events:
my three decades working with college students;
Andrew’s year spent shepherding this parish
and learning the mysteries
of sound systems and bank accounts;
my transfer from Corpus Christi to the Cathedral,
where, during the Covid-19 shutdown,
I served Mass with the Archbishop each week
and had an opportunity for him
to get to know me personally;
my last-minute decision to attend a deacons’ retreat
where I met Bishop Lewendowski,
who happened to be leading the retreat
and who was spearheading parish reorganization.
All of these things seemed to be coming together
to make it possible to get a hearing for this place
to continue as a site or worship and ministry.
So this, I thought, is what providence looks like.
or even, though we cherish your support, any of you.
It depends on the never-failing providence of God.
There was a moment
on the twisting and turning path
that has led us to this moment
when I felt that I could see
how God’s providence was working.
I felt I could see a pattern
in how everything was coming together
out of seemingly unconnected events:
my three decades working with college students;
Andrew’s year spent shepherding this parish
and learning the mysteries
of sound systems and bank accounts;
my transfer from Corpus Christi to the Cathedral,
where, during the Covid-19 shutdown,
I served Mass with the Archbishop each week
and had an opportunity for him
to get to know me personally;
my last-minute decision to attend a deacons’ retreat
where I met Bishop Lewendowski,
who happened to be leading the retreat
and who was spearheading parish reorganization.
All of these things seemed to be coming together
to make it possible to get a hearing for this place
to continue as a site or worship and ministry.
So this, I thought, is what providence looks like.
The next day Andrew and I got an email
saying that it had been determined
that the building was too expensive to maintain
and that Corpus Christi would be
put on the market and sold as soon as possible.
When I recovered my senses—
which took a minute—
I somehow had the grace to think,
“Ah, I guess this, too,
is what providence looks like.”
We’ve gone through several more
twists and turns since then,
and sale of the building is not imminent,
though it is still a possible future.
But what I learned in that moment
is that none of us knows
how God’s providence works
or what the future holds,
but at every moment we must ask
for the grace to say,
“this, too, is what providence looks like.”
And now what lies before us—
before all of us—
is the work God has given us to do.
We who have loved this place
must trust that whatever happens
God will be at work
in us and through us,
as long as we can get out of the way
and let providence have its way.
So let us labor in hope,
and pray in this season of hope
that God who is merciful
will have mercy on us all.
saying that it had been determined
that the building was too expensive to maintain
and that Corpus Christi would be
put on the market and sold as soon as possible.
When I recovered my senses—
which took a minute—
I somehow had the grace to think,
“Ah, I guess this, too,
is what providence looks like.”
We’ve gone through several more
twists and turns since then,
and sale of the building is not imminent,
though it is still a possible future.
But what I learned in that moment
is that none of us knows
how God’s providence works
or what the future holds,
but at every moment we must ask
for the grace to say,
“this, too, is what providence looks like.”
And now what lies before us—
before all of us—
is the work God has given us to do.
We who have loved this place
must trust that whatever happens
God will be at work
in us and through us,
as long as we can get out of the way
and let providence have its way.
So let us labor in hope,
and pray in this season of hope
that God who is merciful
will have mercy on us all.
