Thirty-Third Sunday of Ordinary Time
November 14, 2004


If the Newman Center/your parish were to be destroyed by a bomb or consolidated or closed with another, would it make a difference?

These are difficult days to be a Catholic in the Archdiocese of St. Louis. (Or an archbishop or priest for that matter.) Perhaps there are many reasons that people feel that. What I am aware of from conversations with students at the Newman Center and friends from around the diocese is the prospect of closing and merging parishes. People are attached to their parishes/Newman Centers. They have invested time, talent and treasure for years to a particular school and church building, as well as to the community that surrounds those structures. The prospect of their parish being gone, of not having ‘their pew’, ‘their side of the church’, ‘their soccer field’ to go to is difficult. It is an “end of the world” kind of experience.

Most of you, in this small Catholic world of the Archdiocese, know of people who are right in the middle of that closing process. It is a gut wrenching experience. For better or worse, we Catholics have a tendency to equate the coming Kingdom of God with our particular parish experience. Parish is what we know and what we wrap our lives around. And when that is threatened, when our parish changes because of mergers, it is such a difficult experience. Though we know that life will go on, it is a hard letting go, a hard transition.

Jesus speaks to that experience in reflecting on the temple. “The days will come when not a stone will be left on a stone.” What you know about God, how you have worshiped, the place, the community, all the outward, visible signs of your faith will be stripped away. Add to that persecutions, betrayals, and environmental catastrophe’s – and you have a difficult teaching, not just for his disciples, but also for us.

The temple of Herod, which Jesus predicts will be destroyed, was one of the eight wonders of the world in its day. It was a bedrock of Jewish faith, a source of national pride and a symbol of their belief in God. It sat on 37 acres of ground, and was made of white stone layered with gold plates. And Jesus was telling them it didn’t matter. He was telling them that its destruction was not even the worse thing they would face. He was warning them about where you place your identity and where you draw your security and comfort.

Now, I am very proud to be a member of St. Ann parish and this Newman Center. I love being in both places. And am so grateful to God to be assigned here – there is so much good, so much hope, so much promise here. But what the gospel warns me about today is profound. As important as my identity is as a member of the Newman Center and St. Ann, that identity will not be my salvation. Nor will being involved in Amnesty International or APO or doing Hunger Awareness Programs or RCIA be my salvation. “Many will come in my name” –do not be misled. It is only my relationship to Jesus (within the church) that will be my salvation. All those things are good, but guess what folks? They won’t last. Only by perseverance will we secure our lives. Only by prayer, only by participating in the Eucharist, only by lives that are lived FOR Jesus and IN Jesus will we be saved.

(Look around the chapel) I love this building. I love the community that gathers here for prayer, fellowship and ministry. But a day will come, when none of this will be left. Hopefully that day is long in the future. But even if it is not, I pray that what will be left is the only thing that matters. I pray that this place produces people of faith who have met Jesus and pledged their lives to him. People who have learned the ‘perseverance needed to secure our lives’.