HOMILY
Corpus Christi Sunday – June 2, 2024
Closing Mass of Saint Michael Church, Simpson
120 years ago, Saint Michael’s Parish was founded to serve a growing community of predominantly Polish immigrants who journeyed to this portion of God’s kingdom to build a better life for themselves and for their families. My dad’s grandparents, Jacob and Antoinette Pilny, were among its founding members. … Ten years after it was established, my mom’s parents, John and Blanche Kucharski arrived in Whites Crossing after immigrating from Poland a few years earlier and joined Saint Michael’s Parish. … My mom’s father died 72 years ago this very day and was buried from this church. … And in 1923, my dad’s uncle, Monsignor Joseph Pilny, a native of Simpson, was ordained a priest – the first from Saint Michael’s Parish – and celebrated his first Mass in this very church on May 27, 1923 – 101 years ago, this past Monday. The chalice that I will use at today’s Mass belonged to him.
These are notable markers in my family’s life related to this sacred house of worship, among many others, from weddings to funerals to parish picnics and dinners. I share these memories with you not because this day is in any way about me and my family. I share them because my memories and those of my family are very much like yours: consoling memories, painful and joyful memories that all speak to both the grief and the hope that reside in our hearts as we gather this day to worship and pray in this beloved church.
So let your minds wander a bit today – even during this homily! It’s a good thing to do – a healing experience for all of us – a moment to remember our lives in relationship to Saint Michael’s Church. … Perhaps you’re now sitting in a certain pew that you’ve occupied for your entire life. Maybe you were married in this church or sang in the choir. I know some of you brought loved ones here for Christian burial. And all of us are likely holding a myriad of recollections in our hearts and minds, from First Communions to Confirmations, Sunday School, May crownings, the blessing of Easter baskets, parish picnics and countless other events, traditions and experiences.
I think it’s interesting that for all of the memories that we are experiencing today, when we recall events that have taken place in our lives in relationship to Saint Michael’s, we are more likely to recall certain people than merely a place – perhaps a priest, a relative or a friend. And no matter the nature of our recollection, at the heart of most of these events and gatherings are to be found the deepest mysteries of our faith and the Eucharist itself.
Our late Holy Father, Saint John Paul II shared these words that speak powerfully to us today. “The parish is not principally a structure, a territory or a building, but rather ‘the family of God, a fellowship afire with a unifying spirit,’ ‘a familial and welcoming home,’ the ‘community of the faithful.’” The Holy Father went on to say that “the parish is a community properly suited for celebrating the Eucharist … the place where the very ‘mystery’ of the Church is present and at work.”
Suddenly when we hear those lofty words of Saint John Paul and realize that at the heart of the memories rushing into our thoughts today is nothing less than the mystery of the Church and the power and presence of God, this day reminds us of much, much more than merely a building, no matter how noble it may be.
Providentially, we gather for this Mass on Corpus Christi Sunday, in which we focus on the blessings of the Eucharist – the source and summit of our lives as Christians. Today’s familiar gospel passage is taken from Saint Mark’s account of the Last Supper during which Jesus instituted the Holy Eucharist, the sacrament of his body and blood, that continues to be celebrated in churches like Saint Michael’s throughout our world even to this day.
But our coming to the table of the Eucharist is meant to be much more than just reliving a memory of Christ’s great sacrifice for our redemption. In sharing his body and blood, we experience both a gift and a responsibility: we enter into the life of God – we’re promised eternal life – we are sustained for our journey of faith by the enduring presence of Christ – and we are called by Christ to become signs of hope, mercy and love to one another.
Saint Augustine said it best. “If you have received worthily, you become what you have received.” In sharing the body of Christ, we not only become members of his body but must be willing to become Eucharist for others – to make the love of Christ given to us real for all.
And so, this day is not only a day of remembrance but a day of gratitude. Gratitude first for the abiding presence of God within us – a presence that reminds us not that we have been noble enough to warrant God’s love – but rather, that God has loved us first, as we are. … Gratitude for the bond that exists among us as sharers in the one body of Christ. … And gratitude for the privilege of being chosen by God to be his presence in our world – not because we are perfect – but because in God’s wisdom and plan, he has chosen us as his instruments of grace and love.
I hope we appreciate what all of this means. Through the Eucharist, we become a part of the body of Christ. That means that right now, we are brothers and sisters in Christ. We are bound together through the Eucharist that we share – whether our roots are in Saint Michael’s, Our Lady of Mount Carmel or Saint Rose. And we are also bound to all who have gone before us in faith – from the coalminers and immigrants who founded this church, to our mothers and fathers, grandparents and great-grandparents. But remember, we are bound together not because of a building – as cherished as it may be – but because of the Eucharist that we celebrate and the words of faith that we proclaim: “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.”
And because of your faith and union one with another, look at what you have done for almost 120 years. You have shared your faith in Jesus Christ. You have celebrated life and called one another to a profound respect for that sublime gift. You have welcomed immigrants and strangers and given them reason to hope. You have fed families and clothed the poor. You have healed bodies and spirits, consoled, buried and converted hearts to the Lord. You have done Christ’s work – a work that must continue to be embraced by all of us who claim his name as our own.
Finally, while remembrance and gratitude well up within our hearts, this day is also a day of hope. Change is never easy and the loss of a treasured house of worship is particularly painful for all who have experienced the consolation of our faith within the walls of this treasured church. Yet, the reality of life is such that as long as we live and breathe, change will always be a part of our experience.
In reflecting upon the origins of this church, it occurred to me that change was the very thing that precipitated its very beginnings. If my great-grandparents and yours were unwilling to change in response to the circumstances of their lives in Poland over a century ago, they would have never ventured to this land. Of course they would shed tears with all of us at the thoughts of closing this cherished house of worship. But they taught us that despite the heartaches and losses that they endured – and they were many – life goes on. For them, the most important legacy to pass from one generation to the next was not made of bricks and mortar but of flesh and blood in which faith resides. It is faith that sustains us, and it is the faith that was nurtured in this community that becomes the greatest gift that you bring to Our Lady of the Rosary Parish.
Helen Keller, the great American author and advocate for those with disabilities often remarked, “When one door of happiness closes another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.” We close a door today on a chapter of our lives filled with cherished memories. May we allow those memories to shape our future and build a new legacy of faith and hope.
Just a few weeks ago on Ascension Thursday, Pope Francis proclaimed the upcoming year of 2025 as a Jubilee Year of Hope. “Everyone knows what it is to hope,” he said. “In the heart of each person, hope dwells as the desire and expectation of good things to come, despite our not knowing what the future may bring. … But Christian hope does not deceive or disappoint because it is grounded in the certainty that nothing and no one may ever separate us from God’s love.”
My friends, we gather in prayer to celebrate the Eucharist, the power and presence of God that is the heart of our faith. We also gather to remember a beloved house of worship and a people who have lived the faith of Jesus Christ within it for 120 years. May our memories this day be filled with gratitude and hope: gratitude for all that has been and hope for what will be through the grace and goodness of God.