When you walk into a truly beautiful church – sunlight streaming through stained glass, candles flickering, music soft in the background – you can feel the decades of prayer soaked into the walls. You sense that this is holy ground.
That is what the Lateran Basilica in Rome represents – the “Mother Church” of all churches, the cathedral of the Pope. It is the oldest of the great basilica, standing for more than 1,700 years. Empires have fallen, popes have come and gone. This basilica remains, not as a museum of marble and mosaics, but as a symbol of a Church that endures – because Christ endures. But this feast is not really about a building. It is about what the building points to – the living Church, made not of stone, but of people. You and me.
In today’s gospel, Jesus enters the Temple in Jerusalem. He sees the merchants and money changers turning sacred space into a market, and He acts decisively – driving them out, overturning tables, scattering coins across the floor. At first glance, it seems like anger. But this is not a temper tantrum; it is a moment of holy passion. Jesus is consumed with zeal for His Father’s house. He is doing what prophets always do – calling people back to the heart of worship. He is saying, “You have let clutter into your temple – distractions, noise, business – and you have forgotten why you are here.”
And then Jesus says something startling: “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” He was not talking about the building, but about the temple of His body. In Christ, the presence of God dwells, fully. From now on, true worship will not be tied to a place but to a person – Jesus Christ Himself.
That shift – from building to body, from maintenance to mission – is exactly what Fr. James Mallon talks about in his book Divine Renovation. This book or vision of Church is being used by dioceses and parishes throughout the world. Three years ago, the Parish Council at St. Agnes embraced the message of Divine Renovation. Fr. Mallon says too many parishes have become caretakers of temples instead of proclaimers of resurrection. We spend too much energy keeping the lights on, the floors polished, and the schedules filled that we could forget the deeper question: Are we helping people encounter the living Christ? Fr. Mallon writes, “The Church exists not to maintain buildings, but to make disciples.” That is the heart of Divine Renovation – allowing the Holy Spirit to do in us what Jesus did in that Temple: overturn what is lifeless, sweep away what is stale, and make room for new life. And the Alpha experience is key to this renewal! Alpha invites you to ponder the very meaning of your life. It affirms you as a beloved child of God and gives you a vision to live life to the full.
There is a story I love about a cathedral in Europe that was damaged during World War II. The roof collapsed, windows shattered, statues destroyed. Among the ruins was a statue of Christ – but the hands had been blown off. When the parishioners began to rebuild, someone suggested they repair the statue too. But the pastor said, “No. Leave it as it is – without hands. And place a sign beneath it that says, “Christ has no hands now but yours.”
That is what day’s feast reminds us: we are the living Church. Christ’s presence in the world depends on our willingness to be His hands, His heart, His mercy.
And yet, to be honest, renovation can be messy. Anyone who has ever remodeled a house knows that before it is beautiful, it is dusty, noisy, and uncomfortable. You find things you did not know were broken. You have to make tough decisions about what stays and what goes.
That is what spiritual renovation feels like too. Jesus sometimes has to step into the temple of our hearts and overturn a few tables – our comfort zones, our old habits, our fear of change – not to punish us, but to set us free.
When the Church lets Chris t do that, incredible things happen. Fr. Mallon tells us of parishes that moved from survival to mission – where people stopped seeing themselves as consumers of religion and became disciples on fire for the Gospel. Worship became alive again, outreach to the needy exploded, adoration of the Eucharist deepened, people and families reconnected, and joy returned. That is what it means to dedicate a church – not in history, but in every single day to let Christ claim His temple anew.
So perhaps today the Lord is standing at the doorway of our hearts, asking “Will you let Me renovate this temple?” “Will you let Me make My church new again – beginning with you?”
The Lateran Basilica in Rome may be ancient stone, but the real Church is alive and breathing right here, in this community, in this Eucharist, in you. And maybe, when Jesus walks into our lives, He will find not a marketplace of distraction, but a heart ready to be His dwelling place. Because the Church of Christ is not built from marble and gold – it is built from ordinary people who let the Holy Spirt do extraordinary things. And that brothers and sisters, is the divine renovation that never ends.