Stuff happens: which is hardly an original thought.
Sometimes we could have avoided whatever happened.
Sometimes: like I said, stuff happens. And would have happened no matter what we did. How we react to what happens, that’s something we can control.
Not the knee-jerk emotional impulses, but how we decide to deal with whatever we’re feeling.
I’ve been meaning to talk about that for some time, but hadn’t gotten around to it.
Then the priest who was scheduled for our parish got sick, and asked a deacon to fill in. He’s feeling better, by the way. The priest, not the deacon. Anyway, Deacon Tim Pribula talked about worry, Jesus, and related topics last Sunday.
A tip of the hat to Deacon Tim Pribula, for providing the text of that homily. I gather that it’s originally from Father Larry Young. Our deacon had very short notice that he’d be handling last Sunday’s mass, and that’s another topic or two.
One more thing before I get to that homily. Sunday’s first reading was a story in Isaiah. Make that two more things.
Stories About Vineyards
“Now let me sing of my friend,
my beloved’s song about his vineyard.
My friend had a vineyard
on a fertile hillside;
He spaded it, cleared it of stones,
and planted the choicest vines;
Within it he built a watchtower,
and hewed out a wine press.
Then he waited for the crop of grapes,
but it yielded rotten grapes.
Now, inhabitants of Jerusalem, people of Judah,
judge between me and my vineyard:
What more could be done for my vineyard
that I did not do?
Why, when I waited for the crop of grapes,
did it yield rotten grapes?
Now, I will let you know
what I am going to do to my vineyard:
Take away its hedge, give it to grazing,
break through its wall, let it be trampled!
Yes, I will make it a ruin:
it shall not be pruned or hoed,
but will be overgrown with thorns and briers;
I will command the clouds
not to rain upon it.
The vineyard of the LORD of hosts is the house of Israel,
the people of Judah, his cherished plant;
He waited for judgment, but see, bloodshed!
for justice, but hark, the outcry!”
(Isaiah 5:1–7)
Jesus re-told that story in what we call The Parable of the Tenants:
“Hear another parable. There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a hedge around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a tower. Then he leased it to tenants and went on a journey.
When vintage time drew near, he sent his servants to the tenants to obtain his produce.
But the tenants seized the servants and one they beat, another they killed, and a third they stoned.
Again he sent other servants, more numerous than the first ones, but they treated them in the same way.
Finally, he sent his son to them, thinking, ‘They will respect my son.’
But when the tenants saw the son, they said to one another, ‘This is the heir. Come, let us kill him and acquire his inheritance.’
They seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him.
What will the owner of the vineyard do to those tenants when he comes?”
They answered him, “He will put those wretched men to a wretched death and lease his vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the proper times.”
Jesus said to them, “Did you never read in the scriptures:
‘The stone that the builders rejected
has become the cornerstone;
by the Lord has this been done,
and it is wonderful in our eyes’?
Therefore, I say to you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that will produce its fruit.”
(Matthew 21:33–43)
Now, finally, that homily.
The Peace I Cannot Solve
Fr. Larry Young (youtube.com/@fr.larryyoung4222)
I. The Question I Keep Asking
Saint Paul says something today that I struggle with:
“Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6–9).
When I hear that, I think: Peace. What peace?
I am, by nature, a problem solver. When something goes wrong, my mind starts asking: What happened? What do I do now? How do I fix it? (My wife really appreciates that! 🙂 [Deacon Tim Pribula’s remark (Sunday, October 4, 2026)])
And maybe that’s why this line from Saint Paul is so difficult for me:
I keep trying to understand peace as if it were another problem to solve (Proverbs 3:5–6).
Maybe I expect peace to mean that the trouble is gone and the answer is clear (John 16:33).
Do I even know what peace feels like? (John 14:27)
II. The Trouble Still in Front of Us
Maybe some of you know that question, too. More than a few of us come to church carrying something that has not gone away: a worry about our family, a diagnosis, a loss, a difficult decision, a problem at work, or a fear about what comes next.
Jesus tells his disciples, “Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid” (John 14:27). “Do not be afraid” (Mark 5:36). But when the trouble is still right in front of us: How am I supposed to do that?
We shouldn’t pretend our troubles aren’t real. And we shouldn’t hear Saint Paul’s words as a rebuke, as if having anxiety means we have failed. Saint Paul does not say that Christians never worry.
He tells us what to do with what we carry: bring it to God.
III. Bring Everything to God
St. Paul says to make our requests known to God. Bring the worry.
Bring the question you cannot answer.
Bring the problem you have been trying to solve all week.
And bring it “with thanksgiving.” That does not mean thanking God for the hardship or pretending we are okay. It means that while we tell God honestly what hurts us, we also try to notice the goodness that surrounds us.
We don’t have to call the whole day good to thank God for one good thing in it (1 Thessalonians 5:18; Psalm 103:2).
Saint Paul is telling us to pray—to bring all of it directly to God. Prayer may not make the trouble disappear. It may not give us an answer right away.
But it turns us toward the One who is with us in the middle of it (1 Peter 5:7).
IV. A Peace We Do Not Have to Solve
Jesus says, “I have told you this so that you might have peace in me. In the world you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world” (John 16:33).
That peace does not mean the trouble is small or already over. It means the trouble does not have to be the end of our story. Sometimes, months or years later, we look back and realize that what felt like the end of the world was not the end of our lives. The problem mattered, but it was not the whole story.
Maybe that is the peace that surpasses all understanding: a real trouble, an answer we still don’t have, and yet a small calm beginning to grow inside because we trust that God is with us. The situation may still be unresolved, but it does not define everything that can happen next.
Today’s psalm gives voice to someone who sees that something is broken and asks God to care for it. It speaks of a vineyard whose walls have been torn down, and it pleads: “Take care of this vine” and “Restore us, O Lord” (Psalm 80:15, 20). The psalm does not offer an explanation or pretend everything is fine. It asks God to look down, see what has happened, and care for the people who are still waiting for help.
The Gospel also brings us to a vineyard. Jesus speaks of the fruit the owner hopes to receive from it (Matthew 21:43). Perhaps some of that fruit is already growing in the ordinary things we do, even when we are worried.
It may be getting up and making breakfast after a restless night.
It may be sitting with someone at an appointment.
It may be calling a person who might be lonely.
It may be listening when we’re tired.
It may be saying, “I’m sorry.”
It may be choosing a patient word—or holding back an angry reply.
It may be helping a neighbor.
It may be showing up again for the people who depend on us.
Those things may seem small. But they are good fruit.
And sometimes doing the next loving thing,
while the problem is still there, is one way God’s peace takes root in us.
V. A Prayer for Peace
One of the saints I have always admired and looked to for inspiration, St. Padre Pio, once said:
“Pray, hope, and don’t worry.
Worry is useless.
God is merciful and will hear your prayer.”
[St. Padre Pio correspondence (ca. 1922), translated from Italian]
And so, let us pray together. Close your eyes and just listen to this prayer.
Bring one worry to mind—the one thing that feels heavy or unresolved.
You don’t have to push it away. Just hold it before God for a moment.
Lord, I am struggling.
I am worried about what I cannot fix.
Teach me to trust that you are with me,
even while my trouble is still here.
Calm my heart.
Help me recognize your peace:
in someone who cares for me,
in my pet’s welcome when I come through the door,
in the warmth of the sun on a new day you have given me,
and in one small thing I am able to finish today.
When my worries return,
remind me that they are not the whole of my life.
And Lord, Even though my trouble may still remain.
I know you are here with me.
Amen
Worry, Being Human, and Making Sense: My Take
I haven’t been feeling all that hot myself. Or, rather, I have. I’m running a fever. Or it’s running me, or — the point is that it’s a good thing I can post someone else’s words this week.
I’ve talked about worry, being human, and making sense, before:
- “A Quick Look: Prayer, Performance, Perspective” (April 25, 2026)
- “Life Lessons: Grocery Bags and a Bottle of Ketchup” (February 15, 2025)
- “ChatGPT and the End of Civilization as We Know It” (April 15, 2023)
- “Marlowe’s Faustus: Chorus, Soliloquies and Film Noir” (April 18, 2021)
- Self-Esteem, Within Reason (or, Humility isn’t Being Delusional 😉 )
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