Bishop Stephen Wang's Thanksgiving Mass Homily

Source: CBCEW

Homily given by Bishop Stephen Wang for his Mass of Thanksgiving at Westminster Cathedral on 30 October 2026.

St Paul is almost overwhelmed with gratitude as he writes to the Christian community in Philippi. Listen to how emphatic he is, and how every word seems to be touched with emotion. He says, "I thank God, every time I remember you; always, in every prayer of mine, for each one of you. I pray with such joy. I hold you in my heart. I yearn for you with the affection of Christ Jesus".

I feel the same today. My heart is so full of gratitude. For my family and friends. For people I have known and loved through my ministry as a priest, many of you here today.

For my brother priests. For the four Archbishops of Westminster I have known. For everyone in my new diocese who has made me feel so welcome.

And I'm grateful for my old Diocese - I hate to use that phrase - which has been my home for 59 years. I was born at UCH hospital, at the back of Tottenham Court Road, a hundred yards from the university chaplaincy. (It's nice to give a shout-out to Newman House! I know there are some former students here).

My first home was in Chiswick. And as many of you know, the family settled in Harpenden, where I grew up and found my faith, and where I was ordained a priest in the church of Our Lady of Lourdes.

It took me a long time to understand what a diocese means. I had a long, passionate flirtation with the Dominicans. I imagined myself in their flowing white robes, preaching in the marketplaces. Yes, it was a romanticised vision. And there is nothing wrong with a bit of romance. But I realised that for me, I needed to be rooted in a place, a people. And this has been my home: Westminster.

A monk belongs to his monastery, a Dominican friar belongs to his order, a secular priest belongs to his diocese. I'm sure this speaks to my own needs. But I think it is something more universal as well. The need to put down roots and to belong. In a world of social media, AI companions, hyper-mobility and working-from-home, how hard it is to build lasting relationships and find communities where we are truly known; and how many of us are struggling with loneliness.

We need to work on this as a Church. Our parishes are meant to be communities of love, of welcome, and of belonging. That doesn't just happen. It takes a lot of investment and commitment. To be with others as Christian brothers and sisters when they may not be your best mates or your obvious social group; to care for one another, simply to know someone's name, and to be known in return. Our parishes should be beacons shining out for everyone who is searching for a place to belong. That takes someone - you, me - who is willing to reach out and simply say hello.

I'm grateful not just for the Diocese of Westminster, but for this Cathedral. Isn't it amazing how a building can hold memory and transport you back to your former self? I remember standing here on this very spot, as a new deacon, reading the Gospel at the Memorial Mass for Princess Diana a few days after she had died.

I discovered my vocation here when I was a university student. I can see the seat where I was sitting, near the back, just in front of the Statue of St Peter. At random, I had picked up a booklet about the priesthood from the back of the Cathedral. There was a passage that explained the duties of a priest: to preach the Gospel, to lead others into holiness, to be a shepherd to God's people. And with a knowledge that went deeper than words, I thought to myself: Oh God, that's me.

The very next day I wrote a letter to Cardinal Hume asking if I could become a priest in the Diocese. I had these same priestly duties read out to me on the day of my ordination as a bishop last week.

The first time I set foot in the Cathedral I wasn't Catholic and I didn't even believe in God. I was sixteen. Something drew me here. It's hard to explain. How did I even know this place existed? I just knew I was meant to come here. It's strange.

The Holy Spirit works in so many mysterious ways. He draws us forward. He lifts us up. This is actually an image from the Gospel reading today. Jesus is arguing with the Pharisees about whether he should heal on the sabbath or not. So he asks them a question: If your child, on the sabbath, falls into a well, will you not pull him out straight away?

That's you and me. We were at the bottom of the well, and God has lifted us out. It was too deep, so he sent his Son Jesus down to find us, to tie a rope round our waist, and to lift us up with him.

That's wonderful. But there are so many others still stuck in the well; they have grown so used to the damp and the dark that they don't even know there is a world above, a world outside. How can we help them to know the love of Jesus Christ, so he can lift them into grace and into glory?

Our Christian faith is such a gift. It's not just for ourselves. How can we help others to know its beauty and the hope it can give.

Thank you for being here at this Mass. Thank you for all your love and support. Let's pray for each other and, as St Paul says, hold each other in our hearts.

And a special thank you, to the Diocese of Westminster, my old home, and to my new home, the equally beautiful Diocese of Arundel and Brighton.