Honoring Heritage, Embracing Change
2025 Annual Assembly, Louisville, KY
John Berry
Good morning, my Fellow Vincentians
It truly is a joy, and I mean a soul-deep joy, to stand before you this morning; old friends, new friends, colleagues, co-workers in mission, partners in faith. I look out at this room, and I see faces of people who care. That might sound simple, but think about it: in this age, when so much thrives on cynicism, on cruelty, on indifference… choosing to care, choosing to show up, choosing to stay faithful is an act which deserves great celebration.
We are this week, gathered as a Vincentian Family, to learn, grow, celebrate and to challenge ourselves as an organization. An organization founded in the year 1833. That is not just a date. That is a legacy. Old enough that our founding minutes were probably written with quill pens… but young enough that what they dreamed still beats in our hearts today.
Our theme for this National Assembly is Honoring Heritage, Embracing Change. Now, let me tell you something: as a theme, that’s dangerous. Because if you lean too hard into “heritage,” you run the risk of polishing brass plaques, telling sentimental stories, and quietly slipping into irrelevance. If you lean too hard into “change,” you run the risk of tossing away everything that gives you your character, your soul, your music.
So, what do we do? We do not choose between honoring heritage and embracing change. Like a good marriage, we commit ourselves to both. We strike a balance. Or, even better, we dance the dance, sometimes heritage leads, sometimes change leads, sometimes both stumble across the floor, but together, they create beauty that is timeless.
Honoring Heritage: Roots that Keep Us Grounded
Close your eyes for a moment and imagine those who came before us. Imagine that year: 1833. No airplanes. No antibiotics. No reality TV. No email to clutter inboxes at 7 a.m. just when you’re reaching for your first cup of coffee.
But there were immense needs. 1833 was a world of poverty, of social upheaval, of communities torn apart by war, famine, and inequality. And into that difficult world, our founders planted a seed. …A seed that has grown into the mighty tree we gather under today.
Consider what they gave us. They gave us more than a Rule. More than a name that doesn’t fit so well on a lapel pin or business card. More than even a mission. They gave us a vision. A conviction that faith is never meant to be kept locked up in a private devotion alone. Faith breathes best when it breathes outward, when it is embodied in works of service, when it lifts those who are bowed down.
Again and again through our history, that vision proved stronger than any obstacle. Wars came and went. Sixteen years after the first Conference in the United States formed in St. Louis the Civil War almost tore our nation apart, but we endured. Twenty-six years after the first Conference in my Council in Georgia was formed, the Great Depression almost destroyed America, but we endured. Other recessions tried to starve us. But we endured. New social movements tried to ignore or bury church-affiliated work in the secular age. Still, our vision lived. Or mission thrived.
Why? … Because people, ordinary people just like us, kept showing up. People like our grandparents, our parents, our mentors. Volunteers who stayed up too late visting people in need, processing checks to keep someone from being thrown out in the street, stocking thrift store shelves, or peeling potatoes for dining halls and soup kitchens. Conferences who endured meetings with too few resources and too many needs.
Supporters who believed that even a little money, in the right hands, with the right heart, could change a life.
My friends, honoring heritage means honoring them. The quiet saints whose names rarely make it onto buildings or banners. They are the reason we are here.
The Gift of Institutional Memory
Heritage also means institutional memory. Too often we hear people today say, “The church is irrelevant,” or “Nonprofits are inefficient,” or worse, “Charity is outdated.” And yet, our history tells another story. We survived because what we offered was not irrelevant, not outdated, but essential.
And here’s the thing: in times of chaos or confusion, our first instinct should be to remember. Not to cling to memory as nostalgia, but to use memory as a compass. A guide star. Yesterday’s struggles guide today’s courage. Yesterday’s failures keep us humble. Yesterday’s triumphs remind us that God really does supply daily bread, even when the cupboard looks bare.
So yes…as we plan, as we dream, as we innovate, we still honor heritage. Because even the most modern skyscraper is built on a foundation.
But I am not going to deliver a museum tour this morning. We honor the legacy not by staring at it, but by extending it. And that requires something that is both exhilarating and terrifying.
It requires change. Embracing Change
Change is Inevitable, but let’s be honest. Are we comfortable with change? (pause for reaction) Some of you are nodding …others are thinking, “Depends what’s being changed.” Some of you are sayin, neck no! (Or maybe something a little stronger).
Human beings don’t love change by nature. Familiar patterns feel safe. Familiar hymns, familiar meeting formats, familiar committee structures, these are our security blankets.
I’ll bet there are plenty of you in this room who, like me, just don’t feel right when the Choir at Sunday Mass tries to interject some new songs into the Liturgy. No, we yell (quietly to ourselves because after all, we’re at Mass). Give me my familiar hymns, my comfortable music.
I once heard someone joke about a pastor who wanted to move the hymnals from one side of the pews to the other. The Parish Advisory Council recommended doing it one inch per year so nobody would notice!
But let’s face it, change is inevitable. Change is not something to fear; it is something to steward. Because God’s own creation is built on change: seasons turning, years shifting, children growing, ideas unfolding. Every cell in your body is proof that change is happening constantly. Why then should we think our organization or mission is exempt from that holy rhythm?
The New Face of Need
Let me tell you something you no doubt already know and understand; the face of poverty and needs of today’s world are are different. In 1833, the frontier problem for charity was bread and shelter, basic survival. Today, of course, those remain. Hunger, hunger, always hunger. Homelessness. Addiction. But equally, we face needs our founders could hardly have imagined:
Digital poverty. The child who has a classroom but no internet access.
Mental health crises. The young adult, more connected online than any generation before, yet lonelier than ever.
Global displacement. Refugees from poverty, terror, and war zones around the world, appearing on our shores and in our parishes.
Climate vulnerability. Families not only impoverished by economics but displaced by floods, fires, hurricanes. Our heritage equips us to feed stomachs. Change requires us to also feed spirits, heal trauma, and transform unjust structures.
That is not betraying our roots. That is deepening them. Because what did our founders care about most? Loving God by serving real human needs. If the needs change, then our methods must as well.
Relevance with Youth and Young Adults
Let me address perhaps the most urgent part of this conversation: youth and young adults.
I want to be crystal clear: We cannot survive, let alone thrive, without young people. Those of you in your 20s, 30s: you are not just the “someday leaders.” You are already leaders, already carrying part of this mission.
Sometimes, when older organizations think about youth, they panic. They say: “How do we attract them?” And a frantic agenda begins – let’s add Instagram, let’s add hashtags, how about a pizza night? But let’s be honest: the younger generation is savvy. They can sniff out when you are using pizza as bait.
If we really want relevance, then we must go deeper. Young people want three things: authenticity, purpose, and participation.
Authenticity. Don’t give them sugar-coated jargon. Give them honesty, meaning and truth, teach them honesty, meaning and truth.
Purpose. Show them that we are not here to preserve our institution—we are here to serve real human pain.
Participation. Don’t just give them an internship to “watch and learn.” Let them shape the plan, shape the future, and make an impact.
If we do this, they will come, not because of flashy marketing, but because young adults are starved for purpose and meaning in a noisy world. And we have purpose and meaning to offer in abundance.
Growing New Members and Sustaining the Mission
This brings us to the perennial, age-old, motion-at-every-meeting topic: membership growth.
We all want to see more people in our Conferences. Not just younger people, but new people of every age. People bring gifts, energy, new ideas, and, yes, let’s be practical, resources.
But membership is not about creating new Vincentians. It is about extending an invitation to live into something bigger than yourself. It is about extending an invitation to live something bigger than yourself.
When people ask me, “How do we attract new members?” The best answer I can give is one word: hospitality. Not gimmicks, not numbers-reporting, but hospitality.
Hospitality that says: “You belong here before you prove yourself.”
Hospitality that says: “We see you not as a cog for our machine but as a gift to our family.”
Hospitality that says: “This is not our show. This is our shared work, come share it.”
People stay where they feel they belong. That is true in friendships, in churches, in nonprofits. If we offer belonging, the rest will follow.
Heritage and Change as Dance Partners
Now, allow me, just for a moment, to lean into metaphor. Imagine, if you will, a ballroom. Lights glowing. Musicians tuning. Onto the dance floor walk two figures: one named Heritage, one named Change.
Heritage has the poise, the discipline, the old-world charm. Change has the energy, the fire, the improvisation. Left alone, each is incomplete. But when they take hands, when they move together? The dance is electric.
That is us. That is the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. Part philosopher, part entrepreneur. Part historian, part visionary. Always remembering, always reaching.
Humor About Our Challenges
Now, we need to sometimes laugh at ourselves a little, don’t we? Because change and growth are not all glorious imagery. Sometimes they’re well … messy.
You know what I mean. A committee decides to “modernize” the thrift store, but it takes two months arguing about what color the carpet should be. Someone suggests we “go digital,” and before long, half the membership is still printing emails, and the other half is arguing about password resets.
That is reality, so let us embrace that chaos. Let us laugh at our quirks while still pushing forward. Because humor isn’t frivolous. Humor is a holy antidote to despair. A room that can laugh together is a room that can build together.
VisionSVdP
As we begin phase III of our VisionSVdP process, we have the opportunity to channel the energy, the fire, and the inspiration of change in concrete ideas and actions for our future. The process of Phase III is critically important because it allows the collective efforts of our listening sessions last year and earlier this year to become focused and aimed at specific changes we want to see. Some of expressed a concern that the Phase III process was complicated and laborious. We’ve heard those concerns and will be changing it to make it easier for every Council and Conference to participate. This is a very important part of VisionSVdP and I hope everyone will participate.
The Importance of Public Policy and Advocacy
I also want to talk this morning about an area of our work that is sometimes controversial but is absolutely essential – public policy and advocacy.
Now, some of you may be thinking, “Wait a minute, we’re a charitable organization. What does public policy have to do with us? Isn’t our mission simply to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to shelter the homeless?”
Yes. Absolutely yes. That is always our mission. But if we stop there, if we only respond to emergencies without also asking why the emergencies are happening, then we will always be playing catch-up.
Charity alone is never enough. Charity is the bandage, the food on the table tonight, the rent kept intact for this month. And thank God for it. But as any nurse or physician knows, once you apply the bandage, you also must ask: What caused the wound? How can it be prevented? How can healing be made permanent?
Public policy is where those questions get answered or get avoided. And advocacy is the way we make sure they are answered.
Why Public Policy Matters
Poverty is not just bad luck. Poverty is not just individuals making mistakes. Poverty is often the result of broken systems and short-sighted policies. A lack of affordable housing. A minimum wage that does not sustain a family. A health care network that leaves people behind. Gaps in education access. Marginalized neighborhoods that receive fewer investments but higher policing. When we ignore policies, we only ever dig the same trench again and again, giving out food but never asking why grocery stores disappeared from certain neighborhoods; handing out coats in the winter but never questioning why so many working families still cannot afford heating oil.
When we step into advocacy, though, our charity becomes amplified. Instead of just filling empty stomachs, we create food policies that bring down hunger rates across generations. Instead of endlessly handing out bus fare, we push for transportation systems that are dependable, accessible, and affordable for all. Instead of treating homelessness as an endless “one-by-one” crisis, we push for zoning, housing initiatives, and rental protections that prevent thousands from losing their homes.
This is not an abstraction. This is the multiplication of mission. It is the difference between serving one hundred people today and transforming the lives of hundreds of thousands tomorrow.The Tension Between Direct Service and Advocacy
Now, I am not naïve. I know advocacy can make people nervous. Trust me, I have read some of the comments on my Servant Leaders columns. Direct service feels safe, non-controversial. You can show someone a bowl of soup and say: “This is love.” It is hard to argue with that. Advocacy, on the other hand, gets messy. It asks us to step into debates, into legislative chambers, into city hall meetings where not everyone will agree with us.
But if we do not speak in those rooms, others will, and it will not always be with compassion for the poor in their hearts. If developers, lobbyists, and industries are the only ones speaking, then policies will be shaped by those priorities. The voice of faith, the voice of charity, the voice of justice must also be present.
And there is nothing unfaithful about this. In fact, it is profoundly faithful. In fact it was mandated by Christ himself. The prophets of the Old Testament were not shy about calling out kings and leaders. Jesus himself was not silent before unjust structures. To step into advocacy is not to drift from our mission – it is to live it more fully. It was a foundation of the philosophy of Blessed Frederick Ozanam when he started the Society.
Dependency and Dignity
One critique we sometimes hear is this: “Won’t more charity and safety net governmental programs simply create dependency?” It’s a fair question. But let us be honest, the greatest creator of dependency is not charity. The greatest creator of dependency is bad policy.
Think of it: when wages are too low, when schools are underfunded, when health care is unaffordable, when housing is out of reach, people are trapped in dependency. They do not choose dependency. It is manufactured by systems that deny them opportunity.
Good policy, on the other hand, restores dignity. When workers earn a living wage, when schools prepare children well, when housing is safe and sustainable, when medical care is accessible, then people are freed – not only from dependency on charity, but sometimes from dependency on the very government supports that opponents of justice complain about.
Advocacy, therefore, is not about fostering dependency but dismantling it. It is about creating conditions in which families thrive on their own strength and creativity. It is about enabling what Catholic social teaching calls subsidiarity: letting people and communities flourish at the most local level possible, without the crushing weight of systemic injustice.
Advocacy as Love in Action
Some will say: “But shouldn’t we just leave politics out of it?” And to that I reply – with love but with firmness – NO. Poverty is not a neutral issue. Hunger is not non-political. Lack of housing is not simply a coincidence. Every one of these conditions is impacted by legislation, budgets, funding priorities, and civic decisions. To pretend otherwise is to close our eyes to reality, put our heads in the sand, and hope it will all go away without us having to do the hard work. Let me tell you if you don’t already know – it won’t.
Advocacy, understood rightly, is not partisan. It is prophetic. We are not here to endorse candidates. We are not here to wave party flags. We are here to measure every policy, every decision, against a moral test: Does this lift up the poor? Does this defend the vulnerable? Does this respect human dignity?
If yes, we will support it. If no, we will oppose it. That is not politics as “us versus them.” That is public discipleship. That is mission with a megaphone.
Advocacy and the Youth
And let me say again, we must connect this to young people. Because what is clear about today’s youth movements is this: they care deeply about justice, and they are not afraid of advocacy. They march against climate change. They organize voter drives. They campaign for racial equality. If we want young adults to see our organization as a home for their energy, then we cannot shy away from advocacy. We must show them that faith and policy can work hand in hand for the good of society.
Ironically, if we refuse to engage in advocacy, we risk being seen as irrelevant by the very generation we hope to include. Young people want their lives to matter. They want their energy to build more than programs; they want to change structures. If our organization can show credibility in both feeding the hungry and speaking truth to power, then we will win their trust.
Practical Steps Forward
So, what does Advocacy look like? Well to start, it needs to include things that are practical, doable, and tied to our mission. Things like:
Coalition Building. We gain strength when we join with others – faith groups, secular nonprofits, civic leaders. Alone, we whisper. Together, we roar.
Training and Education. Advocacy should not be the job of a few. It should be built into our DNA. We must train our volunteers and staff to understand the issues, to share their stories, to become ambassadors for justice.
Witness with Presence. Sometimes advocacy is not about statistics or budgets. Sometimes it is about bringing a family who has experienced homelessness into a hearing room, letting them tell their story, making legislators look human suffering in the eyes.
Persistence. Policy change does not happen overnight. But then again, neither does ending hunger or poverty. This is marathon work. We are in it for the long haul.
Charity and Justice Together
Charity and advocacy are not enemies. They are companions. To paraphrase Blessed Frederick’s famous quote, Charity is the hand that wipes away the tear. Advocacy is the courage that stops the injustice that caused the tear. Charity saves lives today. Advocacy transforms lives for tomorrow.
To honor our heritage, we must continue our beautiful works of charity. To embrace change, we must also embrace advocacy as an essential arm of our mission. If we want to address poverty – not just temporarily soothe it… if we want to reduce unnecessary dependency – not just complain about it… then advocacy must be part of our DNA.
Because what is the point of feeding endless lines of hungry people if those lines only grow longer year after year? We were not founded simply to manage poverty – we were founded to help end it.
And with God’s help, and with courageous public advocacy, we still can.
A Call to Courage
So where do we end? We end with courage.
We honor our heritage – by remembering, by giving thanks, by grounding ourselves in the vision of 1833.
We embrace change – by not fearing it but shaping it with Gospel values.
We invite the young – not as spectators, but as builders.
We address need – by daring to go where the suffering is, with creativity. We grow – not for our own survival, but because the world needs more mercy, more justice, more hands at the plow.
This organization has survived nearly two centuries. But survival is not the goal. Faithfulness is. Relevance is. Holiness is.
And if we embrace those, then I promise: the next hundred years will not just be survival, they will be flourishing.
Closing
In 1833, do you think our founders knew more than 800 of us would be here this week? Of course not. But they knew this: If love is real, if God is faithful, if the poor are served, then the mission would outlast them.
Now it is our turn. Our turn to decide if this work will outlast us. Our turn to decide if we will cling to old ways for comfort or innovate
with courage for the sake of love. Our turn to say: Yes, heritage matters. And yes, change matters. And together they make us who we are.
So, my beloved friends, let us honor our heritage by embracing our future. Let us embrace our future by honoring our past.
And let us never, never forget: the Spirit is not finished with us yet.
Thank you.
And may our next chapter be the boldest, bravest chapter yet.
