What They Built Together
How an ambitious idea, a year of persistence and a shared faith created something remarkable at Saint Therese of Corcoran
It has to be something remarkable when it catches the attention of the archbishop. And when grown men find themselves in tears as they realize the depth of what they have accomplished.
That is what happened after a group of residents at Saint Therese of Corcoran set out to create a monstrance for the community's chapel. What sounded at first like a woodworking project became something far more: a test of patience, an expression of faith and a lasting gift to the community they were helping to build.
But first, what is a monstrance?
A monstrance is a sacred vessel used in the Catholic Church to display the Blessed Sacrament, the consecrated host, during Eucharistic Adoration. Its name comes from the Latin word meaning "to show." Most monstrances are made of precious metals, often in a sunburst design, with the host placed in a small circular holder called a luna at the center.
In other words, this wasn’t simply an art piece the residents were proposing to make. It would hold what Catholics believe to be the true presence of Jesus Christ.
No small undertaking
The story began not long after Saint Therese of Corcoran resident John Wallin and his wife, Rose, moved into the community in 2024. Wallin, who is also a deacon, noticed that the chapel didn’t have all the sacred vessels needed for worship, including a monstrance.
At about the same time, he noticed that several of his fellow residents were interested in working in the new woodshop, which had plenty of equipment, but they didn’t have a clear sense of how to get started.
John decided they needed a project. Not a birdhouse. Not a bookshelf.
"We need to build a monstrance," he told them.
Even some of the Catholic men wondered what, exactly, a monstrance was. And once they learned that it was usually made of gold or another metal, John’s request for one made primarily of wood perhaps should have triggered a few red flags.
He had a clear idea, though. The monstrance would be crafted from woods from around the world, their different colors and grains coming together to support and draw attention to Jesus at the center. To John, the diverse materials would reflect not only the Saint Therese community, but the wider world and all of God's creation.
Fellow resident Guido Leutem listened to the idea and said simply, "I can do that."
Guido’s wife, Sharon, later asked John, “Why did you pick Guido?” “God told me,” he said.
Figuring it out
Guido had made furniture and become proficient at woodcarving, but he had spent his career in industrial laundry. He had never designed or built anything like this. John first drew a rough sketch of his idea on an envelope. Guido then took that sketch and what John had described and developed a detailed design, complete with the measurements needed to build it. What amazed John was how Guido captured his vision and put it on paper.
And almost immediately, the seemingly straightforward project became anything but.
First off, the woodshop didn’t have all the equipment they needed. The exotic woods they selected were so hard that tools sometimes needed to be sharpened every few minutes. Purpleheart and wenge left painful slivers, requiring gloves. Without a lathe to shape the wood, the project stalled. At one point, Guido suggested they begin whittling the large, glued block by hand just to make it more manageable.
Eventually, resident Ken Schoenfelder donated a lathe. Sharon helped Guido search for just the right wood, spending hours with him at a specialty wood store. The finished piece would include wenge, leopardwood, yellowheart, purpleheart, mahogany, elm, red birch, maple, red oak and clear poplar, each chosen for its beauty and place in the overall design.
The project grew as others brought their skills to it. Guido served as the designer and principal craftsman, while John was the project’s driving force, bringing people together, keeping it moving through setbacks and assisting Guido throughout the work. John also took on the painstaking sanding and polishing. Resident Les Oare, whose hobby is stained glass, cut custom glass. Former resident Tony Ouellette contributed decorative metalwork and brass before moving from Saint Therese. Ouellette died in July. Sharon offered a trusted creative eye and made sure Guido did not overdo it.
Saint Therese helped make the project possible, too. The Saint Therese Foundation funded the luna, the gold-colored vessel that securely holds the consecrated host at the center, and provided raw materials and workshop tools the residents needed to complete the work.
But even with the right people, progress was slow.
One obstacle after another
The greatest setback came when Guido became seriously ill. Fluid had accumulated in his lungs, making it difficult for him to breathe, and the fine wood dust in the shop only made matters worse. He was away from the project for about four months and at one point was not sure he would live to see it finished. He gave John detailed instructions for completing the monstrance without him.
John refused.
"We're not moving forward until Guido gets back," he told him. John later explained, "I wanted to give him a reason to live."
The unfinished monstrance waited. After heart bypass surgery and a pacemaker, Guido regained enough strength to return to the woodshop for longer periods. The work resumed.
Sharon remembers saying that it felt as though the devil was trying to stop them. There was always another obstacle. Still, the people, tools and resources they needed seemed to appear just when the project required them.
Nearly a year after work began, the large block of glued woods had been shaped, sanded and polished into a one-of-a-kind monstrance. They chose a satin finish that allowed the natural grain and color of every wood to show through.
The moment it became more
The monstrance was first used on Holy Saturday, April 4, 2026, during Eucharistic Adoration in the chapel. John carried it down the aisle with the consecrated host held at its center.
For Guido, that was the moment the many months of work, waiting and uncertainty finally came together.
“When I saw John walking down the aisle, we both got tears in our eyes,” Guido said. “I finally reached a goal.”
John had a similar realization. Of all the things these men had made during their lives, had they ever imagined they would one day build something to hold Jesus Christ?
The monstrance’s reach soon extended beyond Saint Therese of Corcoran. When Archbishop Bernard Hebda of the Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis visited St. Joseph the Worker in Maple Grove for the parish’s 150th anniversary in June, John brought it along and placed it on a counter in the sacristy. The archbishop noticed it almost immediately.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked as he moved toward it.
After hearing its story, Archbishop Hebda held and photographed the monstrance. “This is a really, really good thing,” he told John. “We need to show people this.”
And he did. Archbishop Hebda later mentioned the monstrance to the editor of The Catholic Spirit, the archdiocese’s newspaper. The publication featured the residents and their work in a full-page article in its Aug. 20 issue.
A gift and a legacy
John is glad now that the chapel didn’t simply purchase a monstrance. Had they done so, he said, the residents would have missed the struggle, the shared purpose and the persistence that held them together.
The monstrance will remain in the chapel as a lasting reminder of what residents created together.
But for Guido, its meaning is simple.
“It’s not the monstrance,” he said. “It’s what’s inside the monstrance.”
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See photos below.

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