“Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people,
who have received the Holy Spirit even as we have?” -Acts of the Apostles 10:47
Despite being in the Easter season, I have been a bit discouraged about the state of the church. There is so much division and it is wearing me down. Yet, when I saw today’s first reading from Acts, I took heart.
Church is a field hospital, to quote Pope Francis, a place for the weary, the longing, the marginalized, the poor. Guess what, no matter our station in life, we are all of these things at various times whether we realize it or not. I’m always heartened to read this passage from Acts as a reminder that “God shows no partiality.” How could God? When I tell people that God loves each of us equally, no matter how bad we are, they often go pale and silent, or shake their heads no no no. Mostly because they feel unworthy, not because they are deeming another unworthy. I’m glad that I never fully appropriated a fear of an angry and capricious God, but I worry because so many people have done so.
Back to my field hospital imagery, I see church as a place where we come to be healed, to share, to offer ourselves completely – both at church and in life. The Eucharist is at the heart of it all, our divine nourishment. We bring ourselves as the offering as Christ has done, the broken off piece that we receive is what makes us whole and one in Christ. The dynamism always makes me tingle with excitement, even when I am at my discouraged worse! God is always waiting to feed us, tend to us, heal us, bind us up with love – no matter what. Sure we have to offer ourselves in utter vulnerability, our hearts open to reveal our wrongs that God will make right. That’s the hard part – not God.
On Saturday I was at the supermarket and ran into my former professor, friend, and priest, Richard Vosko. He lives nearby and I often see him amidst the spices or the pasta! This time he was in line ahead of me, I wasn’t sure it was him – masks! “Richard… ” I said tentatively, and he immediately said “Hello Fran!” What a delight to encounter him. He asked me how I was feel about church and I shrugged (paraphrasing here), admitting to my discouragement. Ever the people pleaser, after telling him that I still loved my job, I added that I always try to have hope.
Richard, never one to mince words, shook his head. He told me an anecdote about hope, one he has shared before – a reminder that hope is not always what is needed. Then he offered an alternative – resilience. “How about that?” he asked. Immediately I experienced an interior shift, knowing that resilience is precisely what I needed to focus on.
Trust me, I am still as Catholic as I ever was. And I do love my job, although it is exhausting as we labor on during Covid-19 and a lot of diocesan changes. As anyone who is friends with me or my spouse and daughter will tell you, I am a difficult person when I love someone or something. Critically examining everything and asking way too many questions, probing deeply. I do it to myself too. It is no different with the Church, I have issues and I discuss them with Jesus at length in prayer.
Today I awakened to a real Mother’s Day surprise. I cried when I saw what Mark and Erica had done for me. Then I went off to pray. As I did I was aware, thanks to all the moments that had preceded that one in recent days and the current moment, that it was not hope rising in my heart, but a desire for resilience. That’s what I will be praying and living with, a necessary adjustment, a refocus – a calibration actually.
My wish and prayer for you is to find resilience – or whatever you need to find, whether in nature, a pew, or even the grocery store.
There Will Be Bread 
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