In a prophetic speech given in 2015, Pope Francis proclaimed: “One could say that today we are not living an epoch of change so much as an epochal change. The situations that we are living in today therefore pose new challenges which, at times, are also difficult for us to understand.” Little did he know at the time the way these changes would be accelerated by a global pandemic, the growing consolidation of what the Holy Father has called a piecemeal World War, and increased political turmoil.
Few of us would deny the challenges we face amid this epochal change, not least of which being the significant loss of faith in institutions both civil and ecclesial. The factors contributing to this distrust may be different, but the overall outcome remains the same. Diminished trust in civil institutions could be attributed to a dysfunctional political class, greater ideological polarization, and the feeling that the “elite” enjoy the benefits of globalization while average Americans suffer. As a result, a record number of Americans are dissatisfied with the way democracy is working. The tenor of our political discourse and the shocking increase in political violence bear this out.
The Church has faced its own share of institutional challenges. Perhaps most acutely felt is the sense of betrayal surrounding the clergy sexual abuse crisis, with a major bomb dropping in 2002 following the uncovering of a sad history of abuse and coverup on the part of priests and bishops; and another in 2018 with the confluence of the release of the Pennsylvania Grand Jury Report and the uncovering of the pervasive abuse perpetrated by one of the country’s most visible prelates, Theodore McCarrick. These events have undoubtably wounded the Church, bringing with them no shortage of divisions—divisions both in identifying the underlying causes of the crisis and in determining a way forward.
Though the contributing factors may be different, what remains is a deep distrust of authority. The convergence of these factors, both civil and ecclesial, has created a unique challenge for the way the Church witnesses in the public sphere. At a time in which issues of great importance to the life of the Church and to the world are being debated and a mix of political victories and defeats are being evaluated, the fundamental question of how the Church is called to engage must be confronted. Can the Church continue to assert its authority in the public sphere in the same way it has in the past? Do the structures we have relied upon in the past still support themselves against the onslaught of challenges seeking to bring about their demise? More so, do political victories necessarily equate to real progress in the way our values are advanced?
These questions are underscored by the current situation in the wake of the Supreme Court ruling overturning Roe v. Wade, which sent the regulation of abortion to the states. Recent evidence shows that while the number of abortions sharply declined in those states that banned or significantly limited the practice, the number of abortions has increased in the country overall.
Drawing attention to this fact in no way diminishes the importance of working for the legal protection of human life, especially the most vulnerable. Rather, it highlights the difficulties we face in light of the current challenges. The question is, then, how do we move forward? Do we double down on this present course of action or do we chart a new course? Is our witness still compelling in the contemporary cultural and political climate? Perhaps we can reframe these questions by getting to the heart of the matter: how does a wounded Church become a credible witness to a wounded world?
Speaking to priests, consecrated men and women, and seminarians during an Apostolic Journey to Chile in 2018, Pope Francis spoke to these concerns by pointing to our wounded savior:
Jesus Christ does not appear to his disciples without his wounds; those very wounds enabled Thomas to profess his faith. We are not asked to ignore or hide our wounds. A Church with wounds can understand the wounds of today’s world and make them her own, suffering with them, accompanying them and seeking to heal them. A wounded Church does not make herself the center of things, does not believe that she is perfect, but puts at the center the one who can heal those wounds, whose name is Jesus Christ.
Only in recognizing the convergence of our woundedness—our individual woundedness, the woundedness of the Church, and the woundedness of the world in which we live—can we begin to understand the solution: Jesus Christ, who was wounded for our sake.
In the opening words of Gaudium et Spes we read, “The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ.” But this can be the case only to the extent that we recognize in our experience an identification with all of our brothers and sisters. This is the identification that Christ desires with the world through taking upon himself the wounds of the Cross, not so that we remain in our woundedness but that through his wounds we may be healed (1 Peter 2:24).
In that 2015 speech in which Pope Francis accurately diagnosed the epochal change we are currently living through, he continued:
Our time requires us to live problems as challenges and not as obstacles: the Lord is active and at work in our world. Thus, go out into the streets and go out to the crossroads: call all those whom you find, excluding no one (cf. Matt 22:9). Accompany especially those who are on the roadside, ‘the lame, the maimed, the blind, the dumb’ (Matt 15:30).
As Pope Francis reminds us, we cannot put ourselves at the center. Our efforts and the structures we build cannot be our main focus. Our focus, rather, must shift to the experience of the wounded Body of Christ, to “the lame, the maimed, the blind, the dumb.” In this conversion, we are invited to turn away from ourselves towards those in need of the Lord’s mercy and healing. And when we do so we come face to face with the source of our own healing—Jesus Christ himself.
The shift towards a deeper understanding of the need to receive and show mercy in those places where mercy is least often found does not amount to a retreat from our obligation to transform the world. This shift is not about eliminating or devaluing the structures that have provided the means for accomplishing this important task. Instead, in throwing ourselves deeper into a life of conversion—in removing ourselves from the center in favor of Christ—we facilitate the conversion of those structures that uphold and strengthen the very institutions that risk being destroyed.
In embracing the wounded yet glorified Christ, we make a decisive choice. This choice demonstrates not a show of force or an exercise of worldly power, but an embrace of humility—the humility of recognizing that we, too, are sinners in need of healing. This embrace of humility communicates true authority; the authority that flows from Christ on the Cross. “But we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are called, Jews and Greeks alike, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Corinthians 1:23-24).
The Holy Father’s call for the Church to walk together with a wounded world—for the Church to be a field hospital, to use an image he has employed throughout his papacy—is just as much for us as it is for those we serve. Perhaps we could view his insistence on synodality in this light. Far from an esoteric theological term, Pope Francis reminds us that “synodality is a style, it is walking together, and it is what the Lord expects of the Church in the third millennium.”
We see synodality lived out through the witness of those who seek Christ even in the most challenging circumstances. We see it in those who defend the life of the unborn by caring for women who feel hopeless in front of the prospect of bringing a child into the world. We see it in those who have listened to the cry of the poor and oppressed and have given of their time and resources so as to enter into the depths of the other’s need. In allowing ourselves to be confronted by the needs of others, we come face to face with our own needs. Rather than opportunities simply for doing good, if lived with a growing awareness of our need for Christ to be present, these become opportunities for an encounter with Christ capable of healing our own wounds and the wounds of those we serve.
This daily conversion away from defending ourselves or our positions in favor of embracing the Cross—embracing reality—takes us to the heart of what it means to be a witness in our world today. As we move away from the temptation to defend ourselves, we discover “a way of living the faith, within the social reality and pluralistic culture, such that others can perceive our presence not as something to defend themselves from, but as a contribution to the common good and their own personal good,” as the Spanish theologian, Fr. Julián Carrón, describes. He continues, “We need a way of being present without a will to dominate or oppress, and at the same time with a commitment to living the faith in reality, in order to show the human benefit of belonging to Christ.”[1]
In a time in which Christianity increasingly carries less social and political capital, an honest conversation about the nature of our witness is needed. It is not in the power of our structures as they currently exist, but in the power of our witness that the Church speaks credibly to a world in need of healing and mercy. The recognition of our woundedness as a Church does not diminish that witness, but speaks instead to the question of power. Rather than modeling structures of worldly power, the Church is called to discover the power of conversion in the humble embrace of the Cross. Only in embracing the Cross concretely in the suffering of our brothers and sisters today do we come to experience the glory of the Resurrection for ourselves and for the world.
[1] Carrón, Julián, Disarming Beauty: Essays of Faith, Truth and Freedom, 54-55.
Seeking the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary through prayer