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By: Rick Hernandez  Our Church is in mourning over the loss of our Pope, Francis. Both global news and social media are filled with reflections about his contributions, and the divided opinions surrounding his policies and pastoral approach. It is fair to say that we will continue to hear much more commentary on what kind of Pope the Church needs next, whether similar to Francis or not. But more than that discussion, I am interested in how we have been changed, individually and as a community, by Francis’ missionary call to unity, inclusion, and compassionate accompaniment for those lost in loneliness and in need of love and care. Some of us may feel a strange relief, now that Pope Francis' challenge to leave our comfort zones and accompany others where they are, is no longer so immediate. His voice, urging us to see where we fall short, is now silent. Yet Christ has always called us to that very same mission. Why are we still hesitating? It is time for each of us to spend some time in honest and humble self-reflection. Others may feel the loss more acutely, especially those who drew strength and encouragement from Pope Francis’ support of a Church that walks with the poor and the abandoned, those who feel they have no place, neither in society nor in the Church. That sense of discouragement is understandable. Still, the mission remains unchanged. We pray for courage, for renewed commitment, and for our charity to increase. How is it that we claim to be the people of a God of Goodness, Love, and Mercy, and still abandon our brothers and sisters at the margins? Pope Francis urged us to confront that contradiction. He invited us to become again a living, missionary Church, by reminding us that we are all sinners in need of grace, called to help one another. For this pastoral approach, he was criticized and even disliked. Criticized and disliked for being like Christ. I believe we are all called, in this respect, to be a little more like Pope Francis, in that love of the poor and the marginalized that was also espoused by Saint Francis of Assisi before him. A dear friend once said to me, “The Pope cares deeply about people on the edges of society, but does he care about us?” That is a fair and very honest question, and perhaps at the heart of the resistance to Pope Francis' pastoral ministry.
How did the ninety-nine sheep feel when the shepherd left to find the one who was lost? In an ideal and selfless world, we would rejoice that the shepherd cares so deeply for each of us. I imagine that when our lost brother is found, we would celebrate together in unity and full of joy. But we do not live in an ideal or selfless world. It’s understandable if some of the ninety-nine feel overlooked. Yet let us remember: the sheep were not abandoned; they remained in the shepherd’s field, together, in a place of safety, and knowing that the shepherd would return. It is up to us, the community of believers, to stand together while He searches for the lost. In fact, it is the responsibility of the ninety-nine to keep the place for the one who is missing.
When we are united in service, helping our brothers and sisters on the journey to Heaven, we leave little room for thoughts of exclusion or resentment. We help the Shepherd fulfill the mission of Love and Mercy by loving one another, by moving beyond our comfort zones, and by trusting more deeply in His love. We become as shepherds to one another, protecting, supporting, and growing in grace together. But perhaps we are among the discontented sheep. If so, let us remember why Christ came into the world, and why He left us His Church. If the Church is, as Pope Francis famously said, a field hospital, then we are all patients in its care in some way. May we, by God’s grace, heal well-enough, that while being patients, we can also help as caregivers. Let us keep the faith, for we know who the Divine Physician is. Are we contributing to Christ's mission of Love and Mercy, and are we the Church Christ intended us to be? Let us have a renewed commitment to be the Church Christ intended us to be. If our brothers cannot love, then let us be like Mother Mary and gently point them to Jesus. That is good and right, but let us also love them. If our brothers cannot believe, then let us be like Saint Thomas, invite them to bring their doubts to Jesus and see His wounds, that they might believe. That too is good and right, but let us also walk with them on the road to faith. Pope Francis called us to care, in both thought and action, just as Jesus did. Let us pray for Pope Francis' soul and his eternal rest. And let us also pray for our new Pope, whoever he may be, that Christ’s Church may continue to call us to conversion, to the stretching of our hearts, and to the reaching out of our hands to those in need. This is what Christ commanded. Let us fall on the side of love. Amen.
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By: Rick Hernandez  We have finally reached the end of Lent, getting even closer to the celebration of Easter, where we remember, in thanksgiving and full of joy, our Lord Christ's Resurrection! But before we get to Easter, we have to remember that Christ experienced His Passion. How often do we, in our very lives, desire the joy of Easter, without embracing the suffering from the Passion? As the Order of Christian Initiation for Adults (OCIA/RCIA) coordinators in our parish, my dear wife Ivonne and I walk hand-in-hand with many seeking to become Catholic Christians. It is often that these beautiful souls come to the Church, not by being celebrated by those close to them, but instead by going through their own Gethsemane, left alone and abandoned by those they deemed friends and family. I believe in my heart that, in those moments of loneliness and solitude, they are experiencing something of what Christ suffered that day in the garden.
What great courage those seeking Christ have! What great love they profess when they move forward in that conviction of Christ calling them ever-closer to Him, even amid discord, disinformation, and disharmony. We are seeing this today, in a country where religious freedom is supposed to be one of our most important individual rights. Can you imagine them, the called, in those places where the persecution of our faith is open and encouraged? How many martyrs have we seen? We have witnessed too many, even in these modern times. May our Lord's love and compassion be ever with them. But what about us? Do we consider these things and live our faith publicly? Do we live our faith openly and faithfully? Or are we just too comfortable with what we do, that we even fail to accept a little discomfort as an offering to acknowledge Christ in our lives and witness to His love for us among our peers?
History reminds us that standing for faith has always carried a cost. I often think about Saint Oscar Arnulfo Romero, martyr and Archbishop of San Salvador. Throughout the late 1970s and early 1980s, the Church in El Salvador was suffering severe persecution, trapped in the middle of a de-facto civil war between the Salvadorean government and many insurgent groups. Archbishop Romero knew that no one in the country was safe, but knew even better that those who were poor and isolated were bearing the worst from the conflict. He became the voice of the voiceless, defending the people and their faith while serving the poor and the displaced. For that criticism of the conflict, and his insistence on keeping the churches open, he was ordered shot and killed halfway through saying the Holy Mass on March 24, 1980. I often wonder if I would have the courage of Archbishop Romero if I were ever called to forfeit my life for others... and I look up onto the Cross of Christ, and I know that, because of love, He paid that price... Could I love like that? I do not know, but I pray that if it were to happen, that I be given the strength and conviction needed, that my love be strengthened enough that I would accept it the same way Christ did. The same way Saint Peter and Saint Paul did. The same way Saint Oscar Romero and Blessed Miguel Pro did.
There is no Easter without the Passion. Most of us are not called to make that ultimate sacrifice of dying for our faith, but we are all asked to figuratively die to ourselves in small ways so that we may live in service to others. Let us keep our eyes and ears open and remain willing to follow Christ, for we are called to embrace this death of self, and live a life of selflessness and service, just as Christ himself lived. We are called to bear witness to this with our very lives. This is our small sacrifice. This is our offering.
Let us pray: "Lord, so great is our love for you that even though we walk in a world where speaking your name can mean certain death, your faithful still speak it and speak it all the louder. Help us work for a world where all may speak their creeds and pray their prayers without fear of violence. Hear the prayers of those who abide with you in dangerous times and in dark valleys, and who die with your name on their lips. Draw them quickly to your side, where they might know eternal peace." (Prayer for the Christian Martyrs)
 The early Church found its footing not only in the Jews who converted due to their witness of Christ and the testimony of the Apostles, but also in the many foreigners who lived on the land, foreigners who opened their hearts and minds to the teachings of Christ. The early Church was thus made of both Jews and Gentiles, united in Christ despite all their differences. In the Acts of the Apostles, we read of a vibrant community of converts, Jews, and Gentiles who welcomed Saul. Saul, now known as Saint Paul of Tarsus, originally persecuted the Church but was converted by an encounter with the Glorified Christ. He, who was forgiven by the grace of God, launched himself then to build the Church, supported by the diverse many called to the Church. Whether they be Greeks, Hebrews, or Romans, these faithful Christians blessed and supported him on his first missionary journey and then three more. The Church was bold. It was, even that early in its history, to go over to the many nations and make Christ’s word known by their very lives. This is part of what it means for us to be the word in action.
…of all nations. The word “nation” does not mean “country”. It means a people that share a common history, ethnicity, or background. So, when Jesus calls people of all nations to himself, it is a call for people of all backgrounds, with all our stories. Christ’s word is for all of us. He calls all of us to himself. That diversity of culture and customs that the early church was founded on, was partly what helped it thrive. The Church embraced this openness of the people bringing their gifts, gifts given to them by their openness to the Holy Spirit. When we bring our gifts, and specifically, who we are in Christ, we end up enriching one another, while united perfectly in our shared belief and faith in the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ. That diversity strengthened the Church. There was a strong desire to reach out to those who were outside their local communities and share the light that had been discovered. Do we have this desire today? The Church of Christ has never been, nor ever was intended to be, a homogenous tribe. We can see that Christ called people of different backgrounds to himself, even in his earliest and closest disciples. He called Simon Peter and Andrew, two Jewish fishermen without education, to let go of their trade so they could join the apostolate. He called Matthew, who was a Roman citizen and an educated tax collector, to let go of his life of riches and become an apostle, and we know he called Simon the Zealot, a Jewish nationalist, to abandon political intrigue and rebellion and become an apostle. There was Mary Magdalene, a woman of low station, who Jesus called, and who became an early disciple of Christ and the Apostle to the Apostles. We know the story of the Ethiopian Eunuch who was baptized by Philip, and then there is the story of the Samaritan woman at the well, a foreigner that Jesus ministered to and called to himself, and who is now known and venerated in the Eastern Catholic traditions as Saint Photini. There are so many different life stories and backgrounds to tell, too many to include here, but let us agree that it is meant to be like this. We are not all the same, yet we are all united in the One who loves us. We are diverse, yet one.
Just like Saint Paul, we all have our own stories of how we were called to Christ, and there are as many stories as there are stars in the sky. This call that we share with our brothers and sisters is an important part of what makes us one in Christ. In the Eucharist, we are one. We are to remember this. We are stronger together, in what makes us different and in what unites us.
Let us pray: Lord, please open our eyes so that we may see your love towards your people. Let us cherish You in your diverse creation and in what makes us all one in You. Together in the Eucharist, let us adore You. Amen.
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AuthorsWe are Ivonne J. Hernandez, Rick Hernandez and Laura Worhacz, Lay Associates of the Congregation of the Blessed Sacrament, and brothers and sisters in Christ. 
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