A Wounded Church

As I’m waiting for the Mass to begin, the words of my grade 10 Christian Living teacher echo in my mind. The moment she uttered these words to us, I was skeptical. 

“A wounded Church is better than a perfect Church.”

But how can something as holy as the Church be better when it is imperfect, filled with human flaws and struggles? This question filled my mind as my eyes scanned across the place around me.

I used to believe that the Church’s foundations are values that promote propriety and modesty. When I was younger, elders quickly shut down all the ideas of immorality and sin before I even had the chance to ask questions. I grew up believing that the Church is a place fit only for those who are pure and righteous—those who live holy lives. Yet, the more I think about it now, the more I believe the words I used to doubt.

As my eyes land on different people, it hits me how different we all are. We come from different backgrounds and carry different baggage, yet one thing makes us all equal: we are all human. Therefore, we aren’t infallible. We commit sins daily, make wrong decisions, and tread the wrong paths. If the Church was built only for those who are perfect, then it would be simply out of reach.

A wounded Church is a community that bears marks of human weakness. It holds broken, suffering, and imperfect members–sinners who hide beneath clasped hands and Sunday clothes. Although it contradicts my previous beliefs about Catholics, the structure stands perfectly as built.

“I prefer a Church which is bruised, hurting and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a Church which is unhealthy from being confined and from clinging to its own security,” said Pope Francis.

The Church is a hospital where those wounded by life come to be healed, not judged. After all, Jesus came not for the righteous, but for the sinners. He holds up those weakened by failure and becomes a cane to help them walk toward the light. The Church is not a museum of perfection, but rather a home that accepts the doubtful to feel assured, transformed, and renewed. 

We hear this in every Gospel, words meant to give light to those lost in the dark. It tells us that God is an understanding Father who welcomes us with open arms. And every time we feel lost, our Church stands firm, always welcoming anyone who runs toward it. No matter how bruised and battered we are, He understands, and He loves us even more. 

So as I step out the arched door and as the sounds of the claps begin to fade away, all my worries and fears fade with them. Hope sprouts inside me, and I see the path towards who I am becoming. The guiding hand of our Lord holds me, so I know I won’t be lost. 

And now I believe in my heart–a wounded Church is better than a perfect Church.