The Church, a Formula One driver,
speeding past despair and sorrow,
unaware of life's weight.
The Church, a ship on vast high seas,
powering past other vessels,
shrouded in darkness.
The Church, a car with air-conditioning,
on life’s endless highway,
members cocooned in individualism,
floating in self-concern,
oblivious to others.
A sudden tire-burst, a forced pitstop,
a rudder shattered by storm’s fierce cry,
a failing engine,
calling for emergency, for phones to be cast aside.
In these forced pauses—
the sex scandal’s shame,
the financial greed’s dark veil,
clerical coldness,
the lack of welcoming—
the Church listens in silence:
to Her God,
to each other,
to the earth,
to the marginalized,
to herself.
Broken, bruised, battered—
at the pitstop,
at the port,
on life’s highway,
in the park of solitude.
She sees the wounded tires,
hears the broken rudders,
the engines of despair,
the polluted air of indifference.
Now, she slows—
a silent, sacred pause,
to learn synodality,
to walk with God,
to walk with others,
to walk with the marginalized.
In her gentle step,
she hears the voice of the Divine,
“slow down and you will catch me up.”
Beloved Reflections 