My Church

How much I must criticize you, my church and yet how much I love you!

You have made me suffer more than anyone and yet I owe more to you than anyone.

I should like to see you destroyed and yet I need your presence.

You have given me much scandal and yet you alone have made me understand holiness.

Never in this world have I seen anything more compromised, more false;
yet never have I touched anything more pure, more generous or more beautiful.

Countless times have I felt like slamming the door of my soul in your face
and yet, every night, I have prayed that I might die in your sure arms!

No, I cannot be free of you for I am one with you, even if not completely you.

Then too – where would I go? To build another church?
But I could not build one without the same defects, for they are my defects too.
 And again, if I were to build another church it would be my church, not Christ’s church.

No, I am old enough now. I know better.

Paraphrased from Carlo Caretto, I sought and I found (London: Darton, Longmann, Todd)