-Where is your church now?
The question was posed to me by a neighbor I met while we were taking out the garbage during those first days of the confinement a year ago. He's a nice guy, Javier: family man, lawyer and amateur cyclist.
I was surprised that, in the midst of the confusion of those days in March 2020, the conclusion of his first analysis of the tragedy that had come upon us was to blame the Church in some way or, at least, to hold it accountable.
At the drop of a hat, it occurred to me to argue him with the news I had read that very morning: the quick response of the Poor Clares of Alhama de Granada, providing the city council with masks made by themselves; the Pope's donation of respirators to various hospitals or the offer of the dioceses to the authorities to contribute financial or residential resources to the fight against the pandemic.
None of that seemed to convince Javier, who considered those gestures ridiculous. I didn't want to get into a polemic, because I know that, against prejudices, arguments are useless, so I said goodbye politely and told him that yes, more could always be done.
And indeed, more has been done. In the last year, the Church has devoted itself admirably to the spiritual and social care of the Spanish people, which has been highly valued by society in general terms, as shown by two recently released data:
Firstly, the results of the "Caritas in the face of the coronavirus" campaign, described by the organization itself as an authentic "Explosion of solidarity" and which has had the support of more than 70,000 donors who have contributed 65 million euros, mostly destined to cover basic needs for food, hygiene or housing expenses and supplies for people who have found themselves, overnight, without the means to subsist.
And, secondly, the increase in the number of Spaniards who checked the Church's box on their income tax return. More than 100,000 new "x's" that represent a boost to the work that hospital chaplains have been doing -many of them died of the infection-; the parish priests, who have brought comfort to the families of those affected; or the religious men and women, workers and volunteers of the ecclesiastical institutions who have put their lives on the line to care for the people in their charge.
On Sunday, when I was leaving the house to go to Mass, I met Javier again in the doorway, who was out on his bicycle:
-What? To your church? -he asked.
-Well, yeah, you know....
-Nothing, nothing, let's see if by praying a lot you can put an end to the coronavirus," he said, sarcastically, without giving me time to answer him.
As I watched him ride away with his bike, I thought of several answers to give it back to him; but when I heard later at Mass that the Son did not come to judge the world but that the world might be saved by him, I thought that the best answer would have been the same one I gave him last year at this time: "yes, you can always do more".
