The first reading in today’s liturgy is about a problem that arose in the early Christian community. It was a time when the Church was predominantly Jewish and the Gentile Christians were in some ways the “outsiders.” They felt, rightly or not, that their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of food. They were concerned about discrimination in the Church.

The church leaders acknowledged the problem and proceeded at once to do something about it. What they did was quite amazing when you think of it. These apostles who had received power in the Church directly from Jesus himself decided to share that power with the people, the laity. They invited them to choose representatives whom the apostles would then commission to take care of those members of the community that felt discriminated against. These men – later to be called deacons – were thus appointed to meet a particular need.

But that’s not even the whole story. If you read later in the Acts you will discover these deacons taking on wholly new roles. From simply waiting on table, their ministry expanded so that, like the apostles, they went out to preach the good news of the Gospel. Thus growth takes place, a development in the structure of the Church. A new ministry is born: the deaconate. In age after age issues arise in the life of the Church that have never been faced before: at least never been faced in the form they take at a particular time. Our reading from Acts witnesses to the fact that the Church operates at her best when she solves the problems that arise by a process of growth in a context of shared decision–making. The apostles set the example by inviting the community to share in the decision–making.

This episode is a good example – and there are many throughout history – of how solutions to particular problems can set in motion in the Church developments that move the Church in new and unexpected directions, as the Church tries to respond to the human needs of the community – in the light of the Gospel.

This principle of growth and evolution, existentially described in our first reading is given a theological articulation in the second reading –in which the Epistle of Peter offers what may seem at first hearing a somewhat odd description of what it means to be the church community. Yet there is a remarkably rich ecclesiology in his words: You are “living stones” to be built into a “spiritual house.”

At first hearing the image may indeed seem odd. Stones by their very nature are inert, lifeless. How is it possible to speak of living stones? The text is not intended to evoke an image of stones suddenly becoming alive, as singing, dancing, speaking stones. Rather “living stones” point to a mystery at the very heart of the reality we call “church.” The mystery is the paradox of an unchanging reality that is continually undergoing change.

The Church must have the fluidity we associate with life. This means that it has to be open to change –and at times drastic, painful change. At the same time it must have stability, such as we associate with stone. The Church has to be in touch with the Word of God that is Jesus Christ, who is the way, the truth and the life. If it were unfaithful to God’s holy Word, it would cease to be Christian. At the same time it must be in intimate touch with the living experience of the people of God. Were it to lose touch with the lives of people, it would cease to be relevant. No one age ever understands fully the Word of God. New events, changes in circumstances, may move us to see the Word of God in a new light. Seeing the Church’s teaching from a new viewpoint may give us a new and deeper understanding of what God wills for us here and now.

I need not tell you that these days all eyes – especially catholic ones – are directed toward Rome, scrutinizing the new Pope’s every word and action for signs of what kind of Pope we can expect Benedict XVI to be. I have done a bit of that scrutinizing myself. I have compared his last talk as a cardinal and his first talk as pope and they are very different. His homily at the opening of the Conclave seemed to me to be in clear continuity with what he has written in the past in his role as “defender of the faith.” There was a sternness about it, a kind of shadow hanging over it, as he spoke of the many threats to the beliefs of faithful Christians in today’s world. Those were the words of Cardinal Ratzinger.

Then I read the first talk as Pope Benedict XVI. My perceptions may be all wrong, but it seemed to me that it was worlds apart from the earlier one. The sternness is gone. The shadow is lifted. There is in it a reaching out rather than a pulling back. They appear as the words of a man who cares about people. They express some of the compassionate warmth of John Paul II. Pope Benedict XVI speaks of reunification with other Christians, of dialogue with other religions; and he had a special message for young people.

He pledges himself to “work tirelessly toward the reconstitution of the full and visible unity of all Christ’s followers.” Moreover, he says: “I address myself to everyone, even to those who follow other religions or who simply seek an answer to the fundamental questions of life.” He promises to build “open and sincere dialogue with them, in search of the true good of humankind and of society.”

These words are as heartening as they were unexpected. But we must never forget that new responsibilities can change a person. As Hans Kung has pointed out, Giovanni Battista Montini went into the papal office as a progressive and became, as Paul VI, a conservative, whereas Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli began his papacy as a conservative and became the progressive, John XXIII. What kind of Pope will Benedict XVI be? We wait – in hope and trust in the Jesus who in the Gospel promises us His presence.

Then, finally, think for a moment of his choice of a name: Benedict XVI. What did he have in mind? Or who did he have in mind? Was it Benedict XV who was pope during the First World War and who made every effort to work for peace in a war–torn world and for unity in a church terribly divided over the issue of Modernism? Or did he have in mind St. Benedict of Nursia, sixth century founder of the Benedictine order? If his choice was St. Benedict, it is good to remember, as Sr. Joan Chittister has pointed out, that Benedict had a sister, St. Scholastica, and that he treated her as an equal.

Finally, I want to go back to my beginning and say that, like the fellow in my story: “I am an optimist!”

Eva also wanted to add the following quote:

I had solicited two of my fellow Democrat ladies to go along; one drove with me and the other was supposed to meet us at the bus. Well, it turned out that there was no bus marked UHCAN, so after searching for some time, my friend and I got on a different bus. Fortunately, our other friend – whom we couldn’t find in the crowd of people and buses – did get on another bus and we finally got together at the rally. (It’s a good thing I had told her what I would be wearing as that was how she was able to spot us in the crowd.)

The bus was comfortable enough, and breakfast (donuts, rolls and fruit juice) was provided, as were plenty of boxed lunches, along with more beverages. The bus was equipped with overhead television screens and a movie was played on the trip both to and from Columbus.

There were three organizers on the bus, one of whom had asked my friend and me to be a part of her group to go into the capitol building to address a legislator. However, she didn’t wait for us as we got off the bus and had just said to meet her after the rally, without indicating a meeting spot or exact time. The Plain Dealer estimated the crowd at 3,000, which may have been a low estimate. Needless to say, we couldn’t find her or Deborah Nebel in that crowd.

At the rally there was a large group of students on the steps of the statehouse, holding signs and chanting to save their schools (they were very well organized and well behaved). My friends and I wound up close to the speakers’ stand, where folding chairs had been provided for those of us who could not stand for a long period of time. A Lutheran minister made the opening comments at the event. He then introduced a wide variety of speakers who would all be greatly affected by the governor’s proposed budget cuts. There were heart–wrenching stories told by these people (black, white, Hispanic – single and married) who were struggling to provide for their families on low–paying jobs with no health coverage, as well as teachers addressing the urgent need for school funding.

I remember in particular a young single mother who had worked so hard to get a better paying job (without benefits), only to learn that she was now just over the limit to receive Medicaid or any other benefits for her child, and not making enough money to provide them herself. Another woman, married with several children said that she and her husband worked six jobs between them in order to provide medical care for their children.

After the rally, my two friends and I decided to go into the statehouse – we were still looking for the organizer from our bus and for Deborah Nebel. (I had been entrusted with a stack of petition cards regarding the tobacco tax – from St. Malachi members – which I was supposed to give to Deborah on the bus.) Inasmuch as I couldn’t find either Deborah Nebel or the young organizer from the bus who had said that she could present them to a legislator, I wound up taking them to Senator Fingerhut’s office, as I felt confident that he would see that they went to the appropriate person(s). After I had done that, I did finally run into Deborah. She said that was fine with her.

While we were in the statehouse, the bells started ringing for senate session, so we decided to sit in on that. We couldn’t help but get the feeling that the senate knew exactly when our buses would be leaving and arranged that session so that nothing of any controversy would be discussed before we had to leave. They did an oral roll call, introduced a group of Rotary Club members, plus a couple of other groups (one being a group of honor students from Cleveland State University), followed by some reports. The only legislation they addressed in our presence was a bill to allow mothers to breast feed their infants in public, which they unanimously passed.

Finally, we had the fun of trying to find our bus (#12) in the endless line of buses. By the way, there were buses from a number of other cities, including Akron, Toledo, and Dayton. Well, as it turned out, our bus was the last to show up, some hour or so late.

The trip to Columbus was my first real outing after my bad bout with the flu. Needless to say, it was a very exhausting day for me. Am I glad I went? Well, my first thought was, “I’m never doing this again!” My second thought was, “Did it make any difference that I was there?” My third thought was, “What if 500 or so people thought the same thing?” Then I guess it would make a difference. Of one thing I am quite certain – it had to make more of a difference than sitting at home and complaining.