“Here in Buenos Aires we have seen Padre Bergoglio come out of a van any freezing night at 3 a.m. to set up a table with hot soup and coffee for the prostitutes of Flores, the neighborhood where he was born. Not a word of reproach or a sermon, just a cup of hot soup, a smile. Then someone picks up a cup and whispers in his ear; he walks aside and hears her confession, dries a torrent of tears, whispers something that the penitent assents to, sobbing. I know it seems bizarre…but Someone told us that angels rejoice when something like that happens no matter how bizarre it may look here on Earth. The absolution of the good thief on Calvary was no model of sacramental propriety either, but it worked.” (Carlos Caso-Rosendi, These Stone Walls)... (continued)
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