Henri de Lubac writes thoughtfully of the constant tension inherent in the Church (our model of femininity) between what she is and what she is called to be. From The Splendor of the Church:
In this sense, she is entirely holy and unfailing. The Bride of Christ cannot be degraded; pure and uncorrupted, she knows one dwelling alone and keeps in chastity and modesty the sanctity of one hearth. Her doctrine remains perpetually pure and the spring of her sacraments perpetually fresh.
At the other end of the scale, the second character, which is the end and fruit of the first, is a treasure each man can lose; a Christian must simply hope, in all humility, for the single divine gift of final perseverence. Throughout the whole body of the Church this treasure is always a variable quantity. The effects of grace vary in intensity from age to age and soul to soul, and we can never judge of them with certainty. Sanctity sometimes flowers more profusely and sometimes more intensely, sometimes in brilliance and sometimes in secret.
We have no business to picture to ourselves, Donatist fashion, a group of the "perfect" or predestined saints. In this world the Church is a mixed community and will stay like that to the very end -- unthreshed corn, the ark with both the clean and unclean animals, a ship full of unruly passengers who always seem to be on the point of wrecking it.
Whether in the eyes of God or of man, it is not righteousness which is the test of membership of the Mystical Body, that is the Church. "Infidels" of good faith and good will, even Christian dissidents (whose situation is however quite different) are only "ordered" to her, "by a constant desire and aspiration," and cannot be called her members in the full sense of this word, reapse. Sinners, on the contrary, continue to be truly part of her, provided they have not denied her; indeed, as we all well know, they are a vast majority. Although they do not live acccording to the Gospel they do still believe in the Gospel, through the Church, and although this bond is not enough to constitute the Church, it is enough, even when stretched to its utmost, to keep them her members -- even though they may be infirm, arid, putrid, or even dead members. The Church extends to them a patient toleration.
Even the best of her children are themselves never any more than in the way of sanctification, and their sanctity is always liable to shipwreck; all alike have to flee from the evil of the times to the mercy of God. Thus it is that the Church which we are must say daily, "And forgive us our trespasses," as the Roman Catechism, following the Council of Trent, reminds us. Every day she must call upon the power and the pity of Christ, for each day in this world is a day of purification for her, and each day she must wash her robe in the blood of the Lamb, "till she is purified in the fire of heaven and consummated in God."
And so that's our life -- within our families, our communities, our workplaces, our parishes, and the Church universal. We must beg for the patience to await the harvest, but also the wisdom to bring it about most effectively. Finally, we must fearlessly undergo our own purification so that our robes are as spotless as possible, giving testimony to the mercy of God and the possibilities for others to so be purified.
Both fear and self-righteousness are our enemies, and they each undermine our efforts. We must work towards the fulfillment of our feminine vocation; paraphrasing Pope John Paul II and working, each in our own way, to manifest the Bride in all her splendor: "Holy Mother Church, become what you are!"
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