I hope Cynthia’s face never vanishes from my mind.

“Excuse me,” she said, from the pew behind me in a midtown Manhattan church one recent weekday.

“I need help. Please call an ambulance.

“I was raped.”

After talking with her in the 50 minutes or so between the initial 911 call and an ambulance’s arrival, I learned that the recent violation she described was probably the least of the pain inflicted on her.

She didn’t want to go back to where she was living. A man there won’t leave her alone and had been abusing her. She felt alone and wanted someone to believe her. She was worried that the paramedics wouldn’t take her and doctors wouldn’t care for her because of what had happened to her.

And yet, by some miracle, she retained some dignity and hope. She told me she was going to go outside for a few minutes to smoke — “I know I shouldn’t do that. I know it’s not good for me.” Evil hadn’t crushed her yet. How resilient the human heart can be. It seems to be a miracle.

For my part, I sent Cynthia off with the paramedics and spent some time praying for her. I had given her the phone number for Catholic Charities in Manhattan, figuring that it would be able to connect her with resources that could get her a new start.

It was days ago, and much has happened since. But I can’t stop thinking of Cynthia and regretting that I didn’t do more for her — and that I don’t do more for others. We all have our burdens and problems. But most of us could afford to do more to help others. It’s what Jesus talked about on the Sermon on the Mount. It’s why Pope Francis goes out of his way to make those who feel removed from God feel welcome in the Church.

With all this in mind, I was grateful for the words of Philadelphia Archbishop Charles J. Chaput. He was speaking to the Religion Newswriters Association, as reporters prepped for the pope’s visit to that city later this month. He explained that the Church in Philadelphia spends more than $4.2 million a year on “social services for the poor, the homeless, the disabled, troubled youths, battered women, immigration counseling, food pantries and nutritional programs. And we manage another $100 million in public funding for the same or similar efforts.”

He emphasized that this story can be told about the Church throughout the United States, not just in Philadelphia.

His point served a number of purposes: to reframe the narrative that the bishops in the U.S. are out of step with Pope Francis in his love for the poor; to counter the canard that the Catholic Church in America only cares about abortion and gay marriage; and to highlight the reason that the voice of the Church has credibility when it comes to issues of poverty and injustice — because the Church is there on the ground, tending to wounds on the frontlines.

As I pray for Cynthia, I am grateful there was a resource to connect her with. Mother Teresa, who died around this time in 1997, cared for people she described as “the poorest of the poor,” who were discarded and displaced, lost and forgotten. I’m reminded of her words: “In this world, we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love.” Wherever we are, whatever we do, we can do just that. And support organizations that do so as well.

Unleash hope. Our times certainly need it. Our lives certainly do.

Kathryn Jean Lopez is senior fellow at the National Review Institute, editor-at-large of National Review Online and founding director of Catholic Voices USA. She can be contacted at [email protected].

COPYRIGHT 2015 United Feature Syndicate