A Field Hospital on Main Street

Honoring Pope Francis' legacy in our work at the Hotel Cecil

Early this morning, the world bid farewell to Pope Francis, who passed away at the age of 88 in his residence at the Vatican's Casa Santa Marta. Throughout his papacy, he offered a quietly radical vision of the Church—not as a fortress, but as a field hospital after battle. He spoke not from above, but alongside, bending down to wash the feet of prisoners and urging priests to 'smell like their sheep.' This image has shaped not just the wider Church, but also my own ministry, especially here on Main Street in Los Angeles.​

The Holy Father, Pope Francis, in Mongolia in 2022

At the Hotel Cecil, we see the aftermath of many battles. Battles with addiction, yes—but also battles with bureaucracy, with disconnection, with systems that gave up on people long before people gave up on themselves. We offer clean clothes, food, life skills, a listening ear—but more than anything, we offer presence. A kind of spiritual triage.

And in that presence, I hear the very cry that Pope Francis named in his final Urbi et Orbi blessing on Easter Sunday:

“Sisters and brothers, especially those of you experiencing pain and sorrow, your silent cry has been heard and your tears have been counted; not one of them has been lost!”

We don’t need stained glass to hear that cry. We hear it in the hallways of the Cecil. We see it in a tired hand reaching for a meal, for connection. We feel it in the stories that tumble out during quiet moments of trust.

Francis gave us permission to lead with compassion, not condemnation. He reminded us that doctrine without mercy is just noise. And that love—especially toward those cast aside—is not optional for the Church. It is the Church.

As I grieve his passing, I also feel a renewed responsibility. To keep the field hospital open. To count every tear. To live as if every silent cry matters—because it does.

Rest well, Francis. We’ll keep walking the ward.

Archbishop José H. Gomez of Los Angeles echoed this call to action in his statement this morning:

“We must continue our work of serving the poor, the migrant, and all who are forgotten on society’s ‘peripheries.’”

If this kind of work speaks to your heart, know that your support—of any kind—helps us continue showing up with compassion, right where it’s needed most.