We exist in the infinite embrace of God’s mercy. In mercy, we all were created. In mercy, we all live. In mercy, we all have the hope of eternal life.
The lavish mercy of God pours over us in every sunrise and sunset, in every noon and midnight. With every breath, we draw on mercy. With every thought, we capture its spirit and turn it to our hope. The gift of such divine power in us calls us to lavish mercy with our own lives, to be agents of mercy in all things.
This journal is offered as an act of thanksgiving and celebration for that lavish mercy. It is a gathering of reflections and prayers which sift through our ordinary experience to seek the breath-giving grace of God awaiting us there.
My name is Renee Yann. I am a Sister of Mercy. I love to chase God through the bright blessing of words. I love to discover words in the dark blessing of silence. It is a joy to share with you the humble fruit of those mutual blessings.
Our entire theological tradition is expressed in terms of Mercy, which I define as the willingness to enter into the chaos of others. James F. Keenan, S.J.
Forgiveness is the conscious choice to release resentment and a desire for vengeance, while still acknowledging the wrong done, and is rooted in God’s mercy and grace.
Ah, Equinox – respite from the cold!
Today our Earth will put away her winter jewels, her cold snow pearls and glistening ice diamonds stored until distant December. With them, she lays aside her cool reserve, the stark elegance of silhouetted trees against a white landscape. She says, “I have finished my silent retreat.”
Instead, Lady Earth unveils her costume jewelry – that improbable mix of pinks, purples, greens, and yellows. Even if this morning, she wraps them in a silver cashmere fog, we know it hides a riotous, tumbling April.
Every year, we wonder if those bare trees and barren hillsides will ever green again. But they do! Spring is the act of “Great Forgiveness”. It is the time when Nature mirrors the Infinite Mercy of her Creator and says, “Fear not, Winter. I am deeper than your cold. My resilience has redeemed us both for another chance at life.”
We, too, as human beings, are capable of such resilience. I remember my mother’s infinite patience with a sometimes-annoying neighbor. Edna’s seemingly innocent conversation harbored veiled references to her economic superiority. Little wintry comments like, “It’s a shame you can’t get a Hoover. It would make your life so much easier”. Even as a child, (who had no idea what a Hover was) I was nettled beyond tolerance by the insensitivity of the statement.
But my mother, who was no pushover and who did not suffer fools gladly, was patient and faithful. She knew Edna, though careless in her opinions, didn’t mean to hurt or shame her.
Such thoughtless remarks could have hung like icicles in mid-air, but my Mom clipped them with her wonderful capacity for humorous honesty. “Eddie,” she said, “you can bring your Hoover over and do my rugs every Friday.” Edna laughed at herself, rescinding the tactless comment with an “I’m sorry, El. You know I didn’t mean anything by it.”
My mother taught me to live from the “Great Forgiveness” which can warm any cold. She left a great space for people before ever closing in with judgement.
At one point when I was still very young, my mother became quite ill and after a long hospitalization, returned home for an extended recuperation. During that time, Edna came every day to cook for our large working family. Weekly, she cleaned our house with the same decrepit vacuum she had earlier criticized.
Without a word, Edna challenged me to learn another lesson about the nature of fidelity and true friendship and the commitment to give it voice without words.
Years later, I read a quote that captured these lessons: “Always be kind. We never know the battles someone else is fighting.” These are lessons I remember with gratitude today in this equinox of another “Great Forgiveness”. Forgiveness is a largesse we can imitate if we simply remember the mercies we ourselves have received.
Filial Piety is the virtue of deep respect and tenderness for one’s parents, elders, mentors, and ancestors
How Jesus must have loved Joseph – this man so holy that he gave his whole life over to the nurturing of God!
But Joseph’s choice was not easy.
The choice was confusing.
This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.
Matthew 1:18-19
The choice took courage.
When they had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.”
Matthew 2:13
The choice took patience.
After the festival was over, while his parents were returning home, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but they were unaware of it. Thinking he was in their company, they traveled on for a day. Then they began looking for him among their relatives and friends. When they did not find him, they went back to Jerusalem to look for him. After three days, they found him in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. Everyone who heard him was amazed at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him, they were astonished. His mother said to him, “Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.”
Luke 2:43-48
The choice took humility.
After the above incident in the Temple, we do not hear of Joseph again. We can assume that for the remaining decade before Jesus’s public ministry, he worked side by side with Joseph to sustain their little family. In the Divine Plan, it appears that Joseph’s role is humbly and silently concluded by a quiet death in Nazareth before Jesus turns thirty.
Most of all, the choice took immense and sustained faith.
Joseph’s faith sustained his life, protected and companioned Mary, taught and nurtured the Son of God. That was one extraordinary faith! Yet, in many ways, it is a faith we ordinary believers are also all called to:
to hear God’s call
to step into salvation history with trust and courage
to do what needs to be done without braggadocio
to end in quiet grace, acknowledging that it all belonged to God
Music: Hymn to St. Joseph
Christum Dei Filium qui putari dignatus est filius Joseph: Venite adoremus. O come, let us adore Christ the Son of God, Who deigned to be thought to be the son of Joseph! Blessed be the eyes that have seen what thou hast seen, Blessed be the ears that have heard what thou hast heard. Blessed be the arms that have held thy Creator. Blessed be the hands that have labored for the Word. Blessed is thy Heart all aflame with ardent love, Chosen and Beloved by the Holy Trinity. Blessed be thy Virgin spouse entrusted unto thee. Bless all, dear Joseph, who love and honor thee.
For Your Reflection:
What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ?
What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?
Veracity is the virtue of being truthful in all things.
Recently, I heard our culture referred to as “The Post-Truth Age”. I found that statement to be both accurate and frightening. In a world completely entangled in lies, veracity is a lonely virtue. Jesus knew that. As he nears Jerusalem, it becomes increasingly apparent that those who live by the Lie will seek to exterminate him. But, in Jesus, Truth is eternal. Through his Resurrection, we are welcomed into that infinite Veracity.
Throughout this week, the Word of God is leading us – out of darkness, out of blindness, out of fear, out of all that inhibits the eternal life of grace within us. Time is drawing close to Calvary, when our faith will be tested. Jesus wants us to remember the miracles and words of this week so that our faith will not be shaken by the days to come.
Like Antonia, in the story below, Jesus wants us to find the Truth that supersedes circumstances. It is a Truth that rests in full and honest relationship with him.
“End stage melanoma,” the doctor pronounced, after Antonia requested complete honesty.
It seemed unfair to those who knew her: an ebony spot, unnoticed on her back, soon would bleed its ink across her death certificate. For Antonia, though, the irony lay not in her diagnosis, but in the thought that so few people really knew her or would care.
An unmarried, retired teacher, Antonia was an only child. With only distant cousins, she had made the parish her family. She was a daily communicant, a generous contributor, and a respected neighbor. Antonia knew this. But, for decades, she had still gone home each night to a lonely house and a solitary life.
How surprised she was when, during her final weeks in hospice, visitors came in waves to comfort her. Students spoke of her steady influence; neighbors of her charity. Colleagues remembered her patience. When one visitor lamented Antonia’s situation, she stopped him, mid-sentence. “I have never been happier,” she said. “I had no idea so many people loved me.”
Life’s circumstances can conspire to convince us that we are unimportant, unloved, even useless. Sometimes, these perceptions are self-imposed. At other times, they are pressed on us by hostile forces, as they were on Jesus at the end of his life. But Jesus assures us in this week’s readings: “The one who believes in me will never die.” He touches the blind man with light and the royal official’s son with resurrection. Jesus calls us to trust that we are infinitely loved. Believing it, we have the strength – even the joy- to go with him to Calvary.
The theological virtues are faith, hope, and love (charity). These are considered supernatural gifts from God that cannot be earned through human effort alone, but are received at Baptism and help guide a person’s moral life by directing them toward God.
In our readings during this third week of Lent, we travel the distances between despair and hope, hard-heartedness and repentance, law and mercy. We enter the experience of Hosea as he longs for the return of grace, of the courageous woman at the well, of Peter as he matures in faith, of the Pharisee and tax collector at prayer. Again and again, we are offered the threads of repentance, mercy, and hope that knit us into God’s heart and eternal imagination for us.
During Philadelphia’s harsh winter, Joe lived on a steam grate in center city. George had met him there while volunteering with a homeless outreach program. Joe, articulate and engaging, was easy to befriend. Nevertheless, he was afraid to come in to the shelter.
One morning, on his way to a downtown meeting, George stopped to pick up coffee. He decided it would be nice to take a cup to Joe on his way. Sitting down on Joe’s grate, George offered him the steaming coffee. “Oh, thanks anyway, but I only drink tea,” Joe said. George burst out laughing at his noble mistake. “You didn’t think homeless people had choices, did you?” Joe countered. George, a good-hearted, generous man, learned a lesson that day about the human dignity often hidden under accretions of poverty, neglect and disenfranchisement.
Jesus made no such mistake when he met the woman at the well. Instead, he peeled through her accretions by respectful engagement and questioning. The woman, heartened by him, responded wholeheartedly.
This week, God invites us to strip away any pretense or fear keeping us from coming home to Mercy. The readings remind us to hear, observe, and teach the Divine Law. They encourage us to soften our hearts for God’s voice.
God knows our brokenness and hard-heartedness. Yet, God invites us to repent and to believe that we are not far from the kingdom. This week is a good time to seek God’s feedback on our lives by a sincere examination of conscience and a fearless request for healing. It is a perfect time to come home to Love.
What does it mean to hunger and thirst for justice? The Greek word translated here as “justice” is dikaiosune, a term that refers to personal righteousness as well as to social justice. Those who hunger and thirst for dikaiosune have a deep yearning for things to be right in their individual lives and in society. This will happen when God’s kingdom comes completely and creation is restored to God’s original intention. ~ from the website theologyofwork.org
In our readings during this second week of Lent, we are encouraged to let go of guilt, to “remember not the things of the past”. We hear the story of Joseph, who was sold by his brothers, only to “redeem” them by his forgiveness. We are challenged to change the “season” of our hearts and embrace the full life of the Paschal Mystery. Our hunger for justice is truly the deep desire, not for any kind of reprisal, but for right balance in our lives with God and with all Creation, as seen in this story.
“Can you let this not be about you?” the chaplain asked, as Jane tried to explain her resistance and guilt. Evening darkened the small office just outside the tumultuous ER. There had been a building collapse, and Jane’s mother had been nearly crushed. Jane was the only relative, a long-alienated daughter. “But I’ve wanted to be reconciled”, she wept. “I just never had the courage to face her. Now it may be too late.”
Over several hours, the chaplain patiently encouraged Jane along a path of self-awareness, helping her realize that it was herself she needed to face. Her mother’s situation, while tragic, offered Jane a catalyst to confront the years of excuses and denials that had paralyzed her. Slowly, the hope of reconciliation washed over her.
When her mother finally stabilized, Jane leaned close to her battered face. Her mother summoned the strength to whisper, “I have never stopped loving you.” That forgiving whisper breathed a vital courage into both women. Each would survive a particular kind of death that day.
Despite our best hopes and intentions, life can collapse around us. Broken promises, unfulfilled dreams and soured relationships can litter our landscapes. We may even lose God in the rubble. This week, Isaiah offers us God’s forgiving invitation, “Come now, let us set things right”, says the Lord. “Though your sins be like scarlet, they will become white as snow.”
God will never stop loving us. God longs to embrace our repentant hearts. Let us listen to and believe God’s whisper.
Music: Remember Not the Things of the Past – Bob Hurd
Supplication is a humble and earnest prayer that asks God for specific spiritual or material aid.
They stood quietly by a sunlit window. “I have forgotten how to have fun,” Anne said, gazing wistfully toward the wintering trees.
Her friend knew the statement to be true and did not argue. Recently retired, Anne had managed a heavy career by rigorously systematizing her life. She was dependable and predictable – like a trusted clock. But somehow, her joy had been caught in the gears.
Sometimes, change is as simple as confronting unexamined routines. At other times, it requires a profound turning. In this week’s readings, we hear the language of such radical transformation: “be reconciled, be holy, ask, repent, forgive” – words commanding a ruthless examination of our attitudes. They suggest that, in order to renew our hearts, we must let something in us die.
Paul begins the week reminding us that our sinful world is redeemable through the gracious gift of Jesus Christ. Believing this, we will have the courage for true transformation. Such faith frees us of our blindness to the unholy in our lives.
Throughout the week, Esther, Jonah, the God of Moses, and Jesus himself encourage us. We make this Lenten journey in the company Holy Ones who radicalized their lives in faith, awareness, action and joy.
Unless, like Anne, we discover some discomfort in our souls, we will not seek change. Such discovery requires that we pray at the windows of our souls. Have we forgotten the spring-like beauty of a life lived deeply in God? Have we never known it in the first place? This week, we are invited to seek God’s Mercy, to return to joy, or maybe to find it for the first time!
Music: Miserere Mei – Mozart
Suggested Reading:
Psalm 51, interpreted by Rev. Christine Robinson
Have mercy on me, O God, For I’ve messed up again Sinned against You in thought, word and deed, and in what I have left undone. Been–all too human.
Can you make me a new heart, O God? and a right spirit? Can you break my willful plundering of all that is Yours? If I got it together again, others would follow— I could teach, guide, help—and I would!
O Lord, open my lips, that I may praise you. I know you don’t want ritual sacrifice were I to give a burnt offering you’d be exasperated. What you want is that new heart and right spirit. For this, I pray.
For Your Reflection:
What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ?
What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?
Contrition is an act of the will, not just an emotion, involving grief for past sins and a desire to regain God’s friendship. There are two types: perfect contrition, motivated by a love for God, and imperfect contrition, motivated by a fear of punishment or hatred of sin.
“Even now,” declares the LORD, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning.” Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the LORD your God Who is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, Who relents from overwhelming us.
Joel 2:12-13
“Even now…” – two of the most powerful words in scripture. Picture yourself saying them to a long-lost friend, or that friend to you. Even now – after all these years, after all you took for granted, after all your ingratitude, forgetfulness, pretense, indifference. Even now, I love and forgive you.
With the touch of sacred ashes, God reiterates that assurance to us … Even now, God waits and wants to restore us to wholeness, as in this story where you might even find yourself.
She had arranged to visit with an old college friend. They had been separated too long by the distancing choices that life often demands. She wanted to reconnect to that rare experience of shared transparency found just once or twice in a lifetime – the gift of a real friend.
They sat on a porch overlooking a gentle pond. The day was bright, the coffee hot, the chairs comfortable. But the magic was gone. Only half her friend had arrived for the cherished conversation. The other half – joy, adventure and the excess of youthful hope – had been lost. Somewhere in the intervening years, her friend had suffered a wound she did not share. This one afternoon would be too short a time to give that wound a name.
The ministry of healing requires time, whether it is to our own soul or to another’s that we bring the sweet ointment of restoration. It requires the quiet listening of a loving spirit. It requires the honest naming of wounds and the ardent desire to be made new.
As we begin our Lenten experience, God is waiting to receive us. God already knows the wounds we will bring to the conversation, already sees where our heart’s light has dimmed. God holds our half-heartedness next to his own heart and yearns to heal us.
Can we hear God’s unique invitation to us in this Lenten season? Can we confidently expose to the Divine gaze the depth of our need for grace and transformation? Can we journey with Christ, through his passion and death, to the wholeness we are called to?
Music: Parce Domine – 6th-century Latin antiphony sung here by A Capella Catholic Choir
Humility is the virtue that acknowledges our dependence on God, involves a realistic self-knowledge of both our strengths as gifts from God and our weaknesses, and restrains the desire to think more highly of ourselves than we ought. It opposes the deadly sin of pride.
Today, we honor the individuals who, in the office of President, have served the people of the United States with integrity. Some did it better than others, grounded, I think, in one indispensable virtue – humility.
Many Presidents seemed to have understood this critical virtue:
“Use power to help people. For we are given power not to advance our own purposes nor to make a great show in the world, nor a name. There is but one just use of power and it is to serve people.” ― George W. Bush
“No person was ever honored for what he received. Honor has been the reward for what he gave.” ― Calvin Coolidge
“Nobody cares how much you know, until they know how much you care.” ―Theodore Roosevelt
“It is amazing what you can accomplish if you do not care who gets the credit.” ― Harry S. Truman
“What are the things that you can’t see that are important? I would say justice, truth, humility, service, compassion, love. They’re the guiding lights of a life.” – Jimmy Carter
We may have varying political opinions about how each of these men delivered on their stated understanding. But they all executed their presidential service with honor, having accomplished something significant and generous for our country. They avoided pride and self-absorption, a deadly combination in any would-be leader—a combination that has been the downfall of several of their peers.
In a wonderful Gospel passage, Jesus confronts such budding pride in the Zebedee brothers, his apostles James and John. They lobby Jesus for premium seats in heaven. Jesus tells them that those seats come at a price they might not be willing to pay.
“You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be subservient to all.”
Illustration by Eduardo Ramón Trejo. Photos from Getty Images
Our Presidents have been called to live this kind of humble service to the nation. We thank God today for those who have answered the call well. We pray for brave women and men to answer this call in the future. May they model their service on the example of good presidents before them, and on the call of Jesus to serve God’s people in humility.
Music: Act Justly, Love Mercy, Walk Humbly – Pat Barrett
Benignity, a Fruit of the Holy Spirit, is defined as compassionate and thoughtful action toward others.
Sister Gertrude was my beautiful 3rd-grade teacher. She was kindness itself in human form, the personification of “Benignity”.
About two weeks before Valentine’s Day, Sister said we could give one another “friendship cards” by posting them to the decorated box she had set in the classroom corner. On February 14th, the box would be opened and we would learn who our best friends were, and even if we might have some secret admirers! I was really excited because I was in love with Johnny Meyers, but I didn’t think he knew I was even alive. I thought this might help me find out!
It sounds like a delightful idea, doesn’t it, until you think about the couple of kids who don’t have any friends, or the ones whose families can’t afford the cost of cards.
I didn’t think about any of those things when I was eight years old, but I do remember one curious thing. On Valentine’s Day, every child in our classroom received several cards, even Henry Walsh whom we all shunned because he was mean and selfish. Besides, he wore his hair little bit like the monster kid from “The Blob”!
Then I realized that Sister’s conversation with me a week earlier might not have been an isolated incident. Maybe she had taken aside other kids besides me and given them three or four cards. Maybe she had encouraged them too to send a card to someone it was hard to like, or to someone who might not have friends. She had told me that we don’t always know what makes a person unlikable, but that usually it wasn’t their fault. Maybe a surprise card could help them out a little bit.
So, I sent a card to a few kids I didn’t like that much. And I learned the lesson Sister was trying to teach. It was the kind of lesson that kept on teaching for the next seventy years … and still going, each year with deeper understanding.
Yeah, and here’s the funny part that I have never fully unpacked. Henry Walsh, class mini-monster, sent ME a card! Apparently, he thought I didn’t have any friends, or maybe he wasn’t too thrilled with my hairdo either!
By the way, Johnny Meyers did send a card, and I don’t think it was one Sister gave him because it came with a friendship ring out of a Cracker Jack box. We all know what that means! Even I knew, and I was only in 3rd grade!
Nevertheless, I didn’t marry Johnny despite that Valentine’s Day proposal, but I learned a life-long lesson about love from Sister Gertrude.
Music: Try a Little Kindness – Glen Campbell’s song sung by Collin Raye
Today’s news is full of impending competition – (even outside Washington 😂). Who will prevail, be the best, break the record, win the trophy?
But the opening of the Olympic Games and the start of Super Bowl weekend have me thinking about other kinds of games – the ones we play for fun, not to gain advantage.
Long ago, an older friend complained to me, “I have forgotten how to have fun!” The declaration startled me and left me speechless. If there was a formula, “young me” didn’t have it. However, over the decades of my own aging, I have pondered that remark, often examining my own life for signs of “fun diminishment”.
Those signs do seem to increase as responsibility grows or as energy wanes. What came naturally to us as children requires a little attention as we mature. As kids, we simply ran outside into the sunshine or rain, found somebody or something that absolutely entranced us, and magic happened.
I remember sitting on the front step with my friend Harry. We were both nine years old. I had just gotten a plastic camera in the mail with a quarter and a coupon from a cereal box. For an hour or so, we took pictures of pigeons perched on the telephone wires and garbage cans. We imagined ourselves expert artists creating a legacy for generations. It was easy then to forget that we were serious fourth-graders with unfinished homework, impending report cards, and a few chores before bedtime. It was also easy to forget that there was no film in the camera!
Later in life, that kind of beneficial forgetting is not so easy. We must unleash ourselves from a chain of “to dos” and “be carefuls”. We know better now. We don’t go out in the sun without screening, nor into the rain without an umbrella. We mostly try to avoid pigeons and garbage cans. Our potential “playgrounds” become much more constrained, sometimes inhibited by a false requirement of excessive money, planning, or chemical relaxation.
Examining my fun levels today, I realize how blessed I am.
My nieces, nephews, and grands live hundreds of miles away from me. Yet they provide me with invaluable links to pure fun. Every morning, a few of us play Wordl, Connections, or Crossplay together. I know they may be checking to see if I’m still alive, but the main purpose is fun – and the precious assurance of mutual care.
The younger kids delight me with photos of themselves doing modern imitations of Harry and me with the pigeons. In our convent community rooms, I may find a game of pinochle, Hand and Foot, chess, bingo, or gin rummy. Even more precious, there always awaits a conversation with memories of good times, funny stories, and the generous abandon of enjoying one another.
So, if I came up with a fun formula today, it would include these essentials:
Fun is any “playground” where we find and give joy.
To have real fun, we don’t focus on the score.
We need time to have fun, just like we need time to eat, sleep, work, and pray.
We need to know what fun is – that it makes us laugh, appreciate the other, relax, and surrender self-importance
Fun is essentially spontaneous, but we can expose ourselves to its influence by not taking ourselves too seriously.
Fun always requires getting “outside” – even if it means only from our self-centeredness.
We can have fun alone with a game or movie, but it helps to have someone to have fun with, (and as Pope Leo said, someone not created by AI.)
Lavish Mercy 