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.
Memorial of Saints Martha, Mary, and Lazarus July 29, 2026
Today, we pray with three fascinating friends of Jesus: Martha, Mary, and Lazarus. Let’s shake them out of the Bible today and let them live in our imaginations.
The three are usually named in the above order, inviting us to imagine Lazarus as the younger brother of two unmarried older sisters.
Martha, likely the oldest, is the most practical. Mary, the middle sister, is the romantic, wrapped in tales of perfumed hair, contemplative sitting, and tearful pleading. Lazarus, who has little to say in scripture, actually looms large in their story!
Thinking about the Bethany trio today, I remember a similar family from my childhood neighborhood. Helen, Agnes, and Mickey O’Rourke were amazingly like the Bethany Sibs in many ways.
Helen, the oldest, had become a young and childless widow many years before I knew the family. By the 1950s, she was elderly, but still meticulously kept the home while the younger two worked.
Agnes was about a decade younger and had a long career as a Bell Tell operator. She once spoke of wanting to become a Pink Sister, one of the Holy Spirit Adoration Sisters whose monastery stood not far from our neighborhood.
Mickey, in his 40s, was a police officer who was known to enjoy his bachelorhood.
The O’Rourkes were devoted to one another. When Agnes was widowed, the other two assumed loving responsibility for her. In turn, Agnes, always the most vigilant and practical of the three, undertook responsibility for their guidance.
The three kept a hospitable home where neighbors enjoyed their easy camaraderie and delightful Irish wit. They shared a happy, supportive, and generous life.
Then Mickey was shot and killed by a drunken reveler on New Year’s Eve.
Think about the devastation in his sisters’ hearts. Think about the deadly silence that fell upon their joyful home. Think about their neighbors’ fumbling efforts to offer help or hope.
It was into a grief like this that Jesus arrived one ancient afternoon in Bethany. Read about it in John, chapter 11.
This story offers so many points for meditation and prayer. You know where your heart softened at the story of the O’Rourkes. Maybe that is where your prayer should rest today as you ponder the Bethany family.
Did Helen’s early widowhood touch your heart — her possible loneliness, blessedly softened only by the love of her siblings? Then pray with Martha.
Did Agnes’s quiet self-sacrifice move you — setting aside religious life to sustain her family? Then pray with Mary.
Did Mickey’s sudden death awaken memories of your own losses? Then pray with Lazarus.
Was it the shock and sadness of those who so helplessly wanted to heal the hurtful situation? Then pray with the unnamed neighbors whose remarks pepper the bible account.
But give these first prayers only short attention. Let your real meditation engage your feelings when you hear the words, “Lazarus, come forth!”, and you see the funeral bindings start to fall! Is there something dead in you that longs to rise again?
The O’Rourke sisters did not have their brother restored in the way that Lazarus was restored. But finally, their deep faith did revive their joy and unshakeable trust that they would all meet again in God’s time.
All these very real people offer us encouragement for our own faith and spiritual resilience. Why not spend some time with them?
Of the many techniques an artist might use in painting, among the most alluring is Sfumato.
Sfumato refers to a painting technique that blends one tone into another rather than using a clear outline. The word derives from the Italian sfumare, meaning “to evaporate,” and is related to the Italian word for smoke (fumo). Like smoke, a form rendered in sfumato tends to evaporate or disappear into the air surrounding it. Leonardo da Vinci used the term to describe how the edges of the Mona Lisa seem to blend into the surrounding shadows. (from merriam-webster.com)
Today is the Feast of St. Mary Magdalen, a woman painted in sfumato across salvation history’s canvas.
She is mentioned by name fourteen times in the New Testament across all four Gospels. She is explicitly identified as a key follower of Jesus who supported his ministry, witnessed his crucifixion, visited the empty tomb, was the first to see the risen Christ, and to proclaim the Resurrection.
Nevertheless, other than her hometown of Magdala, the outlines of Mary’s life remain mysterious. Who were her parents, her siblings? Was she married? Who were her friends?
We know about Peter. He was married, had a mother-in-law, and was a fisherman from a family of fishermen.
We know about the feisty brothers, John and James. Their father was Zebedee, their mother Salome. They were “the Sons of Thunder”.
We know that Andrew, Philip, and Nathaniel were neighborhood friends.
But we have no such scriptural colors to paint our picture of Mary Magdalen.
What we know about Mary is her passion for God, a passion that allowed her to be released from seven devils and to radically bond her heart to the heart of Jesus.
Yes, the “seven devils”, those undefined spiritual hindrances that caused Pope Gregory to mistakenly connect Mary to the sinful woman of Luke, chapter 7.
The number seven is interesting, and might lead one to consider the seven deadly sins against which we all struggle in our lives: pride, envy, wrath, gluttony, lust, sloth, and greed. Might it be that Mary, so captured by the sacred magnetism of Jesus, was freed of these inclinations and sanctified in a unique way for the Gospel mission? Might it be that this “ultra-Baptism” prepared her to be the Apostle to the Apostles, first witness and proclaimer of the Resurrection?
Albert Edelfelt
As I pray with Mary Magdalen today, I remember a quote once shared with me. It is the response of an octogenarian nun when asked about her spiritual life:
I am in Love now. I have entered the Fire. I am one with the Flame.
She seems to have perfectly described the “spiritual Sfumato” for which Mary Magdalen is an inspiring icon.
Poem: The Magdalen, a Garden and This by Kathleen O’Toole
She who is known by myth and association as sinful, penitent, voluptuous perhaps… but faithful to the last and then beyond.
A disciple for sure, confused often with Mary, sister of Lazarus, or the woman caught in adultery, or she who angered the men
by anointing Jesus with expensive oils. She was the one from whom he cast out seven demons—she’s named in that account.
Strip all else away and we know only that she was grateful, that she found her way to the cross, and that she returned
to the tomb, to the garden nearby, and there, weeping at her loss, was recognized, became known in the tender invocation
of her name. Mary: breathed by one whom she mistook for the gardener, he who in an instant brought her back to herself—
gave her in two syllables a life beloved, gave me the only sure thing I’ll believe of heaven, that if it be, it will consist
in this: the one unmistakable rendering of your name.
Music: You Know My Name – by The Holy Studio (lyrics below)
I sit in rooms Where no one asks How long I’ve stayed Behind the glass My hands grow tired My voice grows thin I wonder if You’ve noticed me
I don’t have to be loud To be known I don’t have to prove I’m here
You know my name You know my name Before I speak Before I break You know my name I don’t have to earn Your gaze You see me whole You know my name
The world moves fast It doesn’t wait For tired bones Or quiet faith I scroll through faces None are mine I set the table Just for one
I am not invisible To You I am not strange For feeling small
You know my name You know my name Not for the things That I have done But for the way You chose to stay You see my face You know my name
And every night I wasn’t seen You were the one Still watching me Every word I didn’t say You heard them all You know my name You know my name You know my name
You know my name You know my name I don’t have to be Interesting to be kept I don’t have to shine To be held You called me Yours Before I knew You know my name That is enough
Today we celebrate the feast of Saint Benedict of Nursia — a man who lived nearly fifteen centuries ago, yet whose wisdom still challenges the confusion of modern life.
Benedict’s enduring gift to the world is a slender text known as The Rule of St. Benedict, written around 530 A.D. for monks living together in community. Though simple in structure, the Rule offers a balanced vision of human fulfillment: a life grounded in prayer, meaningful work, lifelong learning, and mutual responsibility.
St. Benedict delivering rule to monks
What Benedict created for monasteries ultimately became much more than a guide for monks. Across centuries, his wisdom has influenced education, leadership, hospitality, peacemaking, and the very idea that a good life requires both inner discipline and communal care.
Recently, while reading online, I encountered two unfamiliar terms: “looksmaxxing” and “incels.” Curious, I searched for their meaning.
Looksmaxxing (or looksmaxing) refers to the practice of maximizing one’s physical attractiveness. Originating in online forums and popularized on platforms like TikTok, it ranges from benign self-care like skincare routines to extreme, potentially dangerous cosmetic procedures.
The phrase “incel”, meaning “involuntary celibate”, was originally coined in the late 1990s by a Canadian student known as “Alana” as an inclusive, supportive space for anyone of any gender who was lonely or struggling to find a relationship. However, over the 2000s and 2010s, the term was heavily co-opted by online communities and transformed into a specific, male-dominated subculture characterized by misogyny and entitlement.
What I discovered was troubling — because so many young people are searching for identity and belonging in places that deepen anxiety rather than heal it.
Social media has amplified movements built upon appearance, resentment, isolation, and comparison. In many ways, these trends seem to reject the very foundations Benedict considered essential for a meaningful life: prayer that grounds us, work that dignifies us, learning that enlarges us, and community that humanizes us.
The sadness beneath these movements points to something deeper: a profound spiritual hunger.
Benedict matters even today, and perhaps more than ever.
His Rule invites us away from obsession with self and toward a deeper freedom rooted in humility, balance, and love. Benedict outlined what he called the “Twelve Degrees of Humility,” a spiritual path intended to loosen the grip of self-absorption and open the heart to God and others.
Because some of Benedict’s original language reflects the harshness of his historical era, I have taken the liberty of expressing these tenets in more contemporary and life-giving terms while preserving their essential wisdom.
Benedict’s Original Emphasis
A Contemporary Spiritual Reading
Fear of God
Awe before God: delighting in the beauty of Creation
Restraint of Self-will
Flexibility: meeting life with generosity and openness
Obedience
Wisdom-seeking: learning from the insight of others
Patient endurance
CourageousTrust: Knowing that God abides with us always
Confession of faults
Repentance: Honest and positive change
Contentment with little
Living from abundance rather than endless desire or greed
Self-abasement
Humility: recognizing the equal dignity of every person
Observance of the Rule
Discipline: commitment to healthy spiritual routine
Silence
Serenity: allowing peace to shape our interactions
Avoiding frivolity
Maturity: growing in depth, honesty, and joy
Gentle speech
Reverence: Using words to bless rather than diminish
Physical humility
Simplicity: recognizing that authenticity surpasses display
In the end, Benedict’s wisdom is not about becoming less human, but more fully human. His Rule reminds us that meaning is rarely found in self-obsession, status, or performance. Rather, it emerges slowly through prayer, purposeful work, humility, simplicity, and life shared with others.
In an age marked by loneliness, noise, and relentless comparison, Benedict still offers a quiet but compelling invitation: live deliberately, live gently, and live together in love
Poem: The Neophyte by Alice Meynell
(I love this poem for what it expresses about the early commitment to a disciplined spiritual life, intended to bless us by making us blessedly human.)
Who knows what days I answer for to-day: Giving the bud I give the flower. I bow This yet unfaded and a faded brow; Bending these knees and feeble knees, I pray.
Thoughts yet unripe in me I bend one way, Give one repose to pain I know not now, One leaven to joy that comes, I guess not how. I dedicate my fields when Spring is grey.
Oh, rash! (I smile) to pledge my hidden wheat. I fold to-day at altars far apart Hands trembling with what toils? In their retreat I seal my love to-be, my folded art. I light the tapers at my head and feet, And lay the crucifix on this silent heart.
On this glorious Independence Day, the United States marks its 250th birthday. Such an anniversary invites celebration, certainly — fireworks, parades, songs, patriotic speeches, and a good old-fashioned baseball game.
But the celebration also invites a question: What birthday gift could we possibly offer our country to foster its future blessings and to ensure its deserved endurance?
Most of us are familiar with the word “sabbatical” which comes from the Hebrew shabbāth: to cease, or to pause. A sabbatical is a time to rest after long contribution, to replenish oneself for the continuing journey. It is a time to herald all that has succeeded, and to find the courage for all that must change. Our 250th anniversary prompts us to consider such a powerful and reflective pause and to act on its fruits.
For a country, as well as for each citizen, complexity and demand can accumulate over time, draining both our physical and spiritual resources. Sabbatical is a time of rediscovery, remembering, and renovation. In many ways, it is also a time of repentance. Might a 250th sabbatical move us to acknowledge the damaging self-interests, to quiet the divisive rhetoric, and to reclaim mutual trust based on respectful honesty and compassionate justice?
We, the people, are capable of such courage. We inherited it from the patriots who pledged “their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor” in 1776. We have seen it in generations of immigrants who arrived with hope stronger than fear; in pioneers and laborers who built difficult lives from nothing but their dreams. We have been inspired to it by self-sacrificing parents, caring communities, and altruistic peace-seekers.
And we have been held to its account by Native Peoples and formerly enslaved persons who would not excuse America’s failures nor allow it to rest comfortably inside its contradictions.
Sitting Bull was known for embodying the Lakota virtues of bravery, fortitude, generosity, and wisdom. He remains an enduring figure of pride, honored for his defense of Indigenous rights and his efforts to maintain a traditional way of life. (Wiki)
Sojourner Truth was an American abolitionist and activist for African-American civil rights, women’s rights. MissTruth was born into slavery but escaped with her infant daughter to freedom in 1826. After going to court to recover her son in 1828, she became the first black woman to win such a case against a white man. (Wiki)
Perhaps the gift we can give America and ourselves is a time to step back from who we have become – to examine and measure ourselves against who we first wanted to be – to bless all that has been good – to reclaim all that has wandered from our first hope.
Where shall we find the inspiration for such renewal?
Recently, Pope Leo XIV referred to the Blessed Virgin Mary as “an icon of hope.” Under the title of the Immaculate Conception, Mary has long been patroness of the United States, a designation formally entrusted by the American bishops in 1846. Mary is indeed the icon who shows us the compelling power of a heart centered on truth, humility, trust, courage, and mercy.
As people of faith and hope, we are being called again to place this nation consciously within her care.
America’s first centuries have been marked by striving, expansion, and increasing geopolitical influence. This Semiquincentennial calls us to a deeper, humbler appreciation of our responsibility to actualize these words for all our sisters and brothers:
We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness…
On this auspicious Independence Day, let us commit to prayer for our beloved country and for the rededication of its strength, integrity, and moral witness within the world community.
(For my dear readers from countries other than the United States, please keep us in your prayers.)
June 29, 2026 Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles
St. Paul’s in RomeSt Peters Basilica in Rome
Peter and Paul – names that embody the foundation of Catholic magisterium, those who offered initial inspiration and counsel to the early life of the Gospel. The celebration of their feast today engenders deep reflection on the themes of faith, and of authority and tradition in the Church.
That reflection is intended to give believers confidence in all that the Apostles’ Creed proclaims: the Trinity, Incarnation, Paschal Mystery, Baptismal Salvation, and Eternal Life – and of its pristine transmission through the millennia.
Over the course of 2000 years, this confidence has been enshrined in cathedrals and encyclicals, in the declaration of saints and the condemnation of heretics. It has been studied in Scripture and edited in the candlelit scriptoria of the Middle Ages.
It is a living confidence that ever struggles against the mumification of theological reactionaries and misspellings of semi-literate interpreters. It is a confidence that, while hallowed and foundational, bears the taint of uncontested patriarchy and obdurate dogmatism.
For some of us, particularly women, who deeply love the Church, today’s feast can be a source of discomforting reflection.
What if the deposit of faith had been predominantly sourced and interpreted, not only through men like Peter and Paul, but through the experience of Mary, Mother of Jesus and First of the Apostles? Or of Mary Magdalen, Apostle to the Apostles on Easter morning?
What if the women who quietly nurtured the work of the Gospel, who gathered and sustained the churches of the first Christian millennium, had not had their insights disappear in a flood of masculine ink?
What if another four evangelists had been Mary, Mary Magdalen, the woman at the Well and the deacon Phoebe?
What if rampant patriarchy had not been inextricably threaded through Catholic tradition?
How would the Church be different today if any of those things had happened?
Of course, they didn’t happen. But how would the Church be different today if those who held influence had included these testimonies? What if Peter and Paul had demanded that the only true apostolic succession came through Peter, Paul, … and Mary?
Hats off to the great Saints Peter and Paul! And wistful hearts raised to our “Marys”!
Music: What Wondrous Thing – Jann Aldredge Clanton
What wondrous thing is happening here where minds and souls are opening? The scales fall off our blinded eyes; new sight arouses hoping.
A new thing springs forth on the earth with blessing, hope, and healing; the power of woman saves all life, Sophia-Christ revealing.
Epiphany surrounds us now, as we reclaim our wholeness; Sophia-Christ within us all inspires us with new boldness.
Refrain: Look, look, for She is here; Her wisdom words have long been near. Now, now, behold Her grace, Divinity in Her image.
La luz de la fe nos guía y nos sostiene a lo largo de las etapas de nuestra vida.
A mediados de junio de 2015, el querido Papa Francisco publicó su encíclica emblemática, «Laudato Si’». El documento, erudito y práctico, transmite la voz del Espíritu Santo. Más que informativo, es transformador en su capacidad de despertar, inspirar, cambiar y confirmar a quienes oran con él.
Al haberse publicado tan cerca del solsticio de junio, la carta también encarna la voz de la Tierra, que nos llama a hacer una pausa, reflexionar y elegir de manera informada y reverente. Toda la Creación sabe practicar esta pausa respetuosa. Lo hace cada año en sus retiros semestrales conocidos como «solsticio» y «equinoccio».
Hoy, solsticio de junio de 2026, nos invita a hacer lo mismo. Les ofrezco dos bendiciones para elegir, según su hemisferio. Que este día sagrado nos traiga a todos las bendiciones de amor que el Papa Francisco anhelaba con tanto fervor:
Todo el universo material habla del amor de Dios, de su cariño infinito por nosotros. La tierra, el agua, las montañas: todo es, por así decirlo, una caricia de Dios.
Laudatory Si’: 84
Music: Winter by Antonio Vivaldi (arr. Sergio Ercole)
In mid-June 2015, beloved Pope Francis published his landmark encyclical, “Laudato Si”. The document, erudite and practical, carries the voice of the Holy Spirit. More than informative, it is transformative in its power to awaken, inspire, change, and confirm those who pray with it.
Published so close to the June solstice, the letter also embodies Earth’s voice, calling us to pause, reflect, and choose in an informed and reverent manner. All Creation knows how to practice such a deferent pause. It does so every year in its semi-annual retreats known as “solstice” and “equinox”. Today, June Solstice 2026, invites us to do the same.
I offer you two blessings to choose from, depending on your hemisphere. May this sacred day bring all of us the blessings of love Pope Francis so earnestly hoped for:
“The entire material universe speaks of God’s love, his boundless affection for us. Soil, water, mountains: everything is, as it were, a caress of God.”
Laudato Si’: 84
Music: Summer by Vivaldi (Guitar) arr. Sergio Ercole
Like me, some of you may have thought that the Emancipation Proclamation was a “one-and-done” event. It wasn’t, and it isn’t. Like its companions in American history ( the Constitution,the Bill of Rights), the document – and its dynamism – is a complex living reality that, even now, continues to unfold among us.
The Emancipation Declaration was first issued on January 1, 1863, freeing enslaved African Americans in the Confederate States. There were many states, notably some in the North, to which the new law did not immediately apply (border states of Delaware and Kentucky). However, the 13th Amendment, ratified on December 6, 1865, made slavery universally unconstitutional throughout the United States.
During the intervening time period, enforcement of the new law rolled out slowly through the post-Confederate South, especially in far western regions like Galveston, Texas. It was not until June 19th, two years later, that freedom reached that resistant enclave:
On the morning of June 19, 1865, Union Major General Gordon Granger arrived on the island of Galveston to take command of the more than 2,000 federal troops recently landed in the department of Texas to enforce the emancipation of its enslaved population and oversee Reconstruction, nullifying all laws passed within Texas during the war by Confederate lawmakers. The order informed all Texans that, in accordance with a Proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all enslaved people were free. (Wikipedia)
Wanting to learn more about the Juneteenth holiday, I purchased a beautifully illustrated children’s book, Opal Lee and What It Means to Be Free. I wanted to share it with my grand-nephews and niece when they visit because this history belongs to all of us. We all need to learn from it.
Ms. Lee, who is approaching her 100th birthday in October, has suffered personally from racist terrorists. She grew up in Texas, where her family’s home was burned down by white rioters when she was twelve years old. Resilient and brave, she eventually pursued an extensive education and became a teacher, community leader, and activist. She lobbied particularly for the recognition of Juneteenth as a Holiday, believing it was crucial to the story of African American freedom.
President Joe Biden talks with Opal Lee after signing the Juneteenth National Independence Day Act Bill, Thursday, June 17, 2021, in the East Room of the White House. (Official White House Photo by Chandler West)
In June 2021, at the age of 94, her efforts succeeded as a bill to make Juneteenth a federal holiday was passed by Congress and signed into law by President Joe Biden. She was an honored guest at the bill signing ceremony, receiving the first of many pens the President used to sign the document. As she sat in the front row, she received a standing ovation, and President Biden got down on one knee to greet her. (Wikipedia)
Music: Lift Every Voice and Sing (The Black National Anthem) – sung by Wintley Phipps
Lavish Mercy 