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.
In the Northern Hemisphere, many await the day with parched longing for sun-kissed skin, salt water, and cook-outs.
In the swirl of that longing, we may forget the real meaning of the day, a day to honor and mourn lives given in military service. Originally titled “Decoration Day”, the memorial included the practice of strewing flowers, or “decorating”, the graves of fallen soldiers.
Immediately after the tragedy of the Civil War, there was an abundance of American graves to be so decorated, and a nation deeply wounded by its internal rivalries. A striking example is the Battle of Franklin, Tennessee, a quiet town of about 2000 residents in the late 1800s. But in November 1864, in the farmers’ fallow fields, 10,000 Americans were wounded by one another, and 2300 died. Even if every resident buried a soldier, there would not have been enough grave diggers!
Confederate soldiers killed in the Battle of Franklin were buried on a two-acre plot of land at the Carnton Plantation donated by the McGavock family. “Widow of the South” Carrie McGavock cared for the cemetery for the rest of her life. Photograph courtesy of the Battle of Franklin Trust
Practical healing was sorely needed. In that hope, Memorial Day was formalized by an order issued by Grand Army of the Republic Commander-in-Chief John A. Logan in 1868. It has been observed ever since to honor those sacrificed to our continuing obsession with war.
Despite the happiness of approaching summer, I find Memorial Day heartbreaking. How profoundly sad that men, women, and children die, even now, in the wreckage of war when the human mind is capable of designing peace.
Each evening, somewhere between the Nightly News and Jeopardy, ads pop up for organizations like Wounded Warriors or Second Chance. The images of young men and women – their broken bodies, minds, and dreams – overwhelm me with a turbulent mix of pity and anger.
Ask yourself: Where do they get the guns?
The human family can change this! To do so would be a truly reverent way to honor our fallen and wounded heroes. World leaders could initiate the dismantling of systems that feed war, and reinforce efforts to establish global agreements for sustained peace. It is each of our responsibilities to demand this of our leaders and of ourselves.
To begin, we must ask ourselves these questions, determining where we fit in the answers:
Who benefits from war?
Who enriches themselves by its machinery?
Who retains power and wealth by appeasing warmongers?
Who pays the greatest price for war, and why are we willing to dehumanize and sacrifice them?
How does the rhetoric of force, retribution, and domination feed the avaricious fears of tyrants and their sycophants? How does such language affect me?
How do my own language, advocacy, and voting patterns reflect my understanding of war and commitment to peace?
Each Memorial Day, each Veterans Day, I do indeed honor our heroes. There are beloved members of my family and friends among them who have been willing to stand in harm’s way for my sake. Still, at a deeper level, I pray that war may recede to an ancient memory and not another name be added to its lamentable honor rolls.
On this sacred day, let us pray with the encouragement offered by Pope Leo on the 2026 World Day of Peace:
Dear brothers and sisters, whether we have the gift of faith or feel we lack it, let us open ourselves to peace! Let us welcome it and recognize it, rather than believing it to be impossible and beyond our reach. Peace is more than just a goal; it is a presence and a journey. Even when it is endangered within us and around us, like a small flame threatened by a storm, we must protect it, never forgetting the names and stories of those who have borne witness to it. Peace is a principle that guides and defines our choices. Even in places where only rubble remains, and despair seems inevitable, we still find people who have not forgotten peace. Just as on the evening of Easter Jesus entered the place where his disciples were gathered in fear and discouragement, so too the peace of the risen Christ continues to pass through doors and barriers in the voices and faces of his witnesses. This gift enables us to remember goodness, to recognize it as victorious, to choose it again, and to do so together.
Music: Where Have All the Flowers Gone – Peter, Paul, and Mary
These reflections during Eastertide 2026 are reblogs from 2023 and 2020.
Our readings for those years were the same as this year’s, and some of the thoughts might be worth rethinking. I hope my long-timers enjoy them a second time, and that my new-timers appreciate a trip back in time. I thank all of you for journeying with me on Lavish Mercy.
Today, we celebrate Pentecost, the great Solemnity of the Holy Spirit.
As I prepare this reflection, I recall a small incident from more than a half-century ago. My Sunday morning charge was to teach the weekly Confirmation class to eight and nine-year-olds. Their charge was to have studied their preparatory catechism throughout the intervening week. Neither of us was good at these charges, yet we both persevered.
Confident that every youngster would have equal knowledge to Thomas Aquinas, I called little Mary Beth to my side one Sunday and asked her, “Who is the Holy Spirit?” In beautiful innocence, she responded, “I’m not sure, but I think it’s some kind of a bird.”
The Holy Spirit’s Descent at Jesus’ Baptism
Having been heavily influenced by religious illustrations, no one in the class chuckled – including me, because I was then, and am still now, unable to define the Holy Spirit. And I hope I stay that way.
The “spirit” of anything is impossible to define fully. “Spirit” has to be felt and lived in order to be made manifest. Trust me. Just try to define the “spirit” of your family, neighborhood, workplace, or team in 4000 words or fewer, as Aquinas attempted to define the Holy Spirit! (See Summa Theologiae, First Part, Section 36: https://www.newadvent.org/summa/1036.htm
When I think of the Holy Spirit, I think of Her as Divine Poetry, that inexpressible Presence that invisibly generates all life and truth – a Presence released in one’s life only by a full entrustment to faith, hope, and love – the gift of the sacrament of Confirmation.
Like poetry, relationship with the Holy Spirit changes one’s perception of reality. We see that, as with an iceberg, much of truth is hidden beneath life’s surface. The Holy Spirit allows us see with God’s eyes and God’s hope for the world. The “ordinary” becomes “gracefully extraordinary”. The new vision impels us to act as God would act in the world.
Percy Bysshe Shelley said this about poetry, and I think it holds for the Spirit as well:
“Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.”
For me, a good way to pray with the Holy Spirit is to relish, line by line, the beautiful Pentecost Sequence. Find a phrase within the Sequence that most touches your heart and soul at this particular time in your life. Let go of definitions and invite that phrase to bless you with the Holy Spirit’s Love.
Come, O Holy Spirit, come! From Your bright and blissful Home Rays of healing light impart
Come, Defender of the poor Source of gifts that will endure Light of ev’ry human heart
You of all consolers best Of the soul most kindly Guest Quick’ning courage do bestow
In hard labor You are rest In the heat You do refresh And solace give in our woe
O most blessed Light divine Let Your radiance in us shine And our inmost being fill
Nothing good by man is thought Nothing right by him is wrought When he spurns Your gracious Will
Cleanse our souls from sinful stain Lave our dryness with Your rain Heal our wounds and mend our way
Bend the stubborn heart and will Melt the frozen, warm the chill Guide the steps that go astray
On the faithful who in Thee Trust with childlike piety Deign Your sevenfold gift to send
Give them virtue’s rich increase Saving grace to die in peace Give them joys that never end Amen. Alleluia
Music: The Pentecost Sequence, sung by the Church of the Holy Family in Katong, Singapore
These reflections during Eastertide 2026 are reblogs from 2023 and 2020.
Our readings for those years were the same as this year’s, and some of the thoughts might be worth rethinking. I hope my long-timers enjoy them a second time, and that my new-timers appreciate a trip back in time. I thank all of you for journeying with me on Lavish Mercy.
In this 2023 reblog, Friday of the Seventh Week of Easter fell on the Memorial of St. Philip Neri. That is not the case in 2026, so please ignore that reference.
These reflections during Eastertide 2026 are reblogs from 2023 and 2020.
Our readings for those years were the same as this year’s, and some of the thoughts might be worth rethinking. I hope my long-timers enjoy them a second time, and that my new-timers appreciate a trip back in time. I thank all of you for journeying with me on Lavish Mercy.
These reflections during Eastertide 2026 are reblogs from 2023 and 2020.
Our readings for those years were the same as this year’s, and some of the thoughts might be worth rethinking. I hope my long-timers enjoy them a second time, and that my new-timers appreciate a trip back in time. I thank all of you for journeying with me on Lavish Mercy.
These reflections during Eastertide 2026 are reblogs from 2023 and 2020.
Our readings for those years were the same as this year’s, and some of the thoughts might be worth rethinking. I hope my long-timers enjoy them a second time, and that my new-timers appreciate a trip back in time. I thank all of you for journeying with me on Lavish Mercy.
These reflections during Eastertide 2026 are reblogs from 2023 and 2020.
Our readings for those years were the same as this year’s, and some of the thoughts might be worth rethinking. I hope my long-timers enjoy them a second time, and that my new-timers appreciate a trip back in time. I thank all of you for journeying with me on Lavish Mercy.
These reflections during Eastertide 2026 are reblogs from 2023 and 2020.
Our readings for those years were the same as this year’s, and some of the thoughts might be worth rethinking. I hope my long-timers enjoy them a second time, and that my new-timers appreciate a trip back in time. I thank all of you for journeying with me on Lavish Mercy.
These reflections during Eastertide 2026 are reblogs from 2023 and 2020.
Our readings for those years were the same as this year’s, and some of the thoughts might be worth rethinking. I hope my long-timers enjoy them a second time, and that my new-timers appreciate a trip back in time. I thank all of you for journeying with me on Lavish Mercy.
Lavish Mercy 