November 11, 2025
184th Anniversary of the Death of Catherine McAuley
in Our Lady of Mercy Window
BASILICA of the NATIONAL SHRINE
of the IMMACULATE CONCEPTION
Washington, DC
Fifteen years ago, as the Sisters of Mercy in Merion, Pennsylvania, prepared for the Sesquicentennial of our founding, we imagined what Catherine McAuley might write to us as we celebrated.
As we lovingly remember her today, on the anniversary of her death, perhaps you would enjoy reading the imagined letter she so graciously sent us:
Beloveds in Mercy,
I wish I could be with you in person on this special occasion, but – well, I’m sure you understand. In place of that, I hope this letter brings you the warm blessing of knowing how grateful I am to each of you.
When I was contacted to offer you a few words, I indicated that I had already been talking with all of you for quite some time. If each one of you would think, just for a moment, our first conversation will come back to you. It was the moment you realized that when you serve someone in the name of Mercy, you share the glorious and humbling call that I received so long ago. You share the work of God!
You and I may have talked in your classrooms or labs, in the crowded corridors at the change of class, or on your way home after a tiring week. We may have spoken just before a Board meeting, or in the midst of a celebration such as the one that brings us here today. Perhaps we spoke at a hospital bedside, or kneeling beside a warm street grate on a snowy night.
Our connection happened in that moment when you realized, as I did in my own life, that you loved your wards and life companions the way God loves them – wanting their good, forgiving their shortcomings, honored to be with them on life’s journey. You loved them with Mercy.
For some of you, that sacred realization came when you helped a young person recover her self-esteem. For others, it came when you listened patiently to a harried parent until he found his way back to confidence. For some of you, it was the pride you took in keeping the school beautiful, the records in order, the cafeteria churning. For some, it was the mutual support you found among your peers. For others, it was the ministry of sponsorship that you have exercised in my name for the sake of those we serve.
For many of you, it was the needy cry of the world outside a school or hospital. It was your courage to help your students and co-workers hear that cry too, and to guide them toward a merciful response. It is a call repeated to others by your witness of fidelity, justice, and charity in a tumultuous world.
How proud I am of each and every one of you! Long ago, when I still walked the streets of Dublin, I had already thought of you. It’s true! On a spring afternoon, passing by the sycamores of St. Stephen’s Green, I would imagine someone, long into the future, fired with the same passion for mercy that filled my own heart. That someone was you. Even then, when our little community was only a seedling, I knew it would endure and spread like a noble tree. I could already see its leaves shimmering with your names.
Over these nearly 200 years, I have slowly learned each of your names by heart – the thousands who have preceded you, and the thousands who will come after. You are one – and a very dear and special one – in an infinite line of compassion. You are the eternal reach of God into human need. You are the tender community of Mercy.
Today’s ritual marks a significant time in the evolution of this community. It is a time of reminiscence, gratitude, blessing, and hope. I give you my everlasting thanks for joining your heart to this mission and your courage to carry it into the future. It was God’s dream in me so long ago, and it endures because of you.
But the years also bring change, which carries its own considerations, I know. I went through many changes and challenges in my short ten years of ministry. And the changes over two centuries – oh, I can’t begin to tell you! They can bring hesitation and worry, but they also offer the opportunity for faith and creativity. As I encouraged my first Sisters long ago, “We have one solid comfort amidst this little tripping about, our hearts can always be in the same place, centered in God, for whom alone we go forward or stay back.”
My final words to you today are these: trust our Merciful God who is always with us. Your trust will bring a new grace and a new call. It is the next imagination of mercy, and you are its architects! Be faithful and be blessed. Be Mercy in the world!
And, oh my friends, will we all meet in heaven? What joy even to think of it!
Your loving sister,
Catherine
Lavish Mercy 