Sister Renee Yann, RSM, D.Min, is a writer and speaker on topics of spirituality, mission, and ethical business practice. After twenty years in teaching and social justice ministry, she served for over thirty years in various mission-related roles in Mercy Health System of Southeastern Pennsylvania.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 89 as we celebrate the feast of St. Joseph.
Joseph is a beloved figure despite that we know him only in outlines. So little is said about him in scripture, yet we draw our sentiments from how he treated Mary and Jesus. Through their relationships, we imagine a man who was spiritual, thoughtful, faithful, gentle and wise. These conclusions have generated an immense devotion to Joseph over the centuries, one that I share. He is my go-to-guy in prayer when discerning and faithful wisdom is needed.
Example of a Prayer to St. Joseph
But, beyond devotion, our psalm today reminds us of Joseph’s true and clear significance in salvation history. It was through his house that God’s promise to David was finally fulfilled.
The promises of the LORD I will sing forever; through all generations my mouth shall proclaim your faithfulness, For you have said, “My kindness is established forever”; in heaven you have confirmed your faithfulness.
Psalm 89: 2-3
The person and life of Joseph is a lived confirmation of God’s faithfulness expressed centuries before in the psalmist’s hopeful proclamation:
I have made a covenant with my chosen one, I have sworn to David my servant: Forever will I confirm your posterity and establish your throne for all generations.
Psalm 89: 4-5
Joseph was, as Paul describes in our second reading, a witness to “the righteousness that comes from faith.” In other words, it is only because Joseph believed and lived out of his belief that God’s Promise was fulfilled in him and in the world he knew.
This is the deep lesson Joseph offers us, even beyond the stretch of our devotions. By faithful righteousness, Joseph – with Mary – became the new “House of Promise”. From that house, the New Covenant in Christ was fulfilled for all of us.
Let us pray to Joseph today to be filled with our own measure of justice that comes from faith, and to act on it in the world that God has given us.
Poetry: O Sapientia – by Madeleine L’Engle
It was from Joseph first I learned
of love. Like me he was dismayed.
How easily he could have turned
me from his house; but, unafraid,
he put me not away from him
(O God-sent angel, pray for him).
Thus through his love was Love obeyed.
The Child’s first cry came like a bell:
God’s Word aloud, God’s Word in deed.
The angel spoke: so it befell,
and Joseph with me in my need.
O Child whose father came from heaven,
to you another gift was given,
your earthly father chosen well.
With Joseph I was always warmed
and cherished. Even in the stable
I knew that I would not be harmed.
And, though above the angels swarmed,
man’s love it was that made me able
to bear God’s love, wild, formidable,
to bear God’s will, through me performed.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 106 which, together with our other readings, focuses on the image of Moses – both the original Moses and the “New Moses” who is Jesus Christ.
Both figures led their people from slavery to freedom. Both help their people be “re-membered” – their broken pieces gathered back and the Body “remembered” – made whole again.
In Psalm 106, the psalmist speaks for a repentant community which recognizes that, time and again, God has met their sinfulness with mercy. God has made them whole again after their fracturing infidelities.
Their grateful and confident prayer grows from this sacred remembering. It teaches them not to be like their forefathers who worshipped the golden calf in place of the one, true God:
They forgot the God who had saved them…
Psalm 106: 21
We, too, sometimes “forget” God’s central place in our lives. Some very frivolous “golden calves” take over our love and attention. Money, fame, power, image – they all can take the pedestal on occasion.
And maybe the worst idol we can enthrone is ourselves – the all-consuming power of self-absorption that breaks us off from both God and the community.
Today with Psalm 106, we humbly pray to be “re-membered” – “Confitemini, Domino”
Give thanks to the LORD, who is good,
whose mercy endures forever.
Who can recount the mighty deeds of the LORD,
proclaim in full God’s praise?
Blessed those who do what is right,
whose deeds are always just.
Remember me, LORD, as you favor your people;
come to me with your saving help,
That I may see the prosperity of your chosen ones,
rejoice in the joy of your people,
and glory with your heritage.
Poetry: THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY by Rachel Barenblat who writes a great blog called The Velveteen Rabbi
Already so many changes. Our long column of refugees snaking into the wilderness. Through the sandal-sucking mud where the waters had been. Their men and horses consumed. And then that Voice speaking directly into us, reverberating in our chests...! But Moshe ascended by himself into the sapphire sky and he didn't come back. Of course we asked Aharon to make something to remind us we weren't as alone as we felt.
Music: Le Veau d’Or (The Golden Calf) by Faust from the opera Mephistopheles, Act II
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 145, a hymn of exuberant and confident gratitude to an infinitely generous God.
The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and of great kindness. The LORD is good to all and compassionate toward all his works.
Psalm 145: 8-9
It’s a good psalm for this St. Patrick’s Day. Even though the liturgy stays with the Lenten Mass, today the Irish are praying with their patron Saint.
So when we read the following psalm verse, we think of the witness of our ancestors who suffered for and remained steadfast in the Faith:
The LORD is faithful in all his words and holy in all his works. The LORD lifts up all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down.
Psalm 145: 13-14
Nana (Ellen)
With an unquestioning allegiance, they transmitted that faith to the next generations. My great-grandmother was such a transmitter. Sixteen years old in 1884, she came alone to the U.S. carrying the thick Londonderry accent that made it hard for me to fully understand her.
When I was still a toddler, Nana would call me to her side to teach me the Hail Mary. I was resistant, wanting to wear the rosary for a necklace instead. But my mother told me that nevertheless, for my very young night prayers, I would repeat the prayer’s phrases with an evident Irish accent.
Of course, the accent did not remain. And Nana, although she lived until she was 83, slipped into dementia in her later years. But Ellen McGone’s mark on my spirit abides. It was burnished by her children, my grandmother and especially my granduncles. They chose to transmit the heritage by songs sung at every family gathering to the accompaniment of harmonica, pipe whistle, and a small squeezebox. Of course, they didn’t sound like the great John McCormack. But they thought they did, and so did I!
Happy Saint Paddy’s Day
CHORUS
When Irish Eyes are Smiling sure it’s like a morn in spring In the lilt of Irish laughter you can hear the angels sing when Irish hearts are happy all the world seems bright and gay but when Irish eyes are smiling sure they’ll steal your heart away
There’s a tear in your eye and I’m wondering why that it ever should be there at all with such power in your smile sure a stone you’d beguile and there’s never a teardrop should fall
when your sweet lilting laughter’s like some fairy song and your eyes sparkle bright as can be Oh then laugh all the while and all other times smile and then smile a smile for me
For your smile is a part of the love in your heart, And it makes even sunshine more bright. Like the linnet’s sweet song, crooning all the day long, Comes your laughter and light for the springtime of life Is the sweetest of all There is ne’er a real care or regret; and while springtime is ours Throughout all of youth’s hours, let us smile each chance we get.
On this feast of the great and glorious St. Patrick, we might – no matter our heritage – want to pray with and for our treasured forbears who have nurtured in us the gifts of love, faith and heritage:
Great is the LORD and worthy of much praise, whose grandeur is beyond understanding.
One generation praises your deeds to the next and proclaims your mighty works.
They speak of the splendor of your majestic glory, tell of your wonderful deeds.
They speak of the power of your awesome acts and recount your great deeds.
They celebrate your abounding goodness and joyfully sing of your justice.
The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in mercy.
Psalm 145: 4-8
Poetry: Songs of Our Land by Frances Brown
Songs of our land, ye are with us for ever,
The power and the splendor of thrones pass away;
But yours is the might of some far flowing river.
Through Summer's bright roses or Autumn's decay.
Ye treasure each voice of the swift passing ages,
And truth which time writeth on leaves or on sand;
Ye bring us the thoughs of poets and sages,
And keep them among us, old songs of our land.
The bards may go down to the place of their slumbers,
The lyre of the charmer be hushed in the grave,
But far in the future the power of their numbers
Shall kindle the hearts of our faithful and brave,
It will waken an echo in souls deep and lonely,
Like voices of reeds by the summer breeze fanned;
It will call up a spirit for freedom, when only
Her breathings are heard in the songs of our land.
For they keep a record of those, the true-hearted,
Who fell with the cause they had vowed to maintain;
They show us bright shadows of glory departed,
Of love that grew cold and hope that was vain.
The page may be lost and the pen long forsaken,
And weeds may grow wild o'er the brave heart and hand;
But ye are still left when all else hath been taken,
Like streams in the desert, sweet songs of our land.
Songs of our land, ye have followed the stranger,
With power over ocean and desert afar,
Ye have gone with our wanderers through distance and danger,
And gladdened their path like a homeguiding star.
With the breath of our mountains in summers long vanished,
And visions that passed like a wave from the sand,
With hope for their country and joy from her banished.
Ye come to us ever, sweet songs of our land.
The spring time may come with the song of our glory,
To bid the green heart of the forest rejoice,
But the pine of the mountain though blasted and hoary,
And the rock in the desert, can send forth a voice,
It was thus in their triumph for deep desolations,
While ocean waves roll or the mountains shall stand,
Still hearts that are bravest and best of the nations,
Shall glory and live in the songs of our land
Music: Hymn to Our Lady of Knock sung by The McBennett Sisters, a trio from Co. Armagh, Northern Ireland
They were people of all ages Gathered round the gabled wall Poor and humble, men and women Little children at your call, We are gathered here before you And our hearts are just the same Filled with joy at such a vision As we praise your name.
Golden Rose, Queen of Ireland All my cares and troubles cease As I kneel with love before you Lady of Knock, My Queen of Peace
Though your message was unspoken Still the truth and silence reigns As I gaze upon your vision And the truth I tried to find Here I stand with John the Teacher And with Joseph at your side And I see the Lamb of God On the altar glorified.
Golden rose …
And the lamb will conquer, And the woman clothed in the sun, Will shine her light on everyone. Yes, the lamb will conquer, And the woman clothed in the sun, Will shine her light on everyone.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 46 which celebrates the felt assurance of God’s presence no matter surrounding circumstances.
God is our refuge and our strength, an ever-present help in distress. Therefore we fear not, though the earth be shaken and mountains plunge into the depths of the sea.
Psalm 46: 2-3
That kind of faith is pretty amazing! It’s easy to celebrate God when things are going well – but earth shaking and mountains plunging? That’s something else. What’s the secret to that kind of faith?
Such believers seem to have found the “stream”:
There is a stream whose runlets gladden the city of God, the holy dwelling of the Most High. God is in its midst; it shall not be disturbed; God will help it at the break of dawn.
Psalm 46: 4-5
In her “Four Waters of Prayer”, St. Teresa of Ávila describes how we find this stream. Imagine your soul as a garden that needs to be nourished by prayer.
The first way to nourish it is like drawing water from a well. It is a very active kind of prayer in which we use our faculties to come closer to God.
The second way is like a water-wheel. As we accustom ourselves to prayer, it becomes easier to enter a sacred space.
The third way is a stream. It is the point in our spiritual lives where prayer, awareness of God, flows throughout our day.
The Fourth Water is the prayer of ecstasy when we are filled with and by God as by a luxuriant rain.
You can read St. Teresa’s descriptions here. The language is that of the 16th century but the wisdom is eternal.
Poetry: Poem for St. John of the Cross by Lisa Zimmerman
In the dark night of the soul, bright flows the river of God
John of the Cross
Saint John of the Cross, Your father married for love an orphan below his noble station. Discarded by his wealthy kindred they say your parents nurtured you in poverty— and the bread was as sweet as any bread
and the days offered their shiny hands and their little streams of water singing in the glades.
I see you wandering happily as a boy, the sun a crown on your small head, your bare feet scuffing the dust. God chirped like a wood lark in the throat of afternoon and the lonely months in prison were far ahead beneath the great shadow of the future.
I try to follow you there, O mystic, to watch you defy your greedy brethren monks who will reject your reforms, your love of less, of days returned to prayer and fasting.
Fat and threatened, they silenced you in a narrow stone cell, one tiny window like the one in the soul where day after day the voice of God pierced your suffering.
Out of emptiness, a full heart— out of abandonment, a poem of seeking— out of utter darkness, a gleam of pure light— love’s last trembling boat waiting for you to get in, and row.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 30, a perfect prayer for where we find ourselves in the course of the pandemic.
Psalm 30 is a song of thanksgiving. It names the dreadful things from which the psalmist is grateful to have been delivered.
I will extol you, O LORD, for you drew me clear and did not let my enemies rejoice over me. O LORD, you brought me up from the nether world; you preserved me from among those going down into the pit.
Psalm 30: 3-4
When we read the entire psalm, we meet someone who remembers having a very pleasant life —- moving along, perhaps, in joyful oblivion.
Then “BOOM!”
Complacent, I once said, “I shall never be shaken.” LORD, you showed me favor, established for me mountains of virtue. But when you hid your face I was struck with terror.
Psalm 30: 8-9
I think a lot of us felt some similar emotions last March. How about you?
And the psalmist, again like many of us, begged God for help:
Hear, O LORD, have mercy on me; LORD, be my helper.
Now, it feels that deliverance has come, It is time to remember deeply and to give thanks. Like the psalmist, we benefit from reflecting on our experience, folding it into our depths, and coming into deeper relationship with God. What has happened to us and our global community will, and should, change us. We pray that it may make us closer to God and one one another.
You changed my mourning into dancing; you took off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness. So that my glory may praise you and not be silent. O LORD, my God, forever will I give you thanks.
Psalm 30: 13-14
Poetry: Passing away, Saith the World by CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
Passing away, saith the World, passing away:
Chances, beauty and youth, sapp'd day by day:
Thy life never continueth in one stay.
Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to grey
That hath won neither laurel nor bay?
I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May:
Thou, root-stricken, shalt not rebuild thy decay
On my bosom for aye.
Then I answer'd: Yea.
Passing away, saith my Soul, passing away:
With its burden of fear and hope, of labour and play,
Hearken what the past doth witness and say:
Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array,
A canker is in thy bud, thy leaf must decay.
At midnight, at cockcrow, at morning, one certain day
Lo, the Bridegroom shall come and shall not delay:
Watch thou and pray.
Then I answer'd: Yea.
Passing away, saith my God, passing away:
Winter passeth after the long delay:
New grapes on the vine, new figs on the tender spray,
Turtle calleth turtle in Heaven's May.
Though I tarry, wait for Me, trust Me, watch and pray.
Arise, come away, night is past and lo it is day,
My love, My sister, My spouse, thou shalt hear Me say.
Then I answer'd: Yea.
In preparing for today’s reflection, I decided to look back a year ago to Laetare Sunday 2020. We were just beginning a very troubling and painful journey. We had no idea the depths to which it would take us. I hadn’t even learned to call our enemy “Covid”, as you will see.
Yet as I read the past reflection in the light of where we are today, I was filled with awe, gratitude, sadness and remembrance.
I thought it might be good to offer the selection as a re-read for today as we stand on the brink of hope, Daylight Savings Time and a Spring that, for twelve terrible months, we couldn’t count on seeing.
As we begin to help one another heal, hope, and fully live again, let’s continue to pray for another. Thank you all for being part of the Lavish Mercy community whose prayer helped carry us all through these times.
May God bless you all — and good health, good heart, good Spirit to every one of you.
Laetare! Rejoice! Lent has run half its distance to Easter.
I know it may be a bit difficult to rejoice in this Corona time, but think of this: Spring has stepped over the horizon! The long winter watch is over. But before we shake off its black velvet wraps for good, it might be well to think about what winter has taught us. It may strengthen us for this unusually challenging spring!
The stretch of time between November and April is all about waiting. Bulbs wait under the frozen earth. Bears hibernate in the cold mountains. Birds migrate, their old nests empty until the spring. All creation seems to enter a time of patience and unrealized expectation. But it is not a time of desolation. It is a time of hope for things yet unseen. Perhaps we can make our Corona time that kind of hopeful time.
We human beings also experience “winter” – not simply the seasonal one – but “winters of the spirit”. We all go through times when our nests have been emptied; times when all the beautiful flowering aspects of our lives seem dormant; times when our vigor and strength seem to hide in the cave of depression or sadness. These “winters” take many forms. We may find ourselves sick of a job we had always loved. We may find a long, committed relationship wavering. We may find the burdens of age or economics overwhelming us. We may be the unwilling bearers of responsibilities we had not bargained for.
But if we listen, under the deep silence of waning winter, the wind rustles. It carries the hint of a new season. It carries the hope of the renewing cycle of our lives. In that silence, we may be able to hear our own heartbeat more clearly. We may come to a clearer understanding of what is most important in our lives. In the stillness, we may be forced to know and understand ourselves in a deeper way.
In this time of global angst and uncertainty, I think of a powerful image from the works of St. Teresa of Avila. St. Teresa imagines God as a warm healer leaning over our frozen world, setting free the beauty of our spirits. This is what she says:
And God is always there, if you feel wounded. He kneels over this earth like a divine medic, and His love thaws the holy in us.
Teresa of Avila
Every time you touch another person’s life, — in these times, from at least six feet away — you have the chance to change winter into spring. You have a chance to be like God.
Call someone who may feel very alone. Be “Laetare” for them! Pray for someone suffering illness or loss. Send healing hopes to those you may not even know in distant places of our shared earth. Light, Easter rising and renewed life will come. Let us trust God and hold one another up as we wait.
Music: Laetare Jerusalem – Discantus
Laetáre Jerúsalem: et convéntum fácite ómnes qui dilígitis éam: gaudéte cum laetítia, qui in tristítia fuístis: ut exsultétis, et satiémini abubéribus consolatiónis véstrae.
Ps.: Laetátus sum in his quae dícta sunt míhi: in dómum Dómini íbimus.
Glória Pátri, et Fílio, et Spirítui Sáncto. Sicut erat in princípio, et nunc, et semper, et in saécula saeculórum. Amen.
Laetáre Jerúsalem: et convéntum fácite ómnes qui dilígitis éam: gaudéte cum laetítia, qui in tristítia fuístis: ut exsultétis, et satiémini abubéribus consolatiónis véstrae.
Rejoice, O Jerusalem: and come together all you that love her: rejoice with joy you that have been in sorrow: that you may exult, and be filled from the breasts of your consolation
Ps.: I rejoiced at the things that were said to me: we shall go into the house of the Lord.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit; as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 51 which, together with our other readings, tests the depths and sincerity of our prayer.
A clean heart create for me, God; renew within me a steadfast spirit.
Psalm 51:12
Our readings today put this consideration before us:
What is prayer really, and what is the quality of my prayer?
Hosea tells us
For it is love that I desire, not sacrifice, and knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.
Luke tells us
For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.
And our psalm tells us
For you are not pleased with sacrifices; should I offer a burnt offering, you would not accept it. My sacrifice, O God, is a contrite spirit; a heart contrite and humbled, O God, you will not spurn.
To sum up our readings, here’s what prayer is NOT:
It is not a roll call of our sacrifices and righteousness.
It is not fasting, or paying tithes, or even keeping the commandments.
Then what is it?
Prayer is an intimate exchange with God with whom we are humble, honest, open, generous and grateful – with Whom we are safe, confident and in love.
Prayer is our response to God who desires our merciful hearts. … so Let us Pray.
Poetry: A Prayer from Teresa of Avila
May today there be peace within. May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 81, another call to listen to God’s Word in order to find the fullness of life:
If only my people would hear me, and Israel walk in my ways, I would feed them with the best of wheat, and with honey from the rock I would fill them.
But honestly, isn’t it hard to listen sometimes. Even the psalm suggests that there are such loud, distracting events in our lives that we sometimes can’t hear that Word:
In distress you called, and I rescued you. Unseen, I answered you in thunder; I tested you at the waters of Meribah. Hear, my people, and I will admonish you; O Israel, will you not hear me?
The psalm shows us that God’s deepest Word comes to us in thunder, in storm. It is a truth Jesus embraced on Calvary. It is a truth our lives will sometimes require of us.
This morning my prayer is filled with thoughts of my friend whose young daughter died last week. When even I, who never met Emily, can feel the overwhelming sadness of her untimely death, what unbearable storm must surround her parents! How can they hear the word of faith in the tumult?
Many years ago, I attended an evening event on the other side of my state. During the ceremony, a tornado touched down very nearby. After several frightening hours, I was able to travel back to my hotel, about five miles away.
But the roads were blocked with debris. The streets lights and signs had been blown down. And I was completely unfamiliar with the vicinity. I did eventually make it “home” to the hotel, but it wasn’t the same as I had left it. Part of the roof lay across the street. The window in my room had been fractured and boarded up.
For me, the memory is a parable about suffering. When the storm comes, we may pass through it, but we are not unchanged. Our world is not unchanged.
Jesus was not unchanged by Good Friday and Easter Sunday. By hearing God’s Word in the storm, Jesus was transformed. This is the legacy of faith Christ has given us in the Paschal Mystery. May it strengthen, heal, and transform us this Lent. May it comfort all those who so dearly love Emily.
Poetry: The Man Watching by Rainer Maria Rilke, Translated by Robert Bly
I can tell by the way the trees beat, after so many dull days, on my worried windowpanes that a storm is coming, and I hear the far-off fields say things I can’t bear without a friend, I can’t love without a sister.
The storm, the shifter of shapes, drives on across the woods and across time, and the world looks as if it had no age: the landscape, like a line in the psalm book, is seriousness and weight and eternity.
What we choose to fight is so tiny! What fights with us is so great. If only we would let ourselves be dominated as things do by some immense storm, we would become strong too, and not need names.
When we win it’s with small things, and the triumph itself makes us small. What is extraordinary and eternal does not want to be bent by us. I mean the Angel who appeared to the wrestlers of the Old Testament: when the wrestlers’ sinews grew long like metal strings, he felt them under his fingers like chords of deep music.
Whoever was beaten by this Angel (who often simply declined the fight) went away proud and strengthened and great from that harsh hand, that kneaded him as if to change his shape. Winning does not tempt that man. This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively, by constantly greater beings.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 95, another frequent friend of our prayer.
Psalm 95 is an “enthronement psalm” which calls us to worship God as Ruler. Our verses today also use the images of Rock and Shepherd as images to help us understand the nature of God’s presence in our lives.
We can know God only through images. Most of us don’t have direct revelations. 😉 The images we choose and cultivate have a profound impact on our relationship with God and on how we live our lives in God’s image.
Psalm 95 offers us two pictures of God today. These two metaphors evoke some similar sentiments. They also contrast in other ways. Praying with ikons like these can be a beneficial way to come deeply into God’s Presence by touching into our deepest spiritual needs.
Poetry: Rainer Maria Rilke, Poems from the Book of Hours
You are the future, the great sunrise red above the broad plains of eternity. You are the cock-crow when time’s night has fled, You are the dew, the matins, and the maid, the stranger and the mother, you are death. You are the changeful shape that out of Fate rears up in everlasting solitude, the unlamented and the unacclaimed, beyond describing as some savage wood. You are the deep epitome of things that keeps its being’s secret with locked lip, and shows itself to others otherwise: to the ship, a haven — to the land, a ship.
Music: Made in the Image of God – We Are Messengers
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 147, a poem filled with reasons to love and praise God. Today’s selected verses mention just a few of those reasons.
The blessings of security and family:
Worship the Lord, O Jerusalem; praise your God, O Zion, who has strengthened the bars of your gates, who has blessed your children within you.
Psalm 147: 12-13
The blessings of diverse Creation:
The Lord sends out a command to the earth, and this word runs very swiftly. The Lord gives snow like wool and scatters hoarfrost like ashes
Psalm 147: 15-16
The blessings of faith and religious heritage:
The Lord declares the word to Jacob, statutes and judgements to Israel. The Lord has not done so to any other nation; to them these judgements have not been revealed.
Psalm 147: 19-20
Sometimes we spend a lot of energy praying over the things we think we need rather than recognizing all that we have.
This morning as I prayed, a personal thanksgiving psalm unfolded in my heart:
Hundreds of snow geese followed their yearly flight path right over my home, honking a symphony of hope.
The sun rose warm, tugging a clear promise of spring up over the horizon.
The Psalms lay open in my lap, a rich gift of the ages to my sometimes thin prayer.
My beloved communities slowly awakened and blossomed around me – my Mercy sisters, the toddlers in the daycare below me, the daily hum of the Motherhouse across the path outside my window, the buses carrying children to our Mercy schools
My family texting from their faraway homes.
I imagined myself as a small part of the magnificent communities described by beloved Pope Francis in Laudato Sí and Fratelli Tutti.
I felt those communities slowly beginning to recover from this past year’s devastation.
I prayed my sense of blessing into those still so deeply broken by global suffering, begging for their healing.
Gratitude for my blessings overwhelmed me, as it did our psalmist in #147:
Hallelujah! How good to sing praise to our God; how pleasant to give fitting praise.
Psalm 147:1
Poem: God Moves in a Mysterious Way – William Cowper
God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill;
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev'ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flow'r.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.
Music: The Snow Goose – John Ritchie
Speaking of geese this morning, one of my all time favorite stories is “The Snow Goose” by Paul Gallico. I hope many of you have read it. It’s beautiful. I found a website that talks all about it, even with a Richard Harris movie included! For those who might be interested in a literary excursion 😀:
Lavish Mercy 