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
The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ (Corpus Christi) June 7, 2026
Piety is a virtue that can get a bad rap. It is sometimes associated with a “better than thou” attitude ostentatiously demonstrated by sanctimonious practices and gestures.
A profound sense of the true meaning of piety captured me when I saw the sculpture “Pietà” in Rome. I had seen a hundred photos of this treasure in previous years, but none touched the beauty and pathos embodied in the marble itself. I was tearful, speechless, and prayerfully united with Mary as she held the broken body of her precious son. What I felt was intense piety, an indescribable oneness with the Holy.
That holy, broken, but resurrected Body of Christ abides with us today in the Church and in the Creation. The redemptive energy of the Trinity, fired in us through the Incarnation, continues in time through Love. Redemption perdures through the love with which we bring the world to God, and God to the world. We are the Body of Christ living in our time.
Over the centuries, many brilliant theologians have approached the mystery of the Body of Christ, each contributing their own insights to help the rest of us grow in faith. For me. Pierre de Chardin, rare combination of scientist and mystic, expressed some of the most beautiful and expansive language about this mystery:
Radiant Word, blazing Power, you who mold the manifold so as to breathe your life into it; I pray you, lay on us those your hands — powerful, considerate, omnipresent, those hands which do not (like our human hands) touch now here, now there, but which plunge into the depths and the totality, present and past, of things so as to reach us simultaneously through all that is most immense and most inward within us and around us.
May the might of those invincible hands direct and transfigure for the great world you have in mind that earthly travail which I have gathered into my heart and now offer you in its entirety. Remold it, rectify it, recast it down to the depths from whence it springs. You know how your creatures can come into being only, like shoot from stem, as part of an endlessly renewed process of evolution.
Do you now therefore, speaking through my lips, pronounce over this earthly travail your twofold efficacious word: the word without which all that our wisdom and our experience have built up must totter and crumble — the word through which all our most far-reaching speculations and our encounter with the universe are come together into a unity. Over every living thing which is to spring up, to grow, to flower, to ripen during this day, say again the words: This is my Body. And over every death-force which waits in readiness to corrode, to wither, to cut down, speak again your commanding words which express the supreme mystery of faith: This is my Blood.
The Mass On The World – Pierre Teilhard De Chardin, S.J
A century before De Chardin, the grace-filled poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins also experienced the Body of Christ in the glory of Creation. Both of these writers foreshadowed the cosmic wisdom of our beloved Pope Francis who authored the spiritual masterpiece, Laudato Si’.
The New Testament does not only tell us of the earthly Jesus and his tangible and loving relationship with the world. It also shows him risen and glorious, present throughout creation by his universal Lordship: “For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross” (Col 1:19-20). This leads us to direct our gaze to the end of time, when the Son will deliver all things to the Father, so that “God may be everything to every one” (1 Cor 15:28). Thus, the creatures of this world no longer appear to us under merely natural guise because the risen One is mysteriously holding them to himself and directing them towards fullness as their end. The very flowers of the field and the birds which his human eyes contemplated and admired are now imbued with his radiant presence.
Laudatory Si’ (100)
Poetry: The Windhover – Gerard Manley Hopkins, SJ
To Christ our Lord I caught this morning morning’s minion, king- dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing, As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding Stirred for a bird, – the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!
Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!
No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.
” This poem is focused not on feelings or individuality, but on wording Christ. The kenosis of the Son into matter is the heart of all beauty and it is only in Christ that beauty is to be found and it is to Christ that beauty leads.”
Today, we celebrate the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity. We pray, within this Loving Mystery, to our Creator, Redeemer, and Abiding Spirit. In each Divine Expression, may we praise and thank our generous God.
The Quaker Meetinghouse that William Penn attended is just a short distance from my home. I pass it frequently and read the Penn quote posted above its entrance, “Let us see what love can do.”
Trinity Sunday is a day to see what love can do. We contemplate the mystery of God, Who is Uncontainable Love, Who progenerates in Infinite Creation, Redemption, and Sanctification.
This is a beyond-big mystery that defies human comprehension. So how am I supposed to pray with it, one might ask!
First off, the Mystery of the Trinity can’t be analyzed or solved. Only problems can be addressed in that way. Like cathedrals of the soul, mysteries must be entered, revered, and embraced as they are. In today’s readings, Moses, Paul, and John share their experience of praying within the mystery of the Trinity.
In our first reading, Moses meets the Creator. He bows in profound awe, then comfortably welcomes God’s company. The passage invites us to an unexpected intimacy with Omnipotence. Love wants to be with us. Love wants to create through us.
Moses at once bowed down to the ground in worship. Then he said, “If I find favor with you, O Lord, do come along in our company. This is indeed a stiff-necked people; yet pardon our wickedness and sins, and receive us as your own.”
Exodus 34:8-9
In our Second Reading from Corinthians, Paul instructs that the Redeemer abides with us through our joy, mutual encouragement, and peaceful co-existence. Like the Creator’s kiss that gives us life, the holy kiss of Christian community nurtures the timeless vitality of the Gospel.
Brothers and sisters, rejoice. Mend your ways, encourage one another, agree with one another, live in peace, and the God of love and peace will be with you. Greet one another with a holy kiss. All the holy ones greet you.
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
That Redemption, given in the gift of God’s Son for us, imbues us with a share in eternal life – the Holy Spirit living within our redeemed hearts. We ourselves become the vessels where the Trinity chooses to abide eternally.
God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.
John 3:16
So what might this Sacred Mystery mean for me today?
I think it shows us what God Who is Love can do:
Love can create life. Love can redeem life. Love can abide for life.
When you feel overwhelmed by a seemingly lifeless situation, remember what Creative Love can do.
When you encounter someone or something that seems irrevocably lost, remember what Redemptive Love can do.
When you are tested to abandon faith, hope, or charity, remember what Abiding Love can do.
Music: Hildegard of Bingen: De Spiritu Sancto (Holy Spirit, The Quickener Of Life) – sung by St. Stanislav Girls’ Choir
Today, we pray in thanksgiving for all women who have chosen the vocation of motherhood. In a world fraught with confusion about the meaning of life, the choice is both selfless and daunting.
There is no greater human intimacy than to give one’s own flesh, blood, and bone to the incarnation of another. They are gifts a mother has received from the one who bore her. They are gifts that may be carried to generations beyond one’s imagination. Most importantly, they are Divine gifts whose source is the very Being of God – God, Who first begot life in a cosmic flash of grace never to be extinguished! Every mother is awash in that unquenchable cascade.
We pray today in thanksgiving for our own mothers, honoring all that is blessing in our relationship. And if there be any hurt unredeemed, we pray for understanding, forgiveness, acceptance, and healing.
We pray for all mothers, especially those bearing the harshness of injustice, poverty, discrimination, or isolation. May a community of compassion find and support them. May each of us do what we can to be such a community.
Finally, on this day, we give all mothers to Mary, our Blessed Mother. She will know what each of them most needs. We ask her to be generous in her hearing and response. Throughout the ages, Mary has been petitioned under many classical titles and images. Today, let’s pray with those particularly relevant to Mary as Mother.
Mother of Tenderness/Mercy – The Eleusa Icon (Greek: Ἐλεούσα – tenderness or showing mercy) is a depiction of the Virgin Mary in which the Christ Child is nestled against her cheek.
Contemplating her, let us pray for all young mothers who are learning both the joys and challenges of motherhood. Let us pray for mothers with mentally or physically burdened children. May Our Mother of Mercy strengthen their tenderness and fortitude.
Theotokaos (God-bearer) Panagia is the term for a particular type of icon of the Theotokos, wherein Mary faces the viewer directly, usually depicted full-length with her hands in a praying position, and with a medallion in front of her showing the image of the Christ child. This medallion symbolically represents Jesus within the womb of the Virgin Mary at the moment of the Incarnation.
Contemplating her, let us pray for all pregnant women, that their pregnancy will bless them too with the new life they are offering their child.
Hodegetria (She Who Shows the Way)
In these images, Mary holds Christ in her left hand, and with her right hand “shows the way” by pointing to Him.
Contemplating her, let us pray for all refugee mothers traversing the difficult path to safety for themselves and their children.
Madonna Lactans (Nursing Mother) The Virgin is depicted breastfeeding the Holy Infant. Our Lady Nursing, as painted in the Catacomb of Priscilla in Rome, c. 250 AD, is thought to be the earliest depiction of Mary.
Contemplating her, let us pray for all mothers who find it difficult to feed their children because of poverty, war, or any form of oppression.
Mater Dolorosa (Mother of Sorrows) Mary is in mourning, often near the cross, with tears, and sometimes a sword through her heart. (The image above is called Our Lady who softens evil hearts, Russian icon, 19th century)
Contemplating her, let us pray for all mothers who have lost their children through miscarriage, abortion, emotional alienation, or unexpected death. May the wounds of grief, sorrow, fear, or isolation be healed in their broken hearts.
Mater Amabilis (Loving Mother) Mary turns her gaze away from the Christ Child as she contemplates his future ministry.
Contemplating her, let us pray for all mothers of grown children who, no matter the distance, still prayerfully watch over their offspring. Let us be mindful of mothers who bear a deeper worry for their children’s safety because of their skin color, language, gender, or accent.
Music: Alma Redemptoris Mater
Alma Redemptoris Mater Loving Mother of our Redeemer, quae pervia caeli Porta manes, et stella maris gate of heaven, star of the sea, succurre cadenti, Surgere qui curat, populo assist your people who have fallen yet strive to rise again. tu quae genuisti, Natura mirante, tuum sanctum Genitorem To the wonderment of nature you bore your Creator, Virgo prius ac posterius: yet remained a virgin after as before. Gabrielis ab ore Sumens illud Ave, You who received Gabriel’s joyful greeting, peccatorum miserere have pity on us poor sinners.
The virtue of diligence opposes the deadly sin of sloth, which is a deep spiritual sorrow or disinclination to embrace the divine good and God’s Will.
On a late April day several years ago, I sat in my office, gathering thoughts for a reflection on the value of work. A sense of early summer teased me from the other side of my window. In my imagination, it reawakened thoughts that I had often tried to stifle — things like, “Be a beachcomber. Retire early. Live in the woods like Thoreau.” (Remember him? He wrote Walden Pond.) In other words, is it just me, or does everybody have a hard time working as summer approaches?!
Which brings me to my more serious message, as you might have guessed. How do we stay in touch with the dignity of our work despite whatever distractions tempt us? Throughout our lives, how do we grow in diligence, and in the understanding that all work is an invitation to holiness?
Our work, in its essence, is a share in the creative act of God. It is our opportunity to add our unique touch to the masterpiece of Creation. How do we maintain that focus while navigating the often-frustrating demands of our daily responsibilities?
I was fortunate to learn a hard lesson early in my worklife. I loved the actual work that I did, but I had a boss who seemed neither to like me nor appreciate my efforts (maybe for good reason, who knows!)
She stifled my creativity, compromised my efforts, and underestimated my contributions. For many months, I left the office drained, angry, and dispirited.
Surprisingly, she turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to me in my young professional life. Because of her, I had to ask myself some challenging questions, and discern answers so deep that they really had nothing to do with her.
Where does the dignity of my work reside? Like the work of the Creator, the dignity of work lies in the love and care with which it is performed. It rests in my own truth, and not how anyone else defines me — neither positive nor negative. It lies in my ability to produce results inspirited with care for the community I serve.
Productive and satisfying work is dependent on only one thing — the love with which it is performed.
I must always work for love — not for the love of work itself but for love of those whom my work affects.
I must work because of love — not because of a boss, pay, or recognition. When there is no love in my work, I simply have a job.
I must work with love — because what I create reflects the value I place on myself and on those affected by my work. You can tell when something is done with love, whether it is an apple pie or a telephone response. You can also clearly tell when a product is the end result of a bitter, resentful, or careless effort.
I must work toward love — to work in any other way is self-destructive. My work must create positive opportunities for myself and others to be our best selves. If my work is grudging, resentful, selfish, or irresponsible, it will surely harm others, but I will be the one most seriously diminished.
Now, in my “retirement”, I understand more fully that we always have “work” – something we wish to create, offer, build, or encourage so that we may contribute to the well-being of our various communities. To be able to work is a gift and a responsibility. It is the composition by which our lives will be defined and remembered.
Just as we pursue meaningful work for ourselves, we are called to help others have access to purposeful work and just wages. Work alienated from the common good is self-destructive conceit.
Work, of course, is not always physical. Nor does it always produce visible results. Sometimes in the quiet of the chapel, as I watch a well-worn rosary slip along our sisters’ fingers, I am confident that there is no greater work than that of selfless prayer for the sake of others.
Hopefully, by God’s grace, we can discern “what is ours to do” at each phase of our lives. Today, we pray for that grace for ourselves and all our human family.
Music: The Prayer – Celine Dion and Andrea Bocelli
Today, we celebrate the feast of the great St. Catherine of Siena, Doctor of the Church. Her title means that, by her life and writings, her spiritual wisdom has substantially influenced Catholic theology and doctrine.
Billions of people have been baptized as Catholics, but only thirty-eight of them have been given this title. Of those thirty-eight, only four are women. Catherine’s sisters with this status are Teresa of Ávila, Thérèse of Lisieux, and Hildegard of Bingen. Many of us know their stories and have read some of their writing. Of them, the one least familiar to me is Catherine. So, I set out to learn more about her.
Like her three companions, Catherine was a woman of extremes – extreme intelligence, behaviors, choices, and declarations. She had twenty-five siblings, which should have made her mother a saint, in my opinion! When she was just twelve years old, Catherine dedicated her virginity to God, and at sixteen, became a Dominican lay sister. She spent three teenage years in seclusion in her own home, followed stringent dietary customs, and experienced spiritual ecstasy.
These extremes, and historical distance, might make her seem quite different from us, maybe even a little eccentric. But to learn from her, we must meet her on her own terms and in her own time, not within the frame of our modern perspectives.
Like any young person, as Catherine grew into the faith, she absorbed the customs of her culture. The Church was the dominant force in medieval daily life, serving as the spiritual, political, and communal master. Early in Catherine’s development, she was influenced by 14th century Church practices such as protracted solitude, strict fasting, and intense meditation.
Catherine of Siena by Francesco Vanni – 1566
But as Catherine matured, she emerged from these extremes with a profound relationship with God and God’s Creation. She had developed an exquisite sensitivity to the needs of her society’s poor and outcast, in whom she saw Christ. Her confident relationship with God and deep love of the Church allowed her to speak truth to power, shaping both the theological enlightenment of her times and the historical evolution of the papacy.
Catherine of Siena, negotiating with Pope Gregory XI on behalf of the Florentines by Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale
So, I ask myself what Catherine can say to me from the distance of six hundred years and some outdated spiritual practices! Here’s what I came up with: • To grow close to God, we must give sincere attention to our spiritual life, using the best guides available to us, and prioritizing it beyond all other considerations. • Deep spiritual growth aligns us with Truth, and calls us to action on behalf of God’s People, especially the poor and marginalized. • Prayer is a divine gift and should be the constant conversation of our lives. For that to happen, we must deepen our understanding of prayer and commit ourselves to its practice.
After my reflections, I feel I know Catherine a little bit better. I hope I have encouraged you to get to know her too.
Music: Set the World on Fire – Britt Nicole
This song gives a modern interpretation of Catherine of Siena’s famous quote: “Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire“.
As in the prayer of petition, every event and need can become an offering of thanksgiving. The letters of St. Paul often begin and end with thanksgiving, and the Lord Jesus is always present in it: “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you”; “Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving.” ~ from The Catechism of the Catholic church
In the 1980s, when we worked together at Misericordia Hospital, my friend Jude and I had an annual custom that we practiced for a few years. On each of our birthdays, we accompanied the other to the Free Library of Philadelphia, a magnificent Beaux-Arts building on Logan Circle, reminiscent of Place de Concorde in Paris. Both our birthdays occur in the early spring, so the trip was particularly lovely on the beautifully landscaped Ben Franklin Parkway.
Inside the vast building, we climbed the impressive marble staircase to the newspapers and microfiche center that used to be tucked in a balcony upstairs. Our objective was to find the newspaper of the celebrant’s actual birth day, and to marvel at the world in which our lives began.
I have often reflected on that delightful ritual and the multidimensional meaning it held for me.
It allowed me to see myself as a particular part of history – to recognize a past beginning, a present reality, and a future hope for my existence.
It gave me an awareness of the world my mother carried with her to the maternity ward, and into which she hopefully and protectively welcomed me.
It allowed me to honor time as an energy that offers not only unsolicited change, but the opportunity for chosen growth and depth.
It reinforced the mutuality Jude and I shared in being grateful for one another’s birth and friendship.
Of course, a birthday requires a bit more frivolity in celebration, so there was a second essential part to our annual outing. We finished up the day by going “all-Philly” at the renowned Reading Terminal Market with a stop at some of our favorite vendors: Pearl’s Oyster Bar, Bassett’s Ice Cream, Termini’s Bakery, or a Pennsylvania Dutch pretzel and a Yuengling beer.
One’s birthday is a sacred juncture in the long unfolding of time. It is the moment when God imagined us and the power of our lives into being – the moment when God’s hope was given our face, our soul. It is a miracle that summons humble awe and reflective gratitude.
Psalm 139 offers an apt thanksgiving on any morning, but especially on one’s birthday. These verses capture the essence of that prayer. (BTW, I turned 81 today. A birthday prayer would be greatly appreciated.)
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts,[a] God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand— when I awake, I am still with you.
Music: For the Beauty of the Earth – John Rutter, performed by Gracias Choir
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?
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In God’s great mercy, we have been given new birth into a living hope through the Resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade.
1 Peter 1:3-4
They woke up one morning beside each other as they had for fifteen years. The scent of last night’s acrid argument lingered in the corners of the room. After a few moments, he turned to her and said, “We need to learn how to love each other again. Can we try?”
Over the course of long-term relationships, the parties change. Phil and Judy wanted to remain committed to their marriage, but they found themselves strangled by years of unpruned misunderstandings. All heart commitments meet similar challenges. All dreams fray a little on their way to fulfillment.
We have followed Jesus through Holy Week on such a road. Passover Sunday filled his spirit with the fresh scent of palms and possibilities. But as the week waned, the Father led Jesus in a daunting direction. He asked his Son to give the ultimate price for love.
Our lives too will teach us this: every ride on a palm-strewn road meets a fork toward Gethsemane. There is no true love without sacrifice. But the road does not end at the foot of the cross. Loving sacrifice lifts us to see this morning’s Easter sunrise. The life that had lain hidden in darkness now rises triumphant in our hearts. Today, we are offered the grace to live this mystery on our own journeys. Amazingly, Easter invites us to fall in love again with God and to begin our lives anew
Music: Love Is Come Again (Now the Green Blade Riseth)
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.
Lavish Mercy 