Many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them about their brother [Lazarus, who had died]. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him; but Mary sat at home. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” John 11:19-22
Jesus needed and had friends, just like we do. Martha, Mary, and Lazarus were that kind of close friends. Jesus could hang out at their house, be comfortable at their table. They loved when he visited, bustling about to tidy the house and make him a special meal. They could sit with him for the afternoon in the comfortable silence between close friends. And could expect him to share their joys and sorrows.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: Jesus wants to be that kind of friend with us – sharing presence, refreshment, a quiet comfort, a lively conversation. He wants to share our ups and downs and in-betweens.He wants us to love him as he loves us.
Poetry: Malcolm Guite – The Anointing at Bethany
Come close with Mary, Martha, Lazarus so close the candles stir with their soft breath and kindle heart and soul to flame within us, lit by these mysteries of life and death. For beauty now begins the final movement in quietness and intimate encounter. The alabaster jar of precious ointment is broken open for the world’s true Lover. The whole room richly fills to feast the senses with all the yearning such a fragrance brings. The heart is mourning but the spirit dances, here at the very center of all things, here at the meeting place of love and loss, we all foresee, and see beyond the cross.
Music: Pour My Love on You by Craig and Dean Phillips
Observing the boldness of Peter and John and perceiving them to be uneducated, ordinary men, the leaders, elders, and scribes were amazed, and they recognized them as the companions of Jesus.
Acts 4:11
When Jesus had risen, early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom he had driven seven demons. She went and told his companions who were mourning and weeping. When they heard that he was alive and had been seen by her, they did not believe.
Mark 16:9-11
Think of it! Jesus had companions – people he depended on and who depended on him. Like all companions, they had a common bond – their faith and mission.
It was this shared faith and mission that made them recognizable even when they were not standing side by side.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
How wonderful to be so invested in the faith and mission of the Gospel that we are recognizable as companions of Jesus!
Poetry: The Companion – John N. Morris
I shall begin To appear too often. You will not recall When first you saw me. I shall arrive At the light beside you. Catching a plane You will observe me. I will never speak. I will never ignore you. I shall open a door. You will pass before me. I will stand In a line behind you. Whatever you do I will be the same. Nobody else Will ever believe you. Soon you will find You are looking for me. The day will come, It is getting closer, When I shall stand At every corner. Then you will know That you deserve me And there will be No more excuses.
When they climbed out on shore, they saw a charcoal fire with fish on it and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish you just caught.” So Simon Peter went over and dragged the net ashore full of one hundred fifty-three large fish. Even though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come, have breakfast.” And none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they realized it was the Lord.
Have you ever eaten breakfast on a quiet morning beach?
When each of my nieces and nephew was about three years old, I would take her or him to the beach with me in the early morning. It was like an initiation. We would sit quietly at water’s edge as I taught them to hum or sing a morning hymn. After a little while, my dear sister-in-law, their mother, would arrive with a full pot of coffee and two cups. The praying child would be released to play while Mare and I took up the morning silence, stringing it with occasional words.
It was a time of wonderful love and ease among us, a time of unforgettable blessing. This is the gift Jesus gives his disciples in today’s reading. He offers us the same blessing too, if we can find a little space for him in our morning. Just a minute or two will do. Remember, Jesus can do a lot with just a word — just think about those 153 fish!
Poetry: Jesus Makes Breakfast: A Poem about John 21:1-14 – by Carol Penner, Mennonite pastor currently teaching theology at Conrad Grebel University College in Waterloo, Ontario.
I could smell that charcoal fire a long way off while we were still rowing far from shore. As we got closer I could smell the fish cooking, I imagined I could hear it sizzling. When you’re hungry, your mind works that way.
When the man by the fire called out asking us about our catch, we held up the empty nets. And his advice to throw the nets in once more is something we might have ignored, except for the smell of cooking fish… this guy must know something about catching fish!
The catch took our breath away; never in my life have we pulled so many in one heave. I was concentrating on the catch, but John wasn’t even paying attention, he was staring at the shore as if his life depended on it. Then he clutched my shoulder, crying, “It is the Lord!”
Suddenly, everything came into focus, the man, the catch, the voice, and nothing could stop me, I had to be with the Master.
There were no words at breakfast, beyond, “Pass the fish,” or “I’ll have a bit more bread.” We sat there, eating our fill, basking in the sunrise. We didn’t have to say anything. Jesus just smiled and served.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we have two beautiful readings to enrich our prayer.
In our first reading, Paul blesses and encourages his young disciple Timothy. Reminding Timothy of his faith heritage, received from his mother and grandmother, Paul inspires Timothy to live a spiritually courageous life:
I remind you to stir into flame the gift of God that you have through the imposition of my hands. For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather of power and love and self-control. So do not be ashamed of your testimony to our Lord, nor of me, a prisoner for his sake; but bear your share of hardship for the Gospel with the strength that comes from God.
2 Timothy 1: 6-8
Praying with this passage, we can look both back and forward – to those who have encouraged our faith, and to those who depend on us for edification.
In our Gospel, Jesus paints a picture for his disciples of what the Kingdom of Heaven is like. This is a realm in which we already live – the eternal universe of the Creator’s love and grace. But our time-bound eyes can’t see that world clearly. It is more real than our physical world, but perceptible only to the awakened spirit.
Jesus tries to explain this “kingdom” to his followers. He says that like the growth of a seed, this world is a sacred mystery whose energy is generated by God, not by us:
This is how it is with the Kingdom of God; it is as if someone were to scatter seed on the land and would sleep and rise night and day and the seed would sprout and grow, they know not how. Of its own accord the land yields fruit, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. And when the grain is ripe, they wield the sickle at once, for the harvest has come.
Mark 4: 26-29
Paul and Jesus encouraged their followers to live in joyous alignment with this Divine Order – the “Kingdom of God”, as scripture calls it. In our prayer today, let’s listen to their counsel, for it is meant for us as well.
Poetry: Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower – Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29
“Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you. Let this darkness be a bell tower and you the bell. As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength. Move back and forth into the change. What is it like, such intensity of pain? If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night, be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses, the meaning discovered there.
And if the world has ceased to hear you, say to the silent earth: I flow. To the rushing water, speak: I am.”
Music: Lamb of God – from the Mass of St. Timothy – Matt Maher
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, our readings center on the themes of grief, honor, and mercy.
In the passage from 2 Samuel, Saul has been killed in battle. The news is brought to David by a scheming Amalekite who (later verses reveal) hopes to profit from his enterprise. He has stripped Saul’s dead body of its kingly insignia, obsequiously depositing it at David’s feet. The messenger expects David’s vengeful rejoicing and a hefty reward.
Instead David, with reverence and honor appropriate to a future king, launches a deep public mourning for Saul and Jonathan. It is a bereavement necessary to both cleanse and heal the community’s heart from all the strife leading up to it.
David seized his garments and rent them, and all the men who were with him did likewise. They mourned and wept and fasted until evening for Saul and his son Jonathan, and for the soldiers of the LORD of the clans of Israel, because they had fallen by the sword.
2 Samuel 1:11-12
David’s lament is profound; it is ”splancha”, sprung from his innards, like the anguish Jesus felt for the suffering persons he encountered, as described in our Gospel.
A callous or indifferent heart cannot comprehend such pathos. Seeing it in Jesus, even his relatives thought him insane!
Jesus came with his disciples into the house. Again the crowd gathered, making it impossible for them even to eat. When his relatives heard of this they set out to seize him, for they said, “He is out of his mind.”
Mark 3: 20-21
Our God is a God of boundless love and impractical mercy. David models a bit of that godliness. Jesus is its complete Incarnation.
Poetry: Talking to Grief – Denise Levertov
Ah, Grief, I should not treat you like a homeless dog who comes to the back door for a crust, for a meatless bone. I should trust you.
I should coax you into the house and give you your own corner, a worn mat to lie on, your own water dish.
You think I don't know you've been living under my porch. You long for your real place to be readied before winter comes. You need your name, your collar and tag. You need the right to warn off intruders, to consider my house your own and me your person and yourself my own dog.
Music: Lascia Ch’io Pianga (Let Me Weep)- Georg Frideric Handel – a single piece of beautiful music today in two version, an aria and an instrumental interpretation.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, the whole Church joins in praying for the wholeness of the Communion of Saints. We all desire to be together again, with everyone we have loved, in eternal life.
This morning, as I prepare the reflection for All Souls Day, I consider how much religious practice can change in one’s lifetime. The Church and we are always growing in understanding and truth if we have open hearts. This graced understanding is exactly what the Church seeks in the current Synod on Synodality. Yet, as with all growth, we may tend to resist.
Today, I am taken (waaay) back to how All Souls Day was commemorated in my youth. My teachers impressed me with the idea that this special day was a time when repentant souls could be released from Purgatory if I prayed hard enough. I thought the process was similar to Amazon Prime Day where costs/penalties dropped and the early and persistent pray-er could snag a lot of souls for heaven.
(not us, but close enough)
We always had off from school on All Souls Day, so Janie McFadden and I would meet up about 5:45 AM to begin our marathon of Masses. We had four parish priests so at three Masses a piece, Janie and I were set for the next few hours of liberating prayer. About 7:00 AM, Harry diNicolo finally showed up but he certainly didn’t get full credit like me and Janie!
The scene was somber. The priests wore black vestments then, spoke mostly in Latin, and turned their backs to the participating congregation. There were a lot of candles and not very much real light that early in the morning. You guessed it – Janie and I took turns falling asleep. About every 10 minutes, one would punch the other in an effort to rev up purgatorial releases. Still not sure if any of that worked. Harry, by the way, went back home about 7:15 because he was hungry for breakfast.
One year, after the third Nicene Creed or so, Janie fainted. Sister Eucharistica told her not to do the All Souls Marathon again without drinking “a wee bit of milk before you come to Church”. Given our understanding of Divine Law at the time, requiring total fasting, we fourth graders were pretty sure Sr. Eucharistica would be the next soul we were praying out of Purgatory!
But as I think of her now, she was exactly the kind of person we need today for a “synodal Church”. She was a woman full of wisdom, courage, and common sense. She knew how to prioritize human needs long before the institutional Church figured it out. She knew Jesus desired communion with someone who wasn’t in a dead faint!
I think she probably knew too that we hadn’t come to Mass on that cold 1955 morning just to help “release” folks from purgatory. We had come to remember people we loved who had gone ahead of us, to reflect on their lives, to miss them, love them, and to learn from both their lights and their shadows.
We were young kids who, in our own small way, wanted to honor and face the meaning of death in human life. We wanted to know that God cared about our sadness over losing Grandmom or Uncle Joe. We wanted to know that God cared about us even though we too would face the same mysterious completion of our earthly lives.
Unfortunately, the Tridentine Mass didn’t provide much of that spiritual enrichment. But Sr. Eucharistica did. God bless her!
Today, in a language still very heavy with 16th-century concepts, the Catholic Encyclopedia defines purgatory as a place or condition of temporal punishment for those who, departing this life in God’s grace, are, not entirely free from venial faults, or have not fully paid the satisfaction due to their transgressions.
That language doesn’t do much for me either. I choose to think that most of us do the best we can with our lifetimes, but maybe there are a few who don’t. They don’t quite create the space in themselves to receive and eternally embrace God. “Purgatory” is their second chance, a “time out” God gives them to get their heads together and realize how much they have been missing. Then, violà, they like all the saints are flooded with glory.
My dear friend Janie has long ago gone to the heavenly understanding. I’m not sure what happened to Harry, even though we dated off and on well into high school. I think he finally found somebody who liked to eat more than she liked to go to Mass. Meanwhile, my likes were going in a different direction.
Prose: from Pope Francis’s homily on November 2, 2022
Brother and sisters, let us feed our expectation for Heaven, let us exercise the desire for paradise. Today it does us good to ask ourselves if our desires have anything to do with Heaven. Because we risk continuously aspiring to passing things, of confusing desires with needs, of putting expectations of the world before expectation of God. But losing sight of what matters to follow the wind would be the greatest mistake in life.
Remembering Our Merion Mercy Family – lyrics below
We lovingly remember these dear Sisters and Associates who shared Mercy life with us and who have gone home to God in 2023.
One day in the love of Christ we’ll meet once again We’ll laugh as we celebrate a life with no end Where death has been overcome by our Risen Lord
And there are no more goodbyes, no more tears, no more loneliness, and no more fear
Our pain turns to joy darkness to light in God’s heaven there are no more goodbyes
No words tell the gratitude we have for the gift your life was to each of us We’ll never forget
May angels now lead you home to our Risen Lord
And there are no more goodbyes, no more tears, no more loneliness, and no more fear
Our pain turns to joy darkness to light, in God’s heaven there are no more goodbyes
Though now with our heavy hearts we go separate ways we trust in the certain hope there will come a day we’ll join you in paradise with our risen Lord
There will be no more goodbyes, no more tears, no more loneliness, and no more fear Our pain turns to joy darkness to light God’s heaven there are no more goodbyes
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, get ready for a three-day cruise with Jonah and a radical journey down the Jericho road with the Good Samaritan.
The message of Jonah is clear: all people, even hated Ninevites, are children of God’s Mercy. Resisting that understanding can be catastrophic to our spiritual life.
Patricia Tull, Rhodes Professor Emerita of Old Testament at Louisville Seminary, summarizes the Book of Jonah like this:
A postexilic book, Jonah’s story is atypical for prophetic works. Not only is it a narrative about the prophet rather than his speeches, but it also rebuffs Jonah for his refusal to preach to foreign enemies. Jonah’s story portrays foreigners as more than ready to repent and turn to God. The book uses humor, hyperbole, and irony to make its parabolic point.
Our Gospel gives us one of the most beloved yet challenging parables of Jesus – who is our “neighbor”. The infinite dimensions within this parable continue to unfold for us as we deepen in our mercy spirituality.
God does not see anyone as a “foreigner”. Every human being lives with the breath of God. We are “neighbors” because we share that breath, that “neighborhood” of God’s boundless Love.
But, oh my God, how we have forgotten or rejected that common bond of reverence for one another! Just yesterday, one of our sisters brought up the subject of a recent hit-and-run accident in Philadelphia. It now seems to be the common practice to leave the scene of such an occurrence, abandoning the victim to his fatal circumstance. She wondered, incredulously, how anyone could be that callous.
Our Gospel parable describes that callousness. Notice that both the priest and the Levite pass the victim by “on the opposite side“. The phrase implies that if I can build a wall to make you invisible to me, I can more easily ignore your claim on my merciful neighborliness.
The Samaritan lived without those walls. He did not see a Jew, or a foreigner, or an expendable “other”. He saw a human being, like himself – a neighbor who was struggling to live.
The Good Samaritan (1880) by Aimé Morot
Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan is a clear example of the call of the Gospel to neighborliness. In the story, such a call is an inconvenient truth because it summons outside the comfortable community to find the neighbor among the not-well-regarded “others.”
Walter Brueggemann, Health Progress, January – February 2010
We don’t want to be like resistant Jonah, nor like the prejudicially blinded priest and Levite of our parable. But it is hard. The world conspires to separate us into the haves and the have-nots, the deserving and the undeserving, the winners and the losers, the sinners and the saints. Mercy not only resists but dismantles such walls. Do we have the courage to examine our own prejudices and to step across from “the opposite side” for the sake of our neighbor?
Poem: Neighbor – Iain Crichton Smith
Build me a bridge over the stream to my neighbour’s house where he is standing in dungarees in the fresh morning.
O ring of snowdrops spread wherever you want and you also blackbird sing across the fences.
My neighbor, if the rain falls on you,
let it fall on me also
from the same black cloud
that does not recognize gates.
Music: JJ Heller – Neighbor
Sometimes it's easier to jump to conclusions
Than walk across the street
It's like I'd rather fill the blanks with illusions
Than take the time to see
You are tryna close the back door of your car
You are balancing the groceries and a baby in your arms
You are more than just a sign in your front yard
You are my neighbor
I can get so lost in the mission
Of defending what I think
I've been surfing on a sea of opinions
But just behind the screen
You are grateful that the work day's finally done
You are stuck in miles of traffic, looking at your phone
You are tryin' to feel a little less alone
You are my neighbor
When the chasm between us feels so wide
That it's hard to imagine the other side
But we don't have to see things eye to eye
For me to love you like you are my neighbor
My neighbor
Oh, to fear the unfamiliar
Is the easy way to go
But I believe we are connected more than we might ever know
There's a light that shines on both the rich and poor
Looks beyond where we came from and who we voted for
'Til I can't see a stranger anymore
I see my neighbor
May my heart be an open door to my neighbor
You are my neighbor
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we read the tender and beloved story of Ruth and Naomi. We have come to love the beautiful exchange between these two women, filled with devotion and selfless love:
But Ruth said to Naomi, “Do not ask me to abandon or forsake you! For wherever you go, I will go, wherever you lodge I will lodge, your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there be buried. May the LORD do thus to me, and more, if even death separates me from you!”
Ruth 1: 16-17
Who doesn’t long to be devoutly loved the way Ruth loved Naomi? Who, especially in elder years or lonely times, isn’t filled with gratitude for the faithful companionship of dear ones? Who isn’t moved at a wedding ceremony when young couples make brave promises like Ruth’s, having no idea what their vow will require down the years?
Reading the story of Ruth from these perspectives can carry us to deep reflection, but it can also leave us with an insubstantial or idealized perception of the infinite Love mirrored in this Scripture.
The Book of Ruth is so much more than an admirable devotion.
In the Book of Ruth, significant theological formation occurs, presenting a beautifully written story placed distinctively between the chaos of the Book of Judges and the epic struggle between the prophet Samuel and the intractable King Saul in the first book of Samuel. Nestled in between this chaotic downward spiral and the recalcitrance of Saul, Ruth exhibits resilience amidst vulnerability, an outsider grafted into the Davidic lineage and its climactic conclusion in Christ. A theology of hope for those found outside the normative structures of patriarchal, religious, and cultural normative spheres.
Bradford Parker: Ruth: A Theology of Resilience Amidst Vulnerability
Various authors suggest a host of underlying theological themes in Ruth:
the community is responsible for those who are hungry;
the experience of despair cannot be ignored;
people young and old are to be cared for; and
the marginalized are to push to the center, and those at the center are to move toward the marginalized. (Katherine Doob Sakenfeld: Ruth, Interpretation)
Another writer sees “Ruth is herself the “mirror of God” by reflecting Yahweh through her actions of devotion throughout the narrative.” (John C. Holbert: Preaching the Old Testament)
Andre LaCocque argues that “Ruth belongs to the extraordinary. She is characterized by hesed (Mercy).” (Ruth: Continental Commentary)
The Book of Ruth, on surface appearance, is a simple yet compelling story. But reading under its words, we will find astounding depth:
a faithful elder who now feels abandoned by God (Naomi),
a vulnerable young woman who chooses to act for mercy and justice (Ruth)
a man who, by aligning himself unselfishly to the Law, allows the continuation of the familial line which will lead through Obed to David and ultimately to Jesus.(Boaz)
Naomi teaches us how to respond from the depths of loss, sadness, diminishment, or fear. Ruth shows us how courage, fidelity, and mercy act in the everyday world. Boaz models faithfulness, responsibility, and justice given without question when needed.
It is not a stretch to say that Ruth is a Christ figure, foreshadowing the Merciful Jesus who accompanies us in our vulnerabilities and who, by loving us, teaches us how to love:
“Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.”
Matthew 22:36-40
Poetry: Rather than choose a single poem for you, here is the link to a series of thoughtful, poetic reflections on the characters in the Book of Ruth.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, our readings remind us that the witness of others, and their faithful companionship, are incalculable gifts to strengthen our faith.
In the passage from Acts, Peter summons the ancient witness of David in attestation to the Resurrection. David is the perfect exponent, because Peter is speaking to the Jews whose faith is built on David’s heritage.
My brothers and sisters, one can confidently say to you about the patriarch David that he died and was buried, and his tomb is in our midst to this day. But since he was a prophet and knew that God had sworn an oath to him that he would set one of his descendants upon his throne, he foresaw and spoke of the resurrection of the Christ, that neither was he abandoned to the netherworld nor did his flesh see corruption.
Acts 2: 29-31
Our Responsorial Psalm recalls David’s Resurrection testimony, particularly these lines:
Therefore my heart is glad and my soul rejoices, my body, too, abides in confidence; Because you will not abandon my soul to the nether world, nor will you suffer your faithful one to undergo corruption.
You will show me the path to life, fullness of joys in your presence, the delights at your right hand forever.
Psalm 16: 9-11
Matthew’s Gospel retells the witness scene John gave us, allowing us a slightly different slant on the story:
Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went away quickly from the tomb, fearful yet overjoyed, and ran to announce the news to his disciples. And behold, Jesus met them on their way and greeted them. They approached, embraced his feet, and did him homage. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me.”
Matthew 28:7-10
The Two Marys Watch the Tomb – James Tissot
Matthew incorporates the “other Mary” as a first witness to the Resurrection. How wonderful for that faithful disciple whoever she was!
We may not know her full name but we can be rather certain of this – she was Mary Magdalen’s treasured friend. “Other Mary” was the one Magdalen went to when she was just a little too afraid to go find Jesus all by herself. And “Other Mary” was close enough to Jesus that he chose her too to be a “First Witness” of the Resurrection.
“Other Mary” didn’t have the notoriety that Mary Magdalen had. Magdalen was prominent enough that she carried the name of her hometown. “Other Mary” didn’t have such a designation. She was probably a quieter, less recognized, but nevertheless invaluable contributor to the early Christian community.
We know the kind of person “Other Mary” was. We may be blessed with such friends and companions in our own lives, always there, always supportive, always faithful.
Perhaps we want to spend a little time in prayer with “Other Mary”, asking her to help us gratefully recognize those who have companioned us in our faith life.
We might ask her too to help us deepen our own steadfast presence to others in faith, hope and love.
Poetry: An Easter Flower Gift – John Greenleaf Whittier
O dearest bloom the seasons know,
Flowers of the Resurrection blow,
Our hope and faith restore;
And through the bitterness of death
And loss and sorrow, breathe a breath
Of life forevermore!
The thought of Love Immortal blends
With fond remembrances of friends;
In you, O sacred flowers,
By human love made doubly sweet,
The heavenly and the earthly meet,
The heart of Christ and ours!
Music: Bridge Over Troubled Waters – Simon and Garfunkel
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, Paul tells us that we were created “for the praise of God’s glory”. Paul emphasizes the phrase by using it twice in the first reading.
so that we might exist for the praise of his glory, we who first hoped in Christ.
the first installment of our inheritance toward redemption as God’s possession, to the praise of his glory.
Thinking about the prayer of praise may remind us of the four types of prayer we learned by nemonic as a child: ACTS.
Adoration
Contrition
Thanksgiving
Supplication
The last three types are prayers centered in the self. They express my regrets, my gratitude, and my needs. But the first type, Adoration, is centered on God – a prayer of awe and absorption into God’s Presence.
That kind of prayer is so important to deepening our relationship with God. We can understand why just by considering our human relationships.
In order to love someone deeply and intimately, we have to forget ourselves and allow ourselves to embrace their reality. It’s very hard to do this. We are naturally self-centered and self-concerned. But through generosity, intentionality and self-sacrifice, we can learn to love unselfishly.
We can learn to love God like this too. Our prayer of adoration may be a shared silence with God. It may be simple phrases we offer in the awareness of God’s Being, as we breathe the breath of God’s life:
You are Beauty….
You are Life….
You are Mercy….
You are Love…
You are…
We let go of time and purpose. We give ourselves to the One who sustains us.
We don’t ask for anything, say thanks or sorry for anything. We simply absorb God’s Presence and return it in praise.
If we feel the need for words to begin this prayer, we might use the first phrases of an old, beloved mantra – the Divine Praises. Here’s my translation:
Blessed are You, precious God. Blessed is your Holy Name. Blessed are dear Jesus, truly God, truly human. Blessed is your holy Name. Blessed is your Sacred Heart. Blessed is your Precious Blood.
…. and then go on with your personal praises to bless God: blessed is your Presence in my Life … your call to my heart … your peace in my turmoils…..
Poetry: from Rumi
To praise is to praise how one surrenders to the emptiness.
Lavish Mercy 