I think we get too used to things, sometimes – in my case, the phrase “Holy Cross”.
Holy Cross Parish was my first mission assignment as a 21-year-old enthusiastic, clueless teacher. For me, the constantly repeated phrase became bleached of any religious meaning, indicating instead a geographic area, a football team, or a Saturday night dance for teens, blithely described in semi-illiterate phrases such as:
Joe: Where ya’ from? Pete: Holy Cross up on Springfield Ave.
Joe: Who do ya’ play for? Pete: Holy Cross. We won the championship!
Joe: Whata’ ya’ doing Saturday night? Pete: Holy Cross. They got a good dance sometimes.
I never once, at that time, considered the true meaning of the sacred name under which I lived. That amazes me now when I think about it, sixty years later. What a blessing I missed! What an invitation I overlooked! To contemplate the mystery of the Holy Cross while I lived within its mantle! But I think I was just too young and, as I mentioned above, clueless!
God has been patient with me though, accompanying me over the next sixty years to a deeper understanding of the precious gift of the Holy Cross as it reveals its mystery in my life. You, too, are surely aware of this slow revelation in your own experience.
We all know this: life brings crosses to every human being. No one lives without experiencing suffering in some or many forms. It is inherent in our human nature as we stretch for heavenly perfection from the bonds of earthly encumbrance.
God knows this too. And so we have been given the gift of Jesus Christ and the mystery of his Cross to steady us as this truth reveals its gift over the unrelenting course of our days.
Whatever pain our crosses bring us, be it physical, emotional, or spiritual, that pain exposes our heart to the grace of transformation.
The Holy Cross of Christ assures us that our personal cross is not simply an unavoidable suffering. It is our unique pathway into God’s heart and the absolute nature of Divine Love.
We will be tempted to think that loss, failure, incapacity, suffering, even death are terminals where life ends or fails. Rather, by the empty cross of the resurrected Christ, we are convinced that these experiences, when received in faith and open to grace, are the portals to Divine Life.
Our crosses test the strength of our faith, the endurance of our hope, and the depth of our love. The Holy Cross is God’s answer to that test.
On this 25th remembrance of 9/11, I recall the story of the little girl whose mother was trying to explain to her the events of September 11th. This little child could not comprehend how someone, who didn’t even know you, could want to hurt you. Struggling for a solution, she said to her mother, “Mommy, why don’t we just tell them our names?” Her solution is innocent and profound. When we know someone “by name”—when we recognize that they have a family, a history, a dream for the future—it is harder to hurt them. It becomes impossible to treat them as an object of terror and a “casualty of war”.
We all know what it’s like to await the birth of a baby in our families. Parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles — they all have suggestions for the child’s name. We try to pick strong, beautiful, sacred names to bless this child’s life with power and grace.
Every person you meet today was once spoken into existence by God’s loving voice. Every person you meet today was once given a name by someone who loved them and had hope for their future. Every person you meet today offers you an opportunity to affirm the power of your own name — because when we are confident and free in our self-understanding, we naturally draw others into a circle of hospitality. And certainly, the opposite is true. When someone constantly treats others disrespectfully – renaming them according to his/her own prejudices – that person is revealing so much about their own lack of self-worth.
That little girl offers us a beautiful suggestion for the dawning of respect: “Why don’t we just tell each other our names?” As we remember the heartache of September 11th, may her innocent wisdom inspire our resolve for peace and justice.
God’s mercies never cease, nor compassion ever fail. They are renewed every morning, so great is God’s faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23
Dear Friends,
Welcome to the new generation of Lavish Mercy. The first generation, which comprised nearly ten years of material, has been archived for future use. For those who have been with me over the past decade, thank you. For all newcomers, you are very welcome.
God’s Mercy creates, enthuses, invites, and sustains all of us. As I reflect on that gift in my own life, I enjoy sharing those reflections with you. I try to post about every 7-10 days.
I hope you find spiritual nourishment in this blog. All my reflections and artwork are free for you to use and reproduce in any way you wish. The only remuneration I request is that we pray for one another, and do our best to be Mercy in the world.
God bless us all, Sister Renee Yann, RSM
For the legal part: I am a Sister of Mercy, and this is my personal blog. The opinions within are mine and do not (necessarily) reflect those of any community to which I belong.
Inspired by Labor Day, I am taking on a real labor!
Beginning tonight, I will be shutting down Lavish Mercy for website maintenance, removing material from previous years to edit for future publication, and redesigning the website for a fresh look.
Lavish Mercy has been up for almost ten years. It’s time for a refresh!
I hope to have everything ready in a week or so. Please be patient and stay with me.
DavidRock Design Free for use under Pixabay Content License
Labor Day was first celebrated on September 5, 1882, in New York City with a parade organized by the Central Labor Union. It became an official federal holiday on June 28, 1894, when President Grover Cleveland signed legislation establishing the first Monday in September as a national holiday. (Wiki)
The day may invite us to reflect on many things:
the final celebrations of summer
the beginning of a new school year and all its possibilities
the responsibilities that accompany a changing season
the meaning of labor and work in our lives and in our society
It is that final point that deserves our attention today.
by Arthur Silvaa Free for use under Pixabay Content License
When we picture the American worker, we often imagine members of the labor force represented by unions: teachers, nurses, sanitation workers, police officers, and countless others whose efforts sustain our communities.
For me, Labor Day brings to mind my father, a safety-awarded truck driver for Cooper-Jarrett. With a Teamsters pin on his cap, he often left for work before dawn. I remember him returning home exhausted at times, yet deeply satisfied by the work he had accomplished. He valued his union membership, and when he was seriously injured in a workplace accident, the protections it provided became an economic lifeline for our family.
Photo by Ronald Plett Free for use under Pixabay Content License
I also think of relatives whose livelihoods were not protected by union membership:
my mother who, before I was born, spent years as a Bell Telephone operator;
my grandfather and uncles who worked on the production lines of the Budd Company
my great-grandmother who, like many Irish immigrants, labored in a nineteenth-century textile mill.
Their stories instilled in me a deep respect for honest work and a pride in belonging to a working family. Like many young people of my generation, I eagerly obtained my working papers as soon as I turned fourteen. I went on to earn a whopping $1.10 an hour for the next four years! I suspect many readers can tell similar stories.
Yet the world I have just described is a world of the past. It belongs to the age of the Industrial Revolution and its aftermath. Today, the realities of labor and work are being reshaped by extraordinary advances in science and technology. Amid such rapid change, the human person needs an anchor.
from vaticannews.va
During the immense upheaval of the Industrial Revolution, Pope Leo XIII provided such an anchor through his landmark 1891 encyclical Rerum Novarum. Addressing the conditions faced by workers, while articulating enduring principles of Catholic social teaching, the document emphasized the dignity of the human person, the rights of laborers, and the demands of justice. More than a century later, its wisdom continues to shape moral and social discourse throughout the world.
from vaticannews.va
As we observe Labor Day 2026, we should turn our attention to Pope Leo XIV’s recent encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas, published this past spring. Just as Leo XIII addressed the challenges of industrialization, Leo XIV applies the enduring insights of Catholic social teaching to a world increasingly shaped by artificial intelligence and emerging technologies.
Many of you have had a chance over the summer to give the encyclical the careful and prayerful reflection it deserves. For me, three passages, in particular, speak powerfully to the meaning of work and human dignity in our own time. It might be best not to read them all at once, but to take one to ponder each day this week.
Leo XIII’s Encyclical Rerum Novarum constitutes a milestone in the development of the Church’s social teaching. The document places the dignity of work and of workers at the forefront of its reflection; affirms the right to a fair wage for oneself and one’s family; recognizes that persons have a fundamental value that takes precedence over capital and profit; defends private property along with its indispensable societal role; esteems workers’ associations; and proposes forms of cooperation between the different components of society as an alternative to the mentality of class struggle. It is not surprising, then, that Pius XI defined it as the “ Magna Carta” [25] of Christian social action. In Rerum Novarum, the Church’s ancient wisdom regarding the human person and life in society took on a new form capable of responding to the industrial age and offering the first major systematic framework for the Social Doctrine that would be further developed in the following decades. While many of the historical conditions described by Leo XIII have changed, at least two insights remain highly relevant today: the primacy of human labor over any mindset focused solely on finance or productivity — with the consequent attention to the people and families most susceptible to exploitation — and the inseparable link between proclaiming the Gospel and pursuing a more just social order. Rerum Novarum thereby continues to remind us that there is no authentic evangelization that does not also affect the structures of human society. (Magnifica Humanitas, 30)
Having recalled the principles that shine a light on Social Doctrine, I would now like to focus on certain challenges that profoundly shape our way of living today. The biblical image accompanying these reflections is that of a building project. On the one hand, there is the Tower of Babel, where collective effort follows a plan that dominates and ultimately dehumanizes (cf. Gen 11:1-9). On the other hand, there are the ruins of Jerusalem, which under Nehemiah’s direction are rebuilt piece by piece as a project of shared responsibility (cf. Neh 2–6). We are called to reflect on the great “construction sites” of our era and ask: What are we building? As technological development rapidly transforms languages, relationships, institutions and forms of power, we believers must and can choose which projects to work on and in what manner, so as to safeguard and value the grandeur of humanity that has been given to us as a gift. This is a choice not only for our future but also for our present, since artificial intelligence and other emerging technologies are already part of our daily lives. (Magnifica Humanitas, 90)
I am convinced that the concrete way of living out social relationships in the light of the Gospel is not established once and for all, but remains a task entrusted, from generation to generation, to the Christian community. Under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, the Church allows herself to be enlightened by God’s word, reads the signs of the times and creatively seeks new ways for relationships between peoples and nations to become ever more conformed to the demands of the Kingdom of God. [118] For this reason, I encourage all members of the Church not to be afraid of the present challenges, but to listen to one another and firmly embrace their responsibilities in building a more humane and fraternal society.(Magnifica Humanitas, 91)
These passages remind us that the Church’s concern for workers has never been limited to wages, working conditions, or economic systems. At its heart, Catholic social teaching frames these concerns: What does it mean to be human, to be a creature of God, to live in the community of Creation?
These questions become increasingly urgent as artificial intelligence transforms communication, employment, education, healthcare, commerce, and even our understanding of human relationships. The challenge facing the human community is critical – that of ensuring that technological progress remains at the service of the human person and the Creation we share.
In the encyclical, the image of two construction projects—the Tower of Babel and the rebuilding of Jerusalem—is especially compelling. Every generation is called to participate in the unfolding of Creation. Will the contribution of this generation diminish human dignity or strengthen it; will it isolate people or unite them; will it serve only power and wealth, or will it promote the universal common good?
Labor Day offers an ideal moment to reflect on those questions. It reminds us that work is never merely about productivity. Work is about people, families, communities, and human flourishing. It is about participating in God’s ongoing work of creation.
While researching this article, I came across the U.S. Department of Labor’s Hall of Honor, which recognizes notable figures associated with the American labor movement. One individual who particularly caught my attention was Frances Perkins, whose remarkable life I recently encountered in Stephanie Dray’s excellent novel, Becoming Madame Secretary. Perkins’s story has inspired me to learn more about other leaders who helped shape the rights and protections many workers enjoy today. Perhaps some readers may wish to undertake that exploration as well.
To learn more about notable figures in the American labor movement, visit the U.S. Department of Labor Hall of Honor.
Happy and blessed Labor Day to all of you, and let us pray for these blessings for all, no matter their citizenship, who work hard every day to support their families and communities.
Many things live, not just the plants, animals and humans that grace our world. Memories and promises live. Vows live. Unlike our physical life, these less tangible realities become stronger with time. Tales of valor and achievement live, often becoming epic with the passing of the years.
Mercy lives too, blessing not only the current receiver, but the unseen generations to whom it is passed.
Every morning, old fears and new hopes wake up within us all. They vie with each other to become the engines of our lives. The happy ones among us have learned to let hope win.
Mother Patricia Waldron outside Merion’s chapel building, holding a flower. circa 1915
On this date August 22, 1861, a small group of just such happy, hopeful people came to Philadelphia. On that hot August afternoon, the first Philadelphia Sisters of Mercy, led by 26-year old Patricia Waldron, arrived at Broad Street Station in North Philadelphia. They carried no worldly possessions. They came with only a dream for Mercy. It was a dream so alive in them that it still inspires us today, 161 years later.
Can’t you see them standing on the busy platform, the hissing steam trains encircling them in mist? They must have felt “be-misted” themselves, these mostly Irish country girls engulfed in a big city.
Union troops heading south crowded the platform. Busy Broad Street crackled with news of the burgeoning national strife. Lincoln himself would visit the city in the coming weeks.
And hidden within the seams of this bustling city’s garment lay the poor – the ones for whom they had come. How to reach them? How to help them change their lives?
Ranging from sixteen to twenty-seven years old, these brave young women had been charged with establishing a kind of “new nation” themselves – not of politics, but of mercy. No doubt they, like the young stout-hearted soldiers surrounding them, were also a little weak-kneed. They too had their battles to face. They too would see starvation, illness, attack and death – but their spirits would endure for the sake of the Mercy dream, God’s dream for the poor.
Mercy Cemetery – Merion, PA
Enduring dreams begin with small first steps. So, hailing a horse-drawn carriage, Mother Patricia Waldron led her young band to their new lives. At first, they lived in a small house in Assumption Parish, Philadelphia.
Not too much later, the growing band moved to the venerable Broad Street Convent, now of happy memory.
Convent of Mercy – Broad Street and Columbia Avenue, Philadelphia
Thus, on this date, Mother Patricia and her companions began the grace-filled saga many of us know so well and of which we are a part today. Their dream lives in us who love Mercy:
in our continued effort to find those who are poor and sick in a world that ignores them
in our choice to be compassionate in a world that often chooses violence
in our commitment to care in a world of treacherous indifference
On that sultry August day 1861, and on this one 2022, people have choices to make. They have vows and promises to keep. Some choices live forever. In the name of Mercy, what will you choose today?
Sister Jeanette Goglia conducts “Circle of Mercy” at the Sesquicentennial celebration at Philadelphia’s Kimmel Center.
Click white arrowhead above to hear Circle of Mercy
