As we draw close to the Holy Season that will close our year, let’s welcome each final day as an extraordinary gift, grateful for the faith, hope, and love that sustain our lives.
Music: “Your Love” from “Once Upon A Time in the West” ” – by Ennio Morricone – performed by Hauser
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?
It may be a bit early, but as we draw closer to the season of Thanksgiving, it is time to make preparations for our “family eucharist”.
Families pass batons much like relay teams do. One generation hands its gifts and stories on to the next. Eventually, the cycle of love and tradition wears a deep path in history that becomes known by your family name.
How often do we see a newborn child and comment that she has her grandmother’s eyes? How many times have we said to someone, “You remind me so much of your father.”? Whenever we see the pattern of strength and generosity repeated through the generations, we are given reason to hope and to be grateful.
In our family, the making of the Thanksgiving pies is a beloved tradition. Over the years, it has passed from my grandmother to my mother, my father, my brother, and me. Like many family traditions, pie-making has become a mark of our family – a “charism”, if you will – symbolizing our desire to feed, support, and love one another. It is also a way of remembering those who have taught us its intricacies.
30 years ago....
Over thirty years ago, I went into the kitchen and found my oldest niece, then about nine years old, preparing the pie crust and stirring the filling. Looking at her, I realized that she and her brother and sisters are the beloved hope of our family’s future and the blessed confirmation of its past. Now, I have the joy of seeing their children making the Thanksgiving pies – so symbolic of that renewed hope and blessing – and such a source of joy.
Cookies Count TooPie with GrandpaSome prefer to eat pieTraining without product!Where’s the meat …?
The Newest Generation
Be especially mindful of your children this Thanksgiving. Confirm in them the traditions they continue and the newness they contribute to your family. Whether they sit over at the kids’ table or have joined you at the “big table”, make Thanksgiving Day a special time to love them. Share the stories that connect them to their heritage. Offer them that irreplaceable stability as they create their unique chapter of your family’s story.
Such simple moments can offer us a eucharistic grace –
the welcoming of all at a shared table,
the telling of stories that define our values,
the exchange of joyful hope, and the security of forgiveness with our familial community
the challenge and encouragement to model such hope in the world
Surely at such times, Jesus is with us, reminding us to “Do this in memory of Me.” As we pass the bread – or the pie – to one another, let’s remember the power of such Love.
My Mom’s Family-Famous Chocolate Pie
Music: “Family is Family” from the movie “Family Camp”
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?
November 11, 2025 184th Anniversary of the Death of Catherine McAuley
Venerable Catherine McAuley (left) and Frances Warde in Our Lady of Mercy Window BASILICA of the NATIONAL SHRINE of the IMMACULATE CONCEPTION Washington, DC
Fifteen years ago, as the Sisters of Mercy in Merion, Pennsylvania, prepared for the Sesquicentennial of our founding, we imagined what Catherine McAuley might write to us as we celebrated.
As we lovingly remember her today, on the anniversary of her death, perhaps you would enjoy reading the imagined letter she so graciously sent us:
Beloveds in Mercy,
I wish I could be with you in person on this special occasion, but – well, I’m sure you understand. In place of that, I hope this letter brings you the warm blessing of knowing how grateful I am to each of you.
When I was contacted to offer you a few words, I indicated that I had already been talking with all of you for quite some time. If each one of you would think, just for a moment, our first conversation will come back to you. It was the moment you realized that when you serve someone in the name of Mercy, you share the glorious and humbling call that I received so long ago. You share the work of God!
You and I may have talked in your classrooms or labs, in the crowded corridors at the change of class, or on your way home after a tiring week. We may have spoken just before a Board meeting, or in the midst of a celebration such as the one that brings us here today. Perhaps we spoke at a hospital bedside, or kneeling beside a warm street grate on a snowy night.
Our connection happened in that moment when you realized, as I did in my own life, that you loved your wards and life companions the way God loves them – wanting their good, forgiving their shortcomings, honored to be with them on life’s journey. You loved them with Mercy.
For some of you, that sacred realization came when you helped a young person recover her self-esteem. For others, it came when you listened patiently to a harried parent until he found his way back to confidence. For some of you, it was the pride you took in keeping the school beautiful, the records in order, the cafeteria churning. For some, it was the mutual support you found among your peers. For others, it was the ministry of sponsorship that you have exercised in my name for the sake of those we serve.
For many of you, it was the needy cry of the world outside a school or hospital. It was your courage to help your students and co-workers hear that cry too, and to guide them toward a merciful response. It is a call repeated to others by your witness of fidelity, justice, and charity in a tumultuous world.
How proud I am of each and every one of you! Long ago, when I still walked the streets of Dublin, I had already thought of you. It’s true! On a spring afternoon, passing by the sycamores of St. Stephen’s Green, I would imagine someone, long into the future, fired with the same passion for mercy that filled my own heart. That someone was you. Even then, when our little community was only a seedling, I knew it would endure and spread like a noble tree. I could already see its leaves shimmering with your names.
Over these nearly 200 years, I have slowly learned each of your names by heart – the thousands who have preceded you, and the thousands who will come after. You are one – and a very dear and special one – in an infinite line of compassion. You are the eternal reach of God into human need. You are the tender community of Mercy.
Today’s ritual marks a significant time in the evolution of this community. It is a time of reminiscence, gratitude, blessing, and hope. I give you my everlasting thanks for joining your heart to this mission and your courage to carry it into the future. It was God’s dream in me so long ago, and it endures because of you.
But the years also bring change, which carries its own considerations, I know. I went through many changes and challenges in my short ten years of ministry. And the changes over two centuries – oh, I can’t begin to tell you! They can bring hesitation and worry, but they also offer the opportunity for faith and creativity. As I encouraged my first Sisters long ago, “We have one solid comfort amidst this little tripping about, our hearts can always be in the same place, centered in God, for whom alone we go forward or stay back.”
My final words to you today are these: trust our Merciful God who is always with us. Your trust will bring a new grace and a new call. It is the next imagination of mercy, and you are its architects! Be faithful and be blessed. Be Mercy in the world!
And, oh my friends, will we all meet in heaven? What joy even to think of it!
Today, we recognize all our men and women, living and dead, who have served in the United States Armed Forces.
This is not a celebration of war or military strength. Rather, it is an acknowledgement of individual courage, generosity, and patriotism. These are men and women who are willing to stand in the breach for the rest of us to protect our peace and freedom.
Yes, they are brave. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t frightened sometimes, or lonely, or discouraged about the course of international events. Our veterans may show us ribbons, or pictures, or tell proud stories now. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t pay a huge personal price for their years of service. So did their families.
One cannot avoid the fact that there is confusion today among Americans as our military is domestically deployed against unarmed citizens and refugees. Many consider the deployment to be politicized presidential overreach using our military as pawns. We have yet to acknowledge what damage this does to the reputation of our military, the respect earned for 250 years of selfless service, and the well-deserved patriotic pride of its members.
Our men and women in service have made a valiant choice. They deserve to be inspired by leaders who value and honor that choice. Their skills should be deployed in a manner that draws the respect of their countrymen and the world. And upon discharge, they deserve to have the healthcare, housing, and benefits they have earned.
However we feel about war or politics, to serve our country is an admirable contribution to the common good. So if you know a Vet, thank them today for what they have done for you and your family. And if you see a soldier, pilot, sailor, or marine in the airport or mall on this special day, say thanks and God bless you. They answered the call to stand up for everything you have the freedom to celebrate today.
Music: God Bless Our Veterans – Voice of the Lamb (lyrics below)
Come to me all who are weary and burdened I will give you rest and comfort your soul The Lord is close to those with broken hearts He saves those crushed in spirit never apart
In the darkest hours when shadows fall He carries the weight answering the call With gentle hands He heals the pain In His promise of peace we remain
God bless our veterans brave and true In every trial He stands with you Through the pain and the sorrow His love renews With strength from above He sees you through
He mends the hearts that are torn and worn In His gentle touch the wounded are reborn Fear not for He is ever near With His righteous hand casting away your fear
In the darkest hours when shadows fall He carries the weight answering the call With gentle hands He heals the pain In His promise of peace we remain
God bless our veterans brave and true In every trial He stands with you Through the pain and the sorrow His love renews With strength from above He sees you through
Praise be to our God source of all comfort In every affliction His love never falters With the comfort we’ve received we comfort too In His everlasting love all things are renewed
God bless our veterans brave and true In every trial He stands with you Through the pain and the sorrow His love renews With strength from above He sees you through
He mends the hearts that are torn and worn In His gentle touch the wounded are reborn God bless our veterans in His holy light.
The world changes. The evening shadows gather and surprise us, like dinner guests arrived too early.
The meal is not ready; the wine not fully decanted; the candles yet unlit; our warm spirits not yet gathered to receive our visitors, carried by the chilly dark.
It is this way with life as well. Seasons of sadness, loss, longing and incompleteness intrude themselves into our light. We are not ready for their frosty secrets.
Yet they too carry the Great Spirit’s warm caress, though harder to discern.
So challenging to find the way to a peace hidden in darkness. So effortless to keep the path in a summer afternoon’s full light!
Yet we must not shun these blessed November evenings. They squeeze the most amazing brilliance through the vespering clouds.
Be still in their encroaching darkness. It is but a moment until, like a pinprick on velvet, the Evening Star appears tumbling a universe of diamonds into the night.
~ Renee Yann, RSM
Music: Adagio – Tomas Albinoni
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?
Suggested Scripture: Ecclesiastes 3:11
God has made everything beautiful in its time, and has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.
Often, we see someone more clearly in death than we do in life.
One Sunday, nearly 25 years ago, our religious community gathered to commemorate the precious life of our Sister Germaine Donohue. Germaine, who was more familiarly called Mercedes (Mercy), was one of our missionaries in Peru. She was vivacious, compassionate, holy, and too young to die. While ministering in our remote mountain home village of Pacaipampa, Peru, this marathon runner who loved to dance suffered an unexpected heart attack. By the time the neighboring villagers brought her down the eight-hour descent to Lima, she lived only a few more hours. It was All Saints Day.
At her funeral liturgy, the legacy of love she had quietly planted throughout her life blossomed like a field of vibrant wildflowers. Listening to stories that spanned the 40 years of her religious life, it was easy to see how consistently she chose to be with others in simplicity, honesty, and joy. It became clear that everything in her life had led her to a remote mountain village among the poor, who perfectly mirrored her deepest values. They were her heart’s companions.
Just like producing a prize-winning garden, bringing one’s life to such a degree of simplicity and beauty is no easy task. As human beings, we are constantly battling the weeds of self-interest and the complexity it breeds. But when, like Germaine, we choose to learn from those who are poor, we can grow in our capacity to trust a Power greater than ourselves to sustain our lives. We thus become freer to celebrate the beauty of others and of life around us.
For their first ten years in Pacaipampa, our Mercy community had been laboring — without success – to bloom roses in their tiny garden. When the sisters returned from Lima with Sister Germaine’s body to bury her among her beloved poor, they were greeted with the miracle of the first Pacaipampa rose. It blossomed there, a new life among the simple “pueblos jóvenes”. Perhaps they named that rose “Mercedes”.
I share the story of Sister Germaine’s passing because I hope it will offer you the gift it gave to me. The slow, daily, and sometimes frustrating work of building our lives around truly important values will — in the long run — transform and bless us. In everyday decisions, it is difficult to get enough perspective always to realize that. But when our lives are gathered someday in the story-telling of our children, our friends, and our communities, may we be fortunate enough to have left a legacy of beauty — our own miracle “rose”.
Music: El Condor Pasa
This song, popularized by Simon and Garfunkel, is actually drawn from a Peruvian folk song.
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?
Suggested Scripture: Proverbs 31 (Adaptation)
Who can find a merciful woman? She is worth far more than rubies. Her community has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings them good, not harm, all the days of her life. She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her neighbors and portions for the very poor. She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. She sees that her work is fruitful, and her lamp does not go out at night. In her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle with her fingers. She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy. When it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet. She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her beloved community and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her neighbors arise and call her blessed; her family also praises her: “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.” Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman of mercy is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the heavenly gate.
In grade school, we had a course called “Picture Study”. Every Friday afternoon, Sister distributed small blue McLaughlin Notebooks. In them, we found the treasures of the great art galleries – paintings by Monet, Van Gogh, and Rembrandt. One of my favorites was a picture by Millet called “The Angelus”. In it, peasant farmers pause to pray as they gather their small harvest at the close of day. All the colors of late fall had dripped from the artist’s brush to capture feelings of peace, completion and hope.
I have a dear friend who doesn’t like fall. She is a complete and beautiful “summer” spirit! For her, autumn brings a sense of “closing down”. The freedom of summer evaporates; the heavy sharpness of winter looms. Some of us might feel that way as the sunlit hours shrink. But, for the reflective heart, there are deep blessings in Autumn’s ebbing.
Indeed, fall dances to a different tune from summer. The carefree skip of July becomes the thoughtful stroll of late October. It is a time for gathering, for counting the harvest, for putting up the fuel to sustain us through the winter. It is a time no longer to take things for granted. It is a time to pause and prepare. We begin to consider what the waning year has given us, and what it has taken.
As a child, I lived in a very old home originally built to house the 19th century immigrant factory workers of North Philadelphia. The kitchen, added by my grandfather’s own hands, was unheated. In the 1940s, my dad installed a pot-belly stove to warm this preferred gathering spot for our family.
Dad always left for work before the rest of us woke up. Beginning in the late fall, he would light a fire in that little stove every morning. By the time the rest of us assembled for breakfast, a freshly-perked pot of coffee awaited us atop the stove as a greeting from dad. I associated my father with that comfort and that delicious scent. Although we wouldn’t see him until late at night, his kindness accompanied us in the cozy, inviting kitchen every morning.
As deep October approaches, the earth steeps itself like fragrant tea in its own magnificent colors, but the chill suggests the coming change. Seeing this, I remember Dad and realize, such is the work of autumn:
to express beauty in the subtle colors of our kindness
to build the warm fires we know our loved ones will need
to brew the fresh tonic that wakes others to life and warms them against its sometime chill
It is a time now to glean summer’s final fruits and to wrap ourselves in their bounty; to listen, in the snug quiet of our spirits, to the voice of Love in our lives. What does Love ask of us as winter approaches? For each of us, the answers will be different. In the gathering October stillness, to what does the Divine Spirit invite me?
Music: Autumn “Allegro-Adagio Molto” (The Four Seasons) – Antonio Vivaldi
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?
“Pride of Place”. That’s what my Dad called it. I asked him one Sunday when I was about six years old, “How come Mamie Ounan always sits all alone up in that front pew?” Mamie was an elegant old woman, a little like Madame Belvedere in the classic movie, “Mrs. Miniver”. Each Sunday, Mamie Ounan processed up the aisle to commandeer the entire front pew in our parish church.
“Pride of Place”, Dad said. When I looked up at him, clueless, he explained. “Mamie’s been sitting there every Sunday for forty years. She sat there the Sunday after her husband died in a shop accident. She sat there every Sunday through the Depression when she struggled to keep her corner grocery open. She sat there the day her son was killed at Pearl Harbor. All the while, no homeless person ever went away hungry from Mamie’s back steps. She earned that pew and the rest of us are proud for her to have it.”
“Pride of Place” isn’t always something physical like a pew in church. More often it’s a moral or spiritual position that’s granted to us by others after we pay moral dues. These dues include trustworthiness, sacrifice, contribution, and wisdom.
All of us experience at least some “Pride of Place” passages in our lives. Remember when you moved up from the kids’ table at Thanksgiving dinner? Remember being a sophomore on freshman day? Throughout our lives, we advance through grade levels, job levels, military levels, even golf and bridge levels.
But earning real “Pride of Place” is very different from “making it to the top of the heap”. We receive the “Pride of Place” from others who recognize and respect us. We take “the top of the heap” from others who may begrudge it to us. Mamie was given “Pride of Place”. She didn’t take it. Otherwise, someone else would have beaten her to that pew each Sunday.
“Pride of Place” doesn’t come automatically with power or position. It comes with respect. Unfortunately, not every parent, boss, teacher, pastor, elder, president, or champion deserves it. It must be earned and kept as a trust. Even in hard times, its owner has to honor it and use it for others. Jimmy Carter had “Pride of Place”. Richard Nixon never did.
We all have the potential for “Pride of Place” in our lives. We can discover that potential by considering our responsibilities. We have kids, elders, employees, co-workers, neighbors, customers, and friends. We have homes, neighborhoods, and futures. We can impact all these things for better or worse.
Do we dispense those responsibilities with love, courage, and honesty? Do we use the power we have for others, not over or against them? Mamie Ounan, that little old lady in a tiny city neighborhood, had tremendous power. She gave people hope and example by the way she endured, by the way she cared, and by the way she lived.
If we haven’t begun to exercise that kind of power in our lives, maybe it’s time to stand up from the kids’ table and walk toward our own “Pride of Place”.
Music: The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba – George Frideric Handel
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?
Suggested Scripture– Proverbs 31 – Adaptation
Who shall find a valiant woman? She is worth far more than rubies. Her family has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings them good, not harm, all the days of her life. She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her neighbors and portions for the very poor. She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. She sees that her work is fruitful, and her lamp does not go out at night. In her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle with her fingers. She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy. When it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet. She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her beloveds and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her neighbors arise and call her blessed; her family also praises her: “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.” Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a generous woman is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the heavenly gate.
That long-ago October was particularly brilliant. It was one of those rare seasons where each morning was filled with sunshine and promise. It was a month that measured up to the poet, Helen Hunt Jackson’s, description:
O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October’s bright blue weather.
I remember that October so well because one of my friends was dying, stricken suddenly and irrevocably by a severe pneumonia. Only two of us could visit at a time, so I, along with her many other friends, would gather at times on the bench outside the hospital where she struggled to survive. We would watch that bright blue sky and turn over and over in our minds those questions that have no answers. Why so young, why now, why her?
Starling Murmuration – Joe Hisaishi
Flocks of starlings were in their seasonal dance, bold against that brilliant blue sky. Maybe you have noticed a few already this month, swerving through the air in their perfectly balanced helix, like smoke at the wind’s disposal. I remember watching them during that distant October, wondering if we had told Gail often enough how precious she was. She was a small, humble, and joyous person – very quiet and unassuming. I wondered if people fully understood the powerhouse of generosity and goodness underneath that humility.
Gail De Macedo, RSM August 11, 1937 – October 14, 1995
I found the answer at her funeral. Hundreds of people jammed the lanes to our Motherhouse and filled the chapel with their song to celebrate her life. She had quietly made her mark – and what a mark it was! Now, years later, the sharp edge of her loss has dulled somewhat, but her bold, quiet, courageous legacy has only deepened. In times when I need the gifts of humility, patience, generosity, and kindness, I pray to her. She always helps me.
Over this weekend, we should begin to see that “bright blue weather”. Watch for the graceful starlings, pirouetting their way to a winter refuge. Above all, as you wonder at Creation, reflect on love and kindness. Honor these virtues where you find them in yourself and your neighbors. They endure beyond all seasons.
Music: No More Goodbyes – Tom Dermody
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?
Today, for your reflection, a poem I wrote decades go. I offer it today in memory of Judy Ward, RSM who passed away on September 27, 2025. Her life will be celebrated on October 2nd in a Mass of Christian Burialin the chapel at Mt. St. Mary, where Judy attended school, became a Sister of Mercy, and taught for many years.
Judy, a gifted artist, did so much to encourage me and to illustrate and promulgate my work. I will miss her generous kindness and her friendship.
October is a time when nature changes clothes. Leaves, like miniature volcanoes, flare up and die, ashes at the foot of a silent, seemingly immortal tree. Geese, having dawdled all summer in veiled expectation, suddenly leap into the clouds and disappear. These solemn miracles may incline us to consider our own impermanence and the gossamer phenomenon we call life.
Healing
Music: A Playlist of Autumn Music
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?
Lavish Mercy 