In days of 2016,
with the planet wounded near to death,
and humans threatening
annulation as normal negotiation,
we turn to Mercy as a mother,
relying on her tender arms
to protect the best
of human understanding,
conforming, in our brokenness
that our strength and our comfort
depend on our trust in Mercy,
who cares for us most compassionately
when we are weakest,
trusting Mercy as a mother.
One Sunday cannot substitute
for a Holy Year of Sundays
that celebrate Mercy,
except by token, symbolically.
We cram into Mercy Sunday
the image of Christmas, Thanksgiving,
and all the days of Easter,
with Alleluias, carols and every form
of the music
by which we humans march.
We see the gift of Mercy
piled high on holidays,
yet never failing to make appearance
on the dullest, dreariest day,
the sunshine for insights
and the rain for growing ideas,
with tons and tons of Mercy’s contribution
for every ounce of human effort.
A gentle smile of accomplishment,
with shoulders bowed in deference,
will profer Mercy tribute,
before we explode in pious jubelruf.**
Mercy Sunday, April 3, 2016
Bonaventure Stefun, OFM Cap.
**"jubilant shout" or "triumphant cheer"