Remembering the People of Nepal . . .

 

A Prayer for Comfort, Safety, and Peace

Loving and merciful God,
We lift up the people of Nepal in this hour of deep sorrow, uncertainty, and hardship.

• Comfort the families who are grieving loved ones lost to the sudden flash floods and recent unrest.
• Protect those who remain in danger, and grant safety to communities displaced or frightened by chaos.
• Strengthen first responders, rescue workers, and medical personnel as they search for the missing and care for the injured in difficult terrain.
• Guide the nation’s leaders and youth with wisdom, courage, and a shared commitment to peace and healing.

Bring restoration, hope, and steady reassurance to the entire nation of Nepal.
Amen.

Rescuers carry a victim of flash flooding to safety along the Trishuli River in Nepal's Nuwakot district, Wednesday, Aug. 26, 2026. (AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)(Niranjan Shrestha | AP Photo/Niranjan Shrestha)

The Right Key . . .

Helen Keller with Anne Sullivan in July 1888

Dr.  Frank Mayfield was touring Tewksbury Institute when he collided with an elderly floor maid.  To cover the awkward moment he asked, "How long have you worked here?" "Almost since the place opened," the maid replied.  "What can you tell me about this place?" he asked.  "I’ll show you." She led him to the basement.  She pointed to small prison cells, their bars rusted with age.  She said, "That's where they kept Annie." "Who's Annie?" he asked.  "A young girl brought here because she was incorrigible.  Nobody could do anything with her.  She'd bite and scream and throw her food at people.  The doctors and nurses couldn't get near her.  I'd see them trying, with her spitting and scratching.  I was only a few years younger, and I used to think, 'I sure would hate to be locked up in a cage.' I wanted to help her, but if the doctors and nurses couldn't help her, what could someone like me do?  so I baked her brownies.  I walked carefully to her cage and said, 'Annie I baked brownies just for you.’  I'll put them down and then I got out of there as fast as I could.  I was afraid she might throw them at me.  But she took the brownies and ate them.  After that, she was nice to me.  Sometimes I'd talk to her.  Once, I got her laughing.  A nurse noticed and told the doctor.  They asked me if I'd help them with Annie.  I said I’d try.  So every time they wanted to see or examine her, I went into the cage and calmed her down and held her hand.  They discovered Annie was almost blind. After they worked with her a year, Perkins Institute for the Blind opened.  They helped her and she went on to study and become a teacher. 

 

Years later Annie came back to the Tewksbury to visit and asked what she might do to help.  The Director had just received a letter from a man about his daughter.  She was unruly, blind and deaf, deranged and animalistic … but He didn't want to put her in an asylum.  So he wrote to ask if we knew a teacher who would work with his daughter." That is how Annie Sullivan became the lifelong companion of Helen Keller.  Years later, when Keller received the Nobel Prize, she was asked who had the greatest impact on her life.  She said, "Annie Sullivan." But Annie said, "No Helen.  The woman with the greatest influence on both our lives was a floor maid at the Tewksbury Institute.”

 

A scrub maid, who chose to use her power of the keys

          An almost blind incorrigible

          Who chose to use her power of the keys

          And for all that unlocking

                    A world was enriched, a Nobel laureate emerged

                    And a story of dyadic love again finds incarnation.

 

---

A Song of Fall . . .

 

Fall Song

Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,
the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back
from the particular island
of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere
except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle
of unobservable mysteries – - -roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This
I try to remember when time’s measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn
flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay – - – how everything lives, shifting
from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.
-Mary Oliver

 

Lectio Divina of Earth

 

How surely gravity’s law, strong as an ocean current, takes hold of even the strongest thing and pulls it toward the heart of the world.

Each thing – each stone, blossom, child – is held in place. Only we, in our arrogance, push out beyond what we belong to for some empty freedom.

If we surrendered to earth’s intelligence we could rise up rooted, like trees.

Instead we entangle ourselves in knots of our own making and struggle, lonely and confused.

So, like children, we begin again to learn from the things, because they are in God’s heart, they have never left God.

This is what the things can teach us; to fall, patiently to trust our heaviness.

Even a bird has to do that before she can fly.

                                                                                      

   --Rainer Maria Rilke

 

For Pondering:

• Where and when do you experience yourself rooted in the Earth?
• Where in your life do you sense that you are in need of grounding?
• How in your life do you honor the changes, movements, and subtle shifts of the seasons?
• What have you learned from your experiences in life that are in “God’s heart”?
• Have you ever had to learn from “falling” and trust in your own “heaviness” of life’s challenges and gifts?  

      Photos courtesy of S. Doris Klein, CSA

The Face of Magnanimity . . .

 

A Glass of Milk . . . 

Paid in Full  

 

One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way through school, found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry. He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door.

Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so brought him a large glass of milk.

He drank it slowly, and then asked, “How much do I owe you?”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she replied. “Mother has taught us never to accept pay for a kindness.”

He said, “Then I thank you from my heart.”

As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but his faith in God and humankind was strong also. He had been ready to give up and quit.

Years later that young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where they called in specialists to study her rare disease.

Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes. Immediately he rose and went down the hall of the hospital to her room.

Dressed in his doctor’s gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once. He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to save her life. From that day he gave special attention to the case.

After a long struggle, the battle was won. Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it, and then wrote something on the edge and the bill was sent to her room.

She feared to open it, for she was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for it all. Finally she looked, and something caught her attention on the side of the bill. She began to read the following words:

“Paid in full with one glass of milk.

Signed, Dr. Howard Kelly.”

Author Unknown

The Practice of Being:

 

            Artist: Johannes Vermeer: Christ in the House of Martha and Mary

The Twenty-Second Sunday of Ordinary Time 2026 

August 30, 2026

www.johnpredmoresj.com | predmore.blogspot.com

Jeremiah 20:1-9; Psalm 63; Romans 12:1-2; Matthew 16:21-27

 

 

These are difficult words by Jesus for us to hear and to understand. Peter took exception to them when he tried to protect Jesus, so it is natural for us to resist what these words mean. The Cross means pain, suffering, and death before it can lead to glory. We naturally avoid pain and conflict, even minor engagements because it disrupts the peace and comfort that we rely upon. The Cross shakes the foundation of the world, and we must be ready for momentous change.

 

We are given crosses individually and we are asked to engage them and to follow Jesus. We therefore pray for courage because these are painful situations. We are asked to follow Jesus and adopt his way of life. Notice that Jesus does not ask us to adore him or to honor him or to worship him. He asks us to follow him and to worship God, the Father, the Parent, the Creator. Jesus calls us into friendship and into a community of believers who are striving to live in right relationship with neighbor.

 

What does it mean to be with Jesus? The focus shifts from what you do for him to getting to know the person himself. It is about developing a deeper relationship, increasing intimacy, and learning to be attentively present. This is what we want to happen in prayer. So, doing devotions is much less important that having a dialogue in prayer with Jesus. He does not really focus much on devotions. He wants you to come sit with him and come to know him. Think more about abiding presence that you can do in your backyard, on your patio, walking along the seashore, or your favorite place of relaxation. Give yourself over to those places and events where Jesus is present to you. 

 

It may be time to think about Jesus as an interested friend who wants to know something about your life. We therefore share our honest emotions, thoughts, and desires with him. It means that we approach God less as a master to obey and more like someone who wants to know the nuances of your daily life. Jesus wants to be immersed in your world. Sometimes, you do not even have to talk. You can sit there and waste time with one another. You simply want to be with the One who wants to be with you. 

 

By simply relaxing in the presence of Jesus, we develop an awareness of how the Holy Spirit is guiding us through everyday moments, like invitations, prompts, musings, and it can be at work, through conversations, through the words of another person, as well as quiet times. The Spirit wants to show us how distinctly and uniquely Jesus relates to us. We know the Spirit is present when we begin to have a metanoia, a time when our attitudes are transformed, when a word is softened, when our consciousness is expanded. The Spirit works from the inside out and we can notice remarkable changes over time. The power of being with, of listening, of simply attending is the future of the church, the future of our lives. Being with allows us to receive the wisdom of God with grace. 

 

In heaven, in God’s reign, there are no problems to fix. We simply learn to be with each other. On earth, we have to practice being with each other. What if we lived today as if we are already in God’s presence? 

 

A soothing for your spirit . . .

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjOioWTVAl4

A Welcoming of the Quiet of Night . . .

God, you have been with me all through the day, stay with me now.  As the shadows lengthen into darkness let the noisy world grow quiet, let its feverish concerns be stilled, its voices silenced.

In the final moments of this day remind me of what is real, true, and good. But let me not forget that you were as present in the stresses of the day just past as you are now in the silence of this night.

You have made me for day and for night, for work and for rest, for both heaven and earth. Here in this night, let me embrace and not regret the mysterious beauty of my humanity. Keep me in the embrace of your unconditional love through the night, and the day to come.

Surround us with your silence and give us the rest that only you can give . . .  peace now and forever.     


(Adapted: My Day Is Ending, Evelyn Underhill . . . original source unknown)

The God of Being:

 

The Twenty-First Sunday of Ordinary Time 2026 

August 23, 2026

www.johnpredmoresj.com | predmore.blogspot.com

Isaiah 22:19-23; Psalm 138; Romans 11:33-36; Matthew 16:13-20

 

 Who do you say that I am? Peter gets it right, while the other disciples give some good, plausible answers. Notice that each person has a different answer and distinct experience of Jesus. Peter answers “The Christ, the Son of the Living God.” Those are almost two answers. Let us start with the first one – The Christ. 

 Who is the Christ? We know the title means Messiah, so what do we expect the Messiah to do for us? Most would answer, “To save us.” From what? Sin and guilt. That has not happened. It kind of presupposes that we are problems to be fixed. That is a difficult starting point for theology. Is it possible that Jesus did not come to fix us, but to be in communion with us?

 We sometimes project Jesus Christ to be the new powerful Goliath instead of the resilient underdog, David. The Church is a manifestation of Christ. In our perceptions, the Church is supposed to be huge, important players on the national stage, the acknowledged voice of the people, all the things Goliath was, and all the things that David was not. The irony is that David became the inflated, bullying Goliath he sought to defeat. Many want the Church today to be Goliath, while it is turning back into the smaller David, the one who was full of hope, confidence, and not needing any power or bombastic big talk. 

 Jesus was the disarmed young David who faced the Goliath of empire and death and remains that young armor-less David, armed only with trust in God. Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” because he wants to make certain they do not turn him into the King David of power, politics, and conquest. We may turn Jesus into Goliath in our imaginations, our politics, our rhetoric, and even in our worship, but Jesus never became Goliath. He remains the little guy. 

 The second part of the answer, the Son of the Living God, provides a fuller portrait. The role of Jesus was to be the utter embodiment in time of God’s purpose to be with us forever. We do not need to be fixed. Christ comes into communion with us as a conversation partner. The purpose of Christ’s incarnation was so that we would perpetually be in a relationship with the Triune God. God, through Jesus, showed us that “being with” us is what is important. It is what God wants most of all. The heart of our faith is that the mystery of the living God, revealed in Jesus Christ, is love itself expressed by sharing communion. If Jesus Christ were to ask me today, “Who do you say that I am?” I would have to answer, “You are God’s love and essence shared with each of us. You call us into communion and relationship with one another. You are the one who wants to be “with us.” You help us to become completely free, open to others, people who can build healthy and beautiful relationships, and you call us to embrace others as God does.” Who are you? You are God “being with” us. 

 

 

For the Gift of Today . . .

 

 

Gracious God,
thank you for the gift of today.
Refresh me . . . Invite me . . .
to discover Your Presence in each person
that I meet, and every event encountered.

Teach me when to speak and when to listen,
when to ponder and when to share.
In moments of challenge and decision attune my
heart to the whisperings of Your Wisdom.

As I undertake ordinary and unnoticed tasks,
gift me with simple Joy.
When my day goes well, may I rejoice!
When it grows difficult
surprise me with new possibilities.

When life is overwhelming
call me to Sabbath moments
to restore Your Peace and Harmony.
May my living today
reveal your goodness.
Amen.

(Author Unknown)

    

Remembering All the Little Ones Clutching . . .

 

 

The Garments

Of God

By

Jessica Powers

 God sits on a chair of darkness in my soul.

He is God alone, supreme in His majesty.

I sit at His feet, a child in the dark beside Him;

my joy is aware of His glance and my sorrow is tempted

to nest on the thought that His face is turned from me.

He is clothed in the robes of His mercy, voluminous

garments –

no velvet or silk and affable to the touch,

but fabric strong for a frantic hand to clutch,

and I hold to it fast with the fingers of my will.

Here is my cry of faith, my deep avowal

to the Divinity that I am dust.

Here is the loud profession of my trust.

I need not go abroad

to the hills of speech or the hinterlands of music

for a crier to walk in my soul where all is still.

I have this potent prayer through good or ill:

Here in the dark, I clutch the garments of God.

 

Remembering Jessica Powers: d. August 18, 1988

Art by Jay Bryant, Little One

 

A Voice of Great Faith . . .

August 16, 2026

 

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/081626.cfm

 https://www.catholicwomenpreach.org/preaching/08162026

Tanya

Rybarczyk

Oh woman, great is your faith!

I wonder… what is Jesus speaking to when he says this? What is he responding to in this woman, in this moment, when he acknowledges her “great faith”?

As Easter people in our time and place, with 2000 years of theology behind us, it’s easy to default to an understanding of faith as belief in Jesus: belief in him as the incarnate one, as the son of God, the Word of God, believing in him as the Christ.  As such, faith becomes an internal stance, a directional focus, keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus. But this clearly isn’t what Jesus is focused on, at least not this story. If it was, he would have granted the Canaanite woman’s request as soon as she addressed him: “Lord, son of David, have mercy on me.” But in fact he doesn’t; he first ignores her, and then, after the disciples call on him to send her away, he dismisses her as not being part of his flock. Despite her calling him Lord, Jesus claims he is not hershepherd.

Whether Jesus really believes this and needs to grow his own understanding, or is purposely inviting the conversation that follows, or is a momentarily tired and grumpy human being not wanting to be bothered, this woman is clearly prepared to counter any obstacle for the sake of her daughter. So when Jesus calls her a dog, a common slur referring to gentiles, she is ready with a response, even as she pays him homage. If you look at the Greek, what she says to him is in effect: “even the little dogs – the pets -- make a meal of the crumbs that the children give them.”

This brings me immediately back to when my youngest niece was six, and we were visiting our in-laws in their home. Their black lab puppy Lucy was begging at the table, and my sister-in-law, who is as formidable as they come, told us that their family “NEVER, EVER feeds the dog anything from the table.” Not 3 minutes later I saw my 6-year-old niece, fast as lightning flip some food to Lucy. When she realized I saw, she looked at me wide eyed, finger over her mouth, silently begging me not to tell.  

When this woman answers Jesus, she is pointing to the natural compassion of children. She is begging Jesus (who elsewhere asks us to come to him as a little child!), to have the compassion that a child has for their little dog…to give her the crumb, believing that the crumb will be enough, and arguing for the truth that all are sustained by God, that all are meant to fall under Christ’s care. THIS is when Jesus praises her great faith! This woman speaks forth compassion – fights for it on behalf of her daughter -- and her daughter is healed!

Friends, we know this woman, don’t we? We’ve seen her: in our friends, our mothers, our daughters, our sisters. We’ve been her! She is the mother who will walk barefoot over broken glass to get her daughter the care she needs; someone who fights for years for the life of her son or brother lost to addiction; that mama bear that goes up against school systems, and justice institutions and political machines so that her child and all who follow after might be raised in a more equitable, compassionate community. I think of immigrant and refugee moms, shepherding their children literally across countries to begin life in a foreign land in relative safety. We know her. We know the late nights, and the exhaustion, the willingness to grovel, the hidden tears, the worry and the struggle. We know the prayers whispered in the middle of the night and also at noon, and what it is like to be consumed by a compassion that fuels persistence and resourcefulness and fierceness and strength.

Pope Francis famously said, compassion is the language of God. And he was careful to note that compassion is not the same as pity, but a force that, when it takes hold of us, propels us, he says, “to get involved in the problems of others.”  He said “compassion takes us along the path to true justice… and this always saves us from selfishness, from indifference, from our own closure.” (Homily at Sept 17, 2019 Mass) This woman, out of compassion for her daughter, speaks the language of God’s heart to God’s son, and he esteems it as FAITH!  

Friends, imagine what might happen if we fully embraced and embodied this concept of faith! Imagine first how we would feel if credited ourselves with “great faith” on those days when getting out of bed is hard, but knowing Christ is with us, we rise and try to be love in the world for another day, even during those messy times, or those times when things look dark. Sometimes, this looks and feels like exhaustion, and it might feel our faith is the size of a mustard seed…but we know what Christ says about that!

And then imagine what healing we might bring forth into the world if, like our Canaanite woman, we manifest a compassion that propels us to fight for justice on behalf of those we are called to love, which, according to our gospel is EVERYONE, but  particularly, according to our Church’s teaching, those who are tormented by demons of their own, lost, hurting, disempowered, silenced, and especially those we may not immediately “see” or recognize as part of our neighborhood, our Church, our “flock.”

Friends, to keep our eyes fixed on the least of these IS to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus. In them is where he is found. To show compassion, to get “involved in their lives,” to have them in mind when decisions are being made or votes are being cast, is to get involved in the life of God. It is to speak God’s language. And this, my friends, is what Christ himself credits as great faith.

 

 

Tanya Rybarczyk is a preacher, writer, minister and retreat leader who specializes in adult faith formation, Catholic contemplative prayer practices and spiritual caregiving. Tanya ministered as a Pastoral Associate at Saint Cecilia Parish, Boston, as the Director of Spiritual Care at Elizabeth Seton Residence in Wellesley, MA, and as a Program Assistant for Ignatian Volunteer Corps, New England. Tanya was an adjunct retreat team member at Holy Family Passionist Retreat Center in West Hartford, CT, and continues to speak and offer guided retreats and workshops at Parishes and Spirituality Centers in New England and throughout the Pacific Northwest. She is currently part of the inaugural cohort of PROCLAIM, a preaching formation program that equips and supports women as ministers of the Word and preachers.  

Tanya’s has written and preached for America Magazine, US Catholic, and LTP. She holds Masters Degrees in Pastoral Ministry as well as in English. Tanya currently lives in the Pacific Northwest outside of Portland, Oregon with her family, and enjoys hiking, paddle-boarding, exploring coffee shops with her daughter, and working to help create a Church that fully embraces women’s spiritual gifts and callings.

 

There is enough . . .

 

All Are Hungry

Who am I to deem who is worthy or not? I welcome the finches, the chickadees, Cardinals and grosbeaks to the feeder I shoo away the bluejays who are feisty and aggressive The grackles who are black and ugly The crows who are too big and too raucous There may not be enough even though all are hungry Who are we to deem who is worthy or not Of refuge, housing, healthcare, Respect, dignity and even life itself? We welcome the white-skinned ones The ones who declare themselves Christian The pretty, the wealthy and powerful We shoo away the colored-skinned ones, The ones who worship God by a different name, The dirty, the immigrants and helpless There is enough, and all are hungry  Sallie Bachar (Used with Permission)