The Mystery and Mercy of Love


In stillness nailed. To hold all time, all change, all circumstance in and to Love’s embrace Anonymous Anglican Nun

Good Friday is the day I learn again that my truest self is connected to all selves in, with and through love. I stand shoulder-to-shoulder with all the worst brokenness of this moment and heart to heart with all the best of humanity – wholeness. It all depends on which spirit I feed … which spirit I choose to live into…. And so it is that I am with him, through, in and with the other always. Today I am invited to re-mem-ber this truth. To hold love’s post to verily ‘be with Yeshua’. I am humbled by the mystery and mercy of love in me, through me and with me.

Imagine a circle traced on the ground, and in its center a tree sprouting with a shoot grafted into its side. The tree finds its nourishment in the soil within the expanse of the circle, but uprooted from the soil it would be fruitless. So think of the soul as a tree made for love and living only by love. The circle in which this tree’s root, the soul’s love, must grow is true knowledge of herself, knowledge that is joined to me, who like the circle have neither beginning nor end. You can go round and round within this circle, finding neither end nor beginning, yet never leaving the circle. So the tree of charity is nurtured in humility and branches out in true discernment. To me this tree yields the fragrance of glory and praise to my name, and so it does what I created it for and comes at last to its goal, to me, everlasting life. —St. Catherine of Siena

In the silence of my heart I give thanks for the gift of this day and pray for the life of the world…

You of the ages to whom the hours are nothing and everything: grant that I may know every moment as a sacred guest to be welcomed, to be savored, to be sent with a blessing. Show me the way of love. Teach me to remember the other. And reassure me that it is when I give myself away in love that I truly find myself. Show me the way of love, my source, my returning, my real home. Bless the path I journey on – lead me ever onward.

Place me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal on your arm. Strong as Death is love; intense as Sheol is its ardor. Its shafts are shafts of fire, flames of Yaweh. Deep waters cannot quench love, nor rivers sweep it away.                                                           Song of Solomon 8:6-7







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