Psalm 62: “In you alone is my soul at rest. My help comes from you.”

Another mass killing, this time in a theater; in our gun-crazy country we don’t need to pinpoint the place. There’s probably been such a horror in your neighborhood. The homilist at Mass describes it as “perverse grandiosity”. He says we can--we must--still value “the imperfect beauty of this impossible thing called life” and deliver what bits of healing we can. If we take our eyes and thoughts off the horror, we find much in ordinary daily life that is kind, thoughtful, generous, even tender.

A few minute examples just recently in my own life and observation; within the space of two hours I experienced much of this. At the restaurant where I had gone for dinner, the friendly bartender omits the glass of wine from the check. I begin to point it out and he shushes me. “I know what you're going to say. Just shut up and enjoy it.” I thank him. As I board public transportation, a man immediately opposite the door I enter gets up and gives me his seat (I did sport a cane; and such consideration on big city public transportation is almost invariable).

As I prepare for the always chancy exit from the crowded bus, a man standing next to my seat moves away and offers me a couple of encouraging smiles and I exit fairly easily. As I exit another bus to which I had transferred, the conductor apologizes with a smile for letting me off a foot or two from the curb. An elderly woman struggles to bring her purchases to the cashier who greets her: “Good afternoon, young lady.” A young man escorting his woman friend takes the time to offer his arm to an old man about to clear the curb and walk across the street.

Healing, of course, thank goodness, is all around us on a much larger scale: in the ministrations of medical people; the tender care given some elderly parents; the time and attention given to little children by family members; the sympathetic ear offered by friends, counselors, teachers, the volunteers at the soup kitchen or in Uzbekistan. All is not “perverse grandiosity”. Nor is it ever really trivial. Such gestures are simply homely and good but not negligible. Sensitive healing and availability to others recognize that what we do for the least of our fellow travelers on this planet is done to Christ (Matthew 25).

Psalm 27: “I believe I shall see the Lord’s goodness / in the land of the living.

Wait for the Lord; be strong; / be stouthearted, and wait for the Lord!”

Reply to Fr. Don at: DTalafous@csbsju.edu

Watch Daily Mass online at: SaintJohnsAbbey.org/live

Send your prayer requests to the monks