Divine Mercy Sunday

On April 15, 2012, Divine Mercy Sunday, I prayed at 3:00 at St. Martin’s Church, feeling a sense of empowerment and efficacy. I plan to do the same tomorrow. I share the history behind the tradition, both in personal and ecclesiastic terms, in case anyone might find comfort or interest in it.

When my dad died in 2012, I’d been back in Maryland for three days after staying with him, and the rest of my family in Florida, for spring break. To backtrack a little, in August of 2010 my dad was hospitalized. He was in the ICU with a breathing tube. I was fortunate to have time off from work and went to Florida to stay with him. I visited with him; tried to straddle between comforting and playing along once he came to and was hallucinating; advocated for him, and was there to check when mistakes were almost made with medications. He was nearly a goner and I felt that the following year and a half was borrowed time. Many of us likened him to Lazarus.

I took one break when my dad was in the ICU. I left the hospital for an hour or so. The only place that seemed to make sense for me to go was to Church, where I bought a rosary that I then said at his bedside. I won’t defend being Catholic, being mostly not Catholic, being a cafeteria Catholic, being a recovering Catholic, all the criticisms I have against the Catholic Church, or blessings I’ve found within the Church. Faith can wax and wane and can be more personal than religious, even within the context of a particular denomination. My perception and relationship with my dad is to a large extent inseparable from Catholicism, as is my spirituality.

When my dad died on April 12, 2012, I went to work. That was automatic enough, but then I couldn't think about work. So I went to Church and went to confession. My confession stories are some of my favorites and funniest. (I’m glad that it is not the confessor’s duty to protect the Sacramental Seal.) When I told the priest that my dad died he said that it was wonderful news; a great sign that my dad died in the Easter season and just before Divine Mercy Sunday. This felt absurd at the time, but gave me much to consider that later provided comfort and guided my eulogy around Divine Mercy Sunday.

St. Maria Faustina Kowalska, a Polish nun who lived 1905-1938, received visions from Jesus that she recorded in her journal. Included in Jesus’s messages to St. Faustina was, in a nutshell, that any sincere ask for mercy within the 3 o’clock hour of Divine Mercy Sunday would be granted. She was canonized by Pope Saint John Paul II and Divine Mercy Sunday was declared to be an annual holiday on the second Sunday of Easter in 2000.

These past two years, I’ve experienced a good number of losses. I’m sure all of us have since the start of the pandemic. I am gratefully and gloriously fortunate that some recent close calls have not led to tragedy in people I’m still holding dear. But I am acutely aware of how thin the veil is between the worlds at times. Most years, I either haven't remembered Divine Mercy Sunday or was hung up with other things. Today I proofread a poetry collection of a dear friend whose son died about 6 months ago. Tomorrow being Divine Mercy Sunday will enable me to feel that I’m doing something to honor him.

I will pray for my ancestors and grandparents

My dad

Kevin Bagley, my forever-will-make-me-smile first best highschool friend

Venus Thrash

Linda Durbin, who it seems the priest de facto canonized at her memorial Mass in February ‘24

Reuben Jackson, who died just after Linda and who must’ve certainly made the Saint cut as well

Jack Lord

Pope Francis

Kris Kristofferson

Shane MacGowan

Sinead O’Connor

And most especially, our dear Baeley Aubrey Thackston who died last October, tragically and far too soon, at the age of 22.