Everything

A Reflection on the Psalm for February 9th, 2020:
​​Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Psalm 112:4-9

R. Light rises in the darkness for the upright.
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Light rises in the darkness for the upright: gracious, merciful and righteous. It is well with the person who deals generously and lends, who conducts their affairs with justice. 

R. Light rises in the darkness for the upright.

For the righteous person will never be moved; they will be remembered forever. Unafraid of evil tidings; their heart is firm, secure in the Lord. 

R. Light rises in the darkness for the upright.

That person’s heart is steady and will not be afraid. One who has distributed freely, who has given to the poor, their righteousness endures forever: their name is exalted in honour. 

R. Light rises in the darkness for the upright.

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Psalm 112 issues a great challenge to me. It sets out the character of the righteous woman: confident of light amid darkness; unshakeable, like a mountain; honoured, like a legacy handed down from one generation to the next; courageous in countenance, like flint (as Isaiah says), her forehead pressed strong against the forehead of her sisters (as Ezekiel says); and, lastly, generous.

Such women exist. I have known one. She was my grandmother. 

When she was in her early twenties, my grandmother set out on an adventure with her best friend, sailing on a luxury liner to New York. When the ship steamed away from the harbour, the evening weather was not unfavourable. By the early morning, however, a winter storm was upon them. The captain, unaware of how close the ship was to the coast, ran it aground at full speed. In total darkness, the vessel began to sink. Towering waves pounded the decks, and seawater rushed into the hull. The ship lay there a day and a night while witnesses watched from sea and shore, helpless to launch a boat while the storm raged on. 

My grandmother was a great believer. As she and the others waited to be rescued, cold and hungry but not despairing she led them through the rosary. She was the first to be taken from the wreck, one of only two women survivors. Later, during an inquiry into the disaster, she recounted how a wave had swept her best friend overboard as together they ran across the deck toward shelter. 

Of course, the experience changed her forever. When I met her, she was a woman of strength and mercy and, as Isaiah says of Our Lord, “acquainted with grief.” 

One does not develop the character of Psalm 112 without hardship, which builds the muscle of courage and draws up the water of mercy as if from a well. 

I often think of my grandmother when I’m struggling. She used to say, “This is a hard, hard world”--but still she had hope. She enjoyed funny stories. She laughed a lot with her cousin Stella. She married a wonderful man, and together they raised six children. She remembered her blessings and gave generously to those in need.

How she dealt with tragedy teaches me this important lesson: this world, and what happens to me in this world, is not “everything” in my life. Instead, they are opportunities to prepare, to take what happens to me and use it to build courage and mercy so that, when the time comes, I will be ready to enter the place that is “everything.” 
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“Always be prepared to answer everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have” (1 Peter 3:15). That is my grandmother’s legacy: hope in spite of hardship, and the promise of an eternal life abundant with “everything.”



​
​Donna Davis

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Photo by Anastasia Taioglou on Unsplash

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