Panis Angelicus (for Madelyn Francis, who bakes it)

We are grateful that the divine influence is promised in our hardest times (“peace I leave with you”).  We acknowledge that the divine makes extreme joy possible and sustainable (“in thy presence is  fulness of joy”). 

Between these two is a spectrum (sometimes specter) of chronic chronic-ness.   So much is said—and rightly so—of divine involvement in extreme states that the everyday experience may lead us to ask if we are watched over and loved even if we are not in abjection or ecstasy.  In other words, just what are the ninety nine sheep doing, grazing days away?

The resolution of the everyday experience perhaps lies partly in the invitation to ask—no, demand (?)—Give us this day our daily bread.   The injunction in the middle of time looks back to a miracle of earlier sacred history:  Manna,  a magic bread that was so consistent that the miracle became an irritation.

 The fact that amazing phenomena are repeated so regularly and abundantly—from sun rises to human births—is more cause for awe, not less.  And as our Father gives us this day our daily bread, his hand is on every loaf—and every life.

Vocatus atque non vocatus Deus aderit.