3 August 1985
Pallanza, Italy

My dear Sisters,

Before I leave here at the end of my retreat, I am happy to celebrate Mass with you and join you in your principal apostolate at the present time, and indeed at any time during your lives as Daughters of Charity, and that is praying for and in the name of the poor. It is good to reflect often on that sentence in your Constitutions which states: "Praying for the poor and in their name remains the Sisters' primary obligation." (C. 2.9).

You live your lives here, my dear Sisters, surrounded by mountains. Mountains speak to us of God. Mountains are beautiful in their majesty as God is beautiful in His majesty. Mountains are unchanging as God is unchanging. Mountains are always there as God is always present. Mountains are strong: they stand up to storms over thousands of years and show no signs of breaking. So, too, is God: He is strong. The wickedness of man can do his worst, but God goes on existing. As you pray the Psalms, note the number of times the psalmist speaks of mountains. Mountains make the psalmist think of God: "You set the mountains in place by Your power." (Ps 65:7). "Let the mountains shout for joy at the presence of the Lord." (Ps 98:8).

The mountains then speak to us of the beauty of God and of His strength and constant care. It is not easy, when we are sick or feeling the weight of years pressing upon us, to think of beauty or to see beauty in ourselves. Yet as God looks at us, He sees each of us as a particular reflection of His beauty, and that reflection He sees in no one else. It is St. Paul who reminds us that each of us is "God's work of art." (Eph 2: 10). It is St. Paul, too, who reminds us that, even when age is attacking and breaking down our physical bodies, there is an unseen life within us that is growing and developing. "Though this outer man of ours may be falling into decay, the inner man is renewed day by day." (2 Cor 4:16).

The mountains speak to us of the strength of God, and St. Vincent on a number of occasions reminded priests or Sisters who were feeling weak and without strength to face difficulties, that "Our Lord has enough strength for Himself and for you." So He has. That is why the Sacraments of the Eucharist and Penance are so important for us. It is through the Sacraments principally that Jesus Christ communicates His strength to us. Psalm 121 begins: "I lift up my eyes to the mountains" and then the Psalmist puts the question: "Where shall come my strength?" (Ps 121:12). The Psalmist knows that the mountains themselves will not bring him strength. We, as friends of Jesus Christ, know Who the source of our strength is, as St. Paul assures us: "I can do all things in Him Who strengthens me." (Phil 4:13).

Lastly, the mountains speak to us of God's constancy and care. God does care for us. We may feel old, but He loves and cares for us as a mother loves her infant child, only infinitely more so. Perhaps the greatest shock we will receive after our deaths will be to discover the intensity of God's love for us when we were young, middle-aged and old.

I conclude with a reflection of St. Vincent in his old age:

All our life is but a moment which flies away--disappears quickly. Alas, the seventy-six years of my life which I have passed seem to me but a dream and a moment. Nothing remains of them but regret for having so badly employed this time. Let us think of the dissatisfaction we will have at our deaths if we do not use this time to be merciful.