### Lectio Divina: “meaning”
Day 26 of the Season of Creation • Saturday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time
“Faith allows us to interpret the meaning and the mysterious beauty of what is unfolding.” — Laudato Si’
### 1\. Lectio — The Word
[Luke 9:43–45](https://bible.usccb.org/bible/luke/9?43)
> “But they did not understand this saying; its meaning was hidden from them.”
How extraordinary that the disciples could stand in the presence of the Word made flesh and still struggle to understand the meaning of his words! Jesus speaks of his approaching Passion, yet they cannot comprehend what is unfolding before them. Worse still, they are afraid to ask.
I wonder whether I, too, am sometimes afraid to ask God about the meaning of things, not because I fear he will remain silent, but because I fear what his answer might require of me.
Perhaps faith is not the discovery of an explanation for everything. Perhaps it is the courage to follow Christ when the meaning of the journey remains hidden.
### 2\. Meditatio — The Solitary Sunflower
Finding meaning in the Season of Creation
Today I am away from The Glenn, but my meditation this morning returns to a solitary sunflower growing in the Bee Paddock back home.
Kim and I are in Graham to celebrate our grandson Dawson’s birthday. Graham is also where our daughter-in-law Kristin grew up and where our son Daniel lived the final years of his struggle with pancreatic cancer.
Sunflowers were Daniel’s favorite flowers. Kristin and their three children often gather them and place them on his grave, where we will make a pilgrimage later today.
And so, this morning, I find myself contemplating the meaning of that solitary sunflower at The Glenn.
Why that particular flower? Why there? Why does something as ordinary as a sunflower bring together so many extraordinary memories of love, suffering, death and life?
Perhaps I am like the disciples in today’s Gospel. I see what is before me, but its meaning remains hidden.
I have been considering digging up some Jerusalem artichoke tubers, commonly called sunchokes, from St. Mary’s Cathedral and planting them in the Bee Paddock in Daniel’s memory. Perhaps the solitary sunflower is the encouragement I need to act on that thought.
There is something wonderfully appropriate about planting a perennial sunflower in memory of someone whose life continues to bear fruit in the lives of those who loved him. The flowers will bloom and fade, but beneath the earth, the tubers will remain, waiting for another season.
Of course, I must be careful not to turn every occurrence in creation into a private message from God. A sunflower is a sunflower. Yet Saint Francis would remind me that it is also a creature through which I can discover something of the Creator’s generosity.
Laudato Si’ teaches me to recognize the countless relationships and forms of participation within creation. Faith allows me to contemplate their mysterious beauty without pretending to understand everything that unfolds.
This Season of Creation, with its emphasis on living water, reminds me that the sunflower cannot flourish without the water that sustains it. Neither can I flourish without the living water Christ offers.
I cannot water Daniel’s grave and expect him to return. I cannot plant enough sunflowers to reverse the suffering our family experienced. But I can cultivate the love that remains, allowing it to nourish future generations.
Today we celebrate Dawson’s birthday and visit Daniel’s grave. Joy and sorrow are not separated by very many miles.
Perhaps the meaning of the solitary sunflower is not that God is explaining death to me, but that he continues inviting me to participate in life.
And perhaps the most meaningful thing I can do today is simply to plant something.
### 3\. Oratio — My Prayer
Heavenly Father,
Today I come before you with the disciples, struggling to understand the meaning of things I have witnessed and experienced.
I thank you for Daniel’s life, for Kristin and their children, for Dawson’s birthday and for the love that continues to unite our family.
I thank you for the solitary sunflower growing in the Bee Paddock and for the memories it awakens within me.
When I am tempted to demand an explanation for suffering, give me the grace to remain faithful even when its meaning is hidden.
Lord Jesus, you entered fully into human suffering and transformed the Cross into the promise of eternal life. Help me to trust in your Resurrection without diminishing the reality of my grief.
Pour your living water upon the dry places of my heart. May the tears I have shed become a source of compassion for others who are grieving.
During this Season of Creation, teach me to cultivate The Glenn as a place where life is welcomed, creation is respected and future generations can discover the beauty of your love.
Bless the sunflower I hope to plant in Daniel’s memory. May it become a living reminder of the love that death cannot destroy.
Our Lady of Sorrows, who stood beside the Cross without fully understanding the mystery unfolding before you, accompany me on today’s pilgrimage.
Amen.
### 4\. Contemplatio — The Meaning of Our Limitations
Inspired by Magnifica humanitas, paragraph 118
As I contemplate the solitary sunflower, Daniel’s grave and Dawson’s birthday, I find myself confronting a fundamental question: What gives human life its meaning?
The technological world in which I live increasingly encourages me to regard every limitation as a problem awaiting a solution. Illness must be conquered, aging postponed, suffering eliminated and perhaps even death itself overcome.
Artificial intelligence and other emerging technologies offer remarkable possibilities for alleviating human suffering. I am grateful for the medical knowledge and technology that helped care for Daniel during his illness.
Yet I must distinguish between using technology to care for the human person and imagining that human existence is simply a collection of problems to be solved.
Daniel’s life did not become less meaningful when pancreatic cancer limited what he could do. His dignity did not diminish as his strength declined. His relationship with Kristin, their children, Kim and me was not measured by his productivity, independence or physical abilities.
Indeed, some of the most meaningful moments of our lives together occurred precisely when we confronted limitations that none of us could overcome.
This is where the reflections of Magnifica humanitas challenge my understanding of progress.
If I measure the meaning of human life exclusively by health, intelligence, efficiency or longevity, I risk overlooking the very relationships that make life worth living.
The same temptation appears in my stewardship of The Glenn. I can become so preoccupied with productivity, survival rates and technological solutions that I overlook the mysterious beauty of the life unfolding around me.
A solitary sunflower does not need to be the tallest, healthiest or most productive plant in the Bee Paddock to have meaning for me.
Its significance arises from relationship.
It reminds me of Daniel, of Kristin and their children, of the generations that preceded us and of those who will come after us.
During this Season of Creation, I am reminded that even living water cannot eliminate every limitation. It nourishes life, but it does not prevent every flower from fading.
Christian faith does not promise me freedom from every experience of suffering or loss. It invites me to understand my limitations within my relationship with God, who entered our finite human existence and shared even in our experience of death.
Perhaps this is the meaning I have been searching for.
I do not have to overcome every limitation to participate in the fullness of life. Nor must I understand every mystery before I can respond to it with love.
Today, as I stand beside Daniel’s grave and celebrate Dawson’s birthday, I can acknowledge both the grandeur and the fragility of human existence.
I can give thanks for a life that has ended, rejoice in a life that continues to unfold and trust that both remain within the loving providence of God.
And when I return to The Glenn, perhaps I will plant those sunchokes.
Not because I have finally discovered the meaning of everything, but because I have discovered something meaningful that I can do.
The meaning of life is not exhausted by what I can accomplish, explain or preserve. Sometimes it is revealed most profoundly in whom I love.
### 5\. Actio — Planting meaning
When I return to The Glenn, I will explore transplanting some sunchoke tubers from St. Mary’s Cathedral into the Bee Paddock as a living memorial to Daniel. I will choose a suitable location where their spreading growth can be managed and where they can provide flowers for pollinators.
I will consider how the living water I provide for this memorial garden can be conserved through thoughtful irrigation and soil care.
More importantly, I will invite Kristin and the children to participate in the planting if they wish, allowing the memorial to become something that grows through the generations.
And today, I will resist the temptation to explain away our family’s grief. I will celebrate Dawson’s birthday, visit Daniel’s grave and allow both experiences to have their place in my heart.
### 6\. Song pairing
Turn! Turn! Turn! — The Byrds
Inspired by Ecclesiastes 3, this song reflects the seasons of birth, death, planting and harvesting. It accompanies today’s celebration of Dawson’s birthday and pilgrimage to Daniel’s grave.
### 7\. Movie pairing
A Monster Calls (2016)
A young boy struggles with his mother’s terminal illness and encounters a mysterious tree that tells him stories. The film explores grief, the complexity of human emotions and the search for meaning when suffering resists simple explanations.
### 8\. Poetic X-verse — Meaning
One sunflower stands beneath the sky, While generations bloom and die. At Daniel’s grave, where memories cling, I hear the hope of coming spring. Though hidden meanings still remain, Love takes its root through joy and pain. And living waters, freely given, Turn earthly longing toward heaven.
Day 26 of the Season of Creation on Saturday of the Twenty-Fifth Week in Ordinary Time
