Divine Appeal Reflection - 260
Today, consider in Divine Appeal 260: "My blood flows through my tears – I want to cover the corrupt world."
O soul, gaze upon the unspeakable mystery of our Adorable Jesus whose sorrow is not weakness but a torrent of redeeming love. His tears do not merely fall—they bleed, each drop whispering the longing of a God who loves unto agony. The mystics tell us this sorrow is the deepest language of the Heart: love crucified yet living, silent yet more eloquent than all human words. St. Catherine of Siena saw such divine sorrow as “a sea whose waves reach everywhere,” poured out to cleanse creation’s defilement. And the Catechism teaches that the sacrifice of Christ remains ever alive, offered before the Father for our sake (cf. CCC 1367). When He weeps over the world’s corruption, He offers not destruction but a bridal veil of mercy, pleading that hearts may turn before justice must descend. His weeping is both lament and intercession, a living shield born of love stronger than death.
The corruption that draws forth such divine tears is not only the open violence and injustice that stain our age but, more grievously, the silent decay within hearts consecrated by grace. St. Margaret Mary spoke of souls who wound Him most: the indifferent, the lukewarm, those who “taste His gifts yet refuse His Heart.” Scripture alludes to the blood that still speaks—calling not for vengeance, but reconciliation (cf. Heb 12:24). In this divine weeping, we see that His grief is not a distant divine displeasure but an intimate sorrow: the Bridegroom mourns His bride’s coldness. His tears reveal the depths of His yearning to cover our nakedness of sin, just as Adam and Eve were clothed by God’s mercy after the fall. Thus, divine sorrow becomes a garment of hope, an appeal to every soul to awaken and return.
The mystics, practical in their counsel, show us this sorrow is not only to be admired but shared. St. Faustina wrote of becoming “a living host,” uniting her small sufferings and prayers to Christ’s burning mercy. St. Teresa of Avila urged souls to offer every trial, even the smallest, as hidden reparation. The Catechism teaches that united to Christ, human suffering becomes participation in redemption (cf. CCC 618). To console Our Adorable Jesus is not to chase the brilliance of visions, but to weave the unseen hours of our days into a living sacrifice of love: each silent tear offered as incense, each hidden act of mercy a fragrant balm upon His pierced Heart. It is the quiet majesty of choosing grace over bitterness, surrender over fear, and prayer in the hush of weariness. In this secret liturgy of the soul, our humble “yes” rises beyond words, touching eternity and bringing solace to the very Heart that first loved us into being. Each hidden sacrifice helps spread His precious blood over the world’s corruption.
Thus, our tears, mingled with His, do not fall in vain but become seeds of grace that water hardened hearts. The saints remind us: when sorrow is offered in love, it draws heaven into earth’s wounds. The corruption of the age becomes not only a tragedy, but a summons—to love more deeply, pray more fervently, and hope more boldly. Like Mary at the foot of the Cross, we are called to stand steadfast, letting divine sorrow pierce us so our love may console His. For in God’s mysterious design, even the smallest act of reparation helps cover the world in the living cloak of His mercy (cf. Col 1:24).
Prayer
O Adorable Jesus, whose sorrow bleeds into mercy, receive our poor hearts pierced by Your divine tears. Teach us, like Your saints, to offer hidden sacrifices, to love where hatred reigns, and to hope when darkness deepens. May our lives help clothe this corrupt world with Your redeeming love. Amen.
Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.
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