Divine Appeal Reflection - 7
Today, consider in Divine Appeal 7: "My daughter... "
The first word that flows from the lips of Our Adorable Jesus—“My daughter”—is not an accident of tenderness, but an eternal decree. It is the Father’s own seal placed upon a soul, echoing the truth spoken through the prophet: “I have called you by name, you are mine” (cf. Is 43:1). This word embraces both woman and man, for within it resounds equally “My son,” a summons beyond gender into filial identity. God does not speak to shadows, to roles, or to categories—He speaks to persons, fragile yet unrepeatable, each one engraved upon His hands (cf. Is 49:16). The mystery is this: before virtue or sin, before accomplishment or failure, we are already possessed by Him. When Jesus said to Jairus’s child, “My daughter, arise” (cf. Mk 5:41), He restored not only her life but her belonging within God’s household. Hearing it would suffuse one with joys never experienced and deliver one from the loneliness that pervades such a secular and materialistic culture as we have today.
The Catechism reminds us that divine sonship is received, not self-created (cf. CCC 239). This stands in sharp contrast to the spirit of the age, which demands self-definition through success, status, or self-expression. Yet Our Adorable Jesus speaks the same liberating word: “You are Mine—your worth is not in what you do, but in who you are in Me.” Before Jeremiah ever uttered a prophecy, God declared, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you” (cf. Jer 1:5). Before Israel conquered or failed, the Lord told them, “You are My treasured possession” (cf. Ex 19:5). At the Jordan, before Christ worked a single miracle, the Father affirmed Him: “You are My beloved Son” (cf. Lk 3:22). This truth becomes flesh in every vocation: at the altar, the priest’s dignity does not rest in eloquence but in being configured to Christ (cf. CCC 1548); in the classroom, the student’s value is not undone by failure but secured in baptismal adoption (cf. CCC 1265); in the field, the farmer shares in the dignity of Adam entrusted with creation (cf. Gen 2:15); in the factory, the unseen worker reflects Joseph’s hidden labor at Nazareth (cf. Mt 13:55). To rest in “my daughter, my son” is to discover that identity is eternal gift, not fragile invention.
The address “My daughter” bears within it both intimacy and mandate. God never names without sending, for His word is creative, never idle. When the Risen Christ spoke Mary Magdalene’s name in the tomb, she was not only comforted but commissioned as the apostle to the apostles, heralding the Resurrection itself (cf. Jn 20:16–18). To be named by God is always to be entrusted with mission. Abraham was called by a personal word to leave his land and become father of nations (cf. Gen 12:1–2). Simon was renamed Peter and charged with feeding Christ’s flock (cf. Jn 21:15–17). The Church teaches that in baptism we are both adopted into divine sonship and incorporated into Christ’s mission (cf. CCC 1267–1270). Thus, the voice that calls “My daughter, My son” is never sentimental flattery but a charter of responsibility, a participation in the divine work of redemption. For the student, it means integrity amid pressure; for the physician, mercy over profit; for the politician, fidelity to truth over self-gain; for the worker, diligence offered as praise. If ignored, this call decays into self-definition and self-promotion. But if received, “My daughter” becomes a daily reminder: the Lord entrusts His Kingdom’s labor to me, transfiguring even the smallest duty into eternal fruit.
This address also becomes balm for the deepest wounds of belonging. In a world scarred by rejection, betrayal, and fractured families, many wander as exiles in their own homes, carrying invisible burdens of abandonment. Yet when Jesus bends low to say “My daughter, My son,” He does what no earthly bond could perfectly secure—He restores us to communion. The bleeding woman, cut off for twelve years from both touch and temple, heard Him say: “Daughter, your faith has made you well” (cf. Lk 8:48). That word healed not only her body but that very identity--she was reintegrated into covenant fellowship. Zacchaeus, despised as a cheat and rejected as unworthy, was redeemed when Jesus declared him a true son of Abraham (cf. Lk 19:9). The Catechism teaches that divine adoption not only confers dignity but heals the distortions of wounded humanity, raising us to freedom in Christ (cf. CCC 1700–1709). Thus, the appeal of Jesus is the antidote to modern orphanhood, whether spiritual or relational. To the unseen employee, He says, “I see you, My son.” To the grieving widow, “I hold you, My daughter.” To the restless youth, “Your name is already safe in Me.” This word does not merely soothe—it reorders broken loves into the eternal household of God.
“My daughter” is not a word to be hoarded but a gift to be echoed. Those who have truly heard it must let it reverberate outward, becoming instruments of the same divine tenderness. Parents, in every act of correction and guidance, must remember that their authority is not domination but the echo of the Father’s affirmation. Priests and religious, configured to Christ, must let their pastoral care resound with this word, so that the faithful encounter not an institution of cold procedure but the embrace of spiritual fatherhood and motherhood. Employers who know themselves addressed by God must resist reducing workers to mere functions, instead affirming them as bearers of dignity. The Church teaches that Christian identity is never solitary but always ecclesial: to be son or daughter is to belong within the communion of saints (cf. CCC 946–953). Thus, holiness always overflows into fraternity. The student who resists dishonesty dignifies her peers; the judge who rules justly honors the poor as God’s children; the artist who creates beauty affirms that every soul has a place in God’s great masterpiece. The final aim of this divine appeal is not inward sentiment but outward communion—learning to name others with the same dignity with which Christ names us.
Ultimately, the tender address “My daughter, My son” reaches its fullest consummation in the Eucharist, where the Word who names us also nourishes us. At the altar, Our Adorable Jesus gives not merely assurance but substance—His very Body and Blood. The same voice that summoned Jairus’s child, “Arise” (cf. Mk 5:41), now calls every soul to the banquet of life: “Take and eat; this is My Body for you” (cf. Mt 26:26). In Holy Communion, divine adoption is no longer only declared but sealed; identity is not sentiment but sacrament, pressed into the very marrow of our being. The Catechism teaches that the Eucharist strengthens divine filiation and gathers us into one Body (cf. CCC 1391–1396), so that what we receive transforms who we are. At the altar, the priest stands first as a son before he presides; the mother carrying her infant comes first as a daughter before she nurtures; the worker bent with fatigue kneels first as a beloved child before he is a laborer. In this mystery, human worth is anchored not in fragile achievement but in the eternal Son who hands Himself over. To receive Him is to hear again the voice that cuts through every false label: “You are Mine, My daughter, My son—remain in Me, as I remain in you” (cf. Jn 15:4).
Prayer
Adorable Jesus, call us again by that name which no world can erase: “My daughter, My son.” Seal our souls with Your gaze, rescue us from anonymity, and send us into mission. May we see every neighbor with Your eyes, until each life is revealed as personally loved, eternally chosen.
Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.
