NeuroDivine

Psalm 112 | Isaiah 19:1-24 | Matthew 10:16-33 | RB Chapter 47

The psalmist declares: “Their heart is steady, they will not be afraid.” (Psalm 112). This is not the steadiness of one untouched by trial, but of one who has learned to trust through weakness. Isaiah’s vision of Egypt trembling yet reconciled shows that even in disruption, God is at work, drawing estranged peoples into blessing. And Christ’s words in Matthew remind us that discipleship is lived in vulnerability: “I am sending you out like sheep among wolves… do not be afraid.”

These threads gather into a single truth: courage is not the absence of fragility, but the grace to remain faithful within it. On Wednesday, when my body is bound to the rhythm of dialysis, this truth becomes tangible. The hours are marked not by bells but by machines, yet they still call to prayer. The hum of care becomes its own signal, reminding that life itself is ordered by grace.

The Rule of St Benedict insists that the signal for prayer must be given carefully, so that the Work of God is done at the proper time. Fidelity to the hour is fidelity to God. In the same way, the rhythm of treatment becomes a summons to patience and endurance, a reminder that even in limitation, one can be faithful.

The Community’s Rule calls for renewal near the feast of St Malachy, urging reflection on promises and belonging. Renewal is not dramatic; it is quiet, a recommitment to humility, obedience, and stability. For those whose days are interrupted by illness, renewal may mean accepting the fragility of time yet choosing to remain present, generous, and steadfast. It is a retreat not of escape but of deeper belonging.

So Wednesday becomes a day of signal and response:

• The Psalm signals trust that steadies the heart.
• The Prophet signals reconciliation beyond fear.
• The Gospel signals courage in witness.
• The Rule signals fidelity to prayer at the appointed hour.
• The Community’s Rule signals renewal in promise.
• And the dialysis machine, humming steadily, signals dependence and the invitation to rest in God.

In this rhythm, weakness is not wasted. It becomes prayer. Renewal is not postponed. It is lived here and now, in the steady heart that trusts, in the fragile body that endures, and in the community that continues to sing at the appointed hour.