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broken heart, disdain, his mercy endures forever, Joan Chittister, justice, legalism, merciful, mercy, openness, pity, psalm 136, rejection, show mercy, The Monastic Way, The Sign of Jonas, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton, understanding
This morning as I read Psalm 136, I recalled that I used to find it tedious in its repetition (every other line!) of the refrain, God’s mercy endures forever. In speaking of God’s action for the Israelites, it can become a singsong recording of their history: God led them through the wilderness, for his mercy endures forever; and made their land a heritage, for his mercy endures forever…and freed us from our foes, for his mercy endures forever… It was easy in our communal prayer to lose consciousness of the meaning of what we were saying (sometimes not really praying). It was when I first heard the definition of mercy as “fierce bonding love” rather than God’s willingness to “take pity on us” that my sense of what was happening in that psalm began to take on the deeper meaning of a real and lasting relationship with a beloved people.
That reminder was enhanced by a serendipitous discovery of the January 2008 issue of The Monastic Way that I found stuck in a book next to my chair this morning. I hadn’t intended to talk about mercy this morning – desiring something that would match the intensity of feeling in our country in the wake of the hateful demonstrations of the week. When I saw Joan Chittister’s monthly reflection pamphlet, however, I knew it was the perfect theme. If we are to become a mirror of God’s work in the world, we cannot ignore the quality of mercy. Some of Sister Chittister’s daily thoughts were the following:
- We pray for mercy; we expect mercy. What we find difficult to do is to be merciful to those in need of it. Or as George Eliot says, “We hand folks over to God’s mercy, and show none ourselves.”
- The great spiritual question is not whether or not this person, this situation deserves mercy. It’s about whether or not we ourselves are capable of showing it.
- The major holy-making moment in our own lives may be when we receive the mercy we know we do not deserve. Then, we may never again substitute disdain for understanding, rejection for openness, legalism for justice. “I think perhaps it is a better world,” Helen Waddell writes, “if one has a broken heart. Then one is quick to recognize it, elsewhere.”
These “words” deserve some attention, I believe – perhaps even a little soul-searching. In summary, I offer the stated theme of this valuable reflection pamphlet printed on the cover page. It comes from Thomas Merton’s book, The Sign of Jonas, and offers what Joan Chittister calls a definition of God.
I have always overshadowed you with my mercy…Have you had sight of Me, My child? Mercy within mercy within mercy.
Chapter 5 of Matthew’s gospel is so full of teaching that it provides a lifetime of material for reflection. The Beatitudes alone are enough! In today’s lectionary selection, however, there is a very important section on how we ought to treat those persons closest to us. (Jesus calls them our brothers, but we know he meant our sisters too.) It’s about the fact that we must be in right relationship with our neighbors before we approach God in our worship services. The very familiar text (vs. 20-26) tells us that if there is something separating us from another person we need to leave our gift at the altar to go and be reconciled. It’s that important. The interesting thing about this passage for me, however, is a simple twist in the way the recognition of our duty is expressed by Jesus. He doesn’t say, “If you recall that you have anything against your brother, go first and reconcile…” Instead, Jesus makes the job of reconciliation ours even though it is “if your brother has anything against you…” 
I love the feast that we celebrate today: the Visitation of Mary to her kinswoman, Elizabeth. This was no “stopping ’round for tea” visit. Mary traveled “to the hill country” and stayed for three months. Elizabeth was a woman past child-bearing age – whatever that meant in those long-ago days. In her 30s, perhaps, and probably concerned since she had heretofore been unable to conceive. Mary was just a teenager, and likely frightened by the process of carrying a child. For both of them this “favor” wrought by God was what many would have called “hard grace.” On a human level, how lucky they were to have each other! We speculate that Elizabeth was further along in her pregnancy so it must have been a relief to have Mary around to help her. The Scriptures intimate that Mary had rushed off to Elizabeth soon after receiving the message from God that she was pregnant. Her comfort would likely have been an older woman, who obviously loved her, to lean on and share with as she interiorized what was happening to her body and her life. Such a great story!
During the season of Lent it is not unusual to see part or all of Psalm 51 show up as the response to the first reading in our lectionary. It is the season when repentance for our faults is traditionally front and center and God’s mercy is a constant call. Psalm 51 is uniquely suited to those themes and appears again today for our consideration.
There is a subtle theme of healing in what I have read this morning, first in an alternate reading of Psalm 146 and then in a quote from Alan Cohen. There is so much to be healed in the world right now that seems impossible to correct that I continue to be drawn to working on inner methods rather than external actions. The psalm and its commentary seem to me to segue into Cohen’s thought and give me an impetus for the flow of my day.
Transition ceremonies for the inauguration of a new president of the United States have already begun. The early morning news is reporting the use of pepper spray by police to quell what seemed to portend a violent protest. Today begins in trepidation and – for me – sadness that we are in such a position of fear of disruption and disrespect from within our own country as well as from foreign terrorists. I have not been enamored of every president who has been elected during my life but I learned early on to respect the office. “How have we come to this?” I ask myself. The only answer I am able to offer myself is: “It’s not that simple.”
This morning there was a shaft of light across my bed as I was throwing back the covers. I thought something – the wind or some animal – had tripped the light over the carport outside. When I looked out I saw a brilliant waning moon with the nearby morning star shining in response to its light. I don’t know when I first heard the line: The morning star shines clear in the sky, offering it the Word of Life, but it always comes to me automatically when I catch sight of that loveliness.
Psalm 67 may be considered, says one commentary, “an international hymn of praise because it calls all nations and peoples of the earth to enter into the worship of God…” In speaking of the Psalms as they appear in the Hebrew Scriptures, this commentary continues: “In many of the Psalms there is a ‘we’ versus ‘they’ mentality. This sentiment has been overcome in this Psalm, and thus speaks, perhaps, of an unusual development in the religious ideals of the Hebrew people. They have moved from a narrow conception of the divine to one that is shared by all peoples of the earth…Our task as contemporary creatures is not simply to pray for ourselves, or narrowly for those around us who are dear to us, but to give voice for the whole earth…Imagine yourself as creation’s voice, as an instrument through which those without a voice can enter with praise the presence of God…There is often a wide gap between the vision of beauty held out for the world and the experience of pain and ugliness we find in it. Those who pray hold these two regions together, and will not let them fall apart.”
At this mid-point in the season of Advent, we are reminded by Psalm 146 of the enormity God’s power to heal our ills and, if we are willing, our potential for participation in healing the world. I am not speaking here of the “miracles of modern medicine” – which are, of course, extraordinary. The psalm focuses on deeper issues in our lives and includes political and social ills that need healing as well. One translation expresses it as follows.
The Sophia Center for Spirituality 