More Mercy

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abbot, Benedict, gracious, Joan Chittister, judgment, kindness, Lent, merciful, mercy, monastic life, perfection, Pope Francis, Psalm 95, spirituality, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Wisdom Distilled from the Daily, Year of Mercy

I’ve thought and talked a lot about mercy, especially since I came to understand that it has more to do with love than with pity. At the conclusion of the “Year of Mercy” declared by Pope Francis, it was suggested that we continue to keep that virtue front and center in our lives. Not a bad idea, it seems, in our broken, frustrating world as we attempt to maintain equilibrium and good faith each day.

Lent is a perfect time for practicing mercy and contemplating the breadth of what it can mean – not just as an aspect of God but in our human interactions as well. Psalm 95 acknowledges God’s mercy to us this morning with the refrain: The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and of great kindness. The Lord is good to all and compassionate toward all his works.

From the human side, Joan Chittister has a great paragraph about mercy in monastic life in her book Wisdom Distilled From the Daily. In speaking about the qualities of the abbot she writes the following which I find to be comforting as well as challenging.

The abbot must be more intent on mercy than on judgment. But if that is the case, then clearly Benedict knew the world was made up of the very imperfect, the very human where a great deal of mercy would be necessary as we each wound our stumbling, human way to God. We, on the other hand, find it so hard not to expect perfection of ourselves and, because of that, to expect it of others as well. We drive ourselves and drive everyone around us beyond any achievable standard and then wonder why we fail and fail and fail. Benedictine spirituality says that life is a set of weaknesses in search of wholeness and we must be patient with one another’s growth. (p. 115)

Be Not Indifferent, but Different

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Christian, communion, compassion, Fr. Michael Crosby, Good Samaritan, justice, kindness, Luke, merciful, mercy, Peace, Pope Francis, Sisters of St. Joseph, spirituality, Year of Mercy

Yesterday I spent the day with the majority of the Sisters of St. Joseph in the Albany Province listening to and interacting with Fr. Michael Crosby, a Capuchin Franciscan friar, who has become over the past several decades a strong voice for justice and spirituality not only in our Church but for the world. As we move toward the conclusion of the “Year of Mercy” we could not have a better companion and beacon of light to help us understand the nuances in the Scriptures and in our lives for the practice of mercy. Steeped in the gospels, Father Mike used especially the example of the Good Samaritan and broke it open in ways that were new and challenging. In addition, he presented us with the text of last week’s general audience of Pope Francis (10/12/16) which focused hearers on the corporal and spiritual works of mercy. For those of us who are sometimes overwhelmed by conditions in the world that seem beyond our power to change, the following words of Pope Francis gave a challenge but also the possibility of a way forward.

[Jesus] taught his disciples: “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”  (Luke 6:36) It is a commitment that challenges the conscience and action of every Christian. In fact, it is not enough to experience God’s mercy in one’s life; it is necessary that whoever receives it becomes also a sign and instrument of it for others. Moreover, mercy is not reserved only for particular moments, but it embraces the whole of our daily existence.

How then can we be witnesses of mercy? We do not think that it has to do with making great efforts or superhuman gestures. No, it is not like this. The Lord indicates to us a much simpler way, made up of little gestures, which, however, in His eyes, have great value… (emphasis mine)

The point is, is seems, to become ever more conscious of others and their needs, never allowing indifference to be our mode of operating but practicing kindness that will fund the well of compassion building in the world. In this hope, in this communion, is our peace.

 

 

A Better Question

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Good Samaritan, Joan Chittister, Martin Luther King Jr., mercy, Pope Francis, The Audacity of Mercy, The Monastic Way, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Year of Mercy

I just came across an old issue of The Monastic Way, a monthly thought-for-the-day offering by Joan Chittister whose theme was “The Audacity of Mercy.” Since we are still (hopefully) observing the Year of Mercy proclaimed by Pope Francis last December, I thought it would be a good read on a foggy morning. All the selections were thought-provoking but one toward the end of the month caught my eye as familiar and worthy of more reflection. I offer it here in the hopes that at least some will not see it as just a clever juxtaposition of phrase but rather an invitation to deeper contemplation.

Mercy takes us out of ourselves. It makes us one with the rest of the world. Or as Martin Luther King, Jr. reminds us, “The first question which the priest and the Levite asked was, “If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?” But the Good Samaritan reversed the question. He said: “If I don’t stop to help this man, what will happen to him?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Have Mercy On Me, O God!

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acceptance, acknowledgment, contrition, David and Bathsheba, evil, forgiveness, grace, guilt, just, personal sin, Pope Francis, psalm 51, recognition, relationship with God, repentance, Samuel, sinfulness, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Year of Mercy

Yesterday I was having a conversation about sin – not sins but sin, as in “the sin of the world” or “social sin.” It’s much easier to look at it that way, not so difficult then to exclude myself from the topic rather than talking about my personal sin and guilt. Today, however, I could not avoid such a “close encounter” in the face of the story about David and Bathsheba. (2 SM 11:1-17) David’s actions of adultery and the subsequent plotting the death of Uriah when his attempts to hide Bathsheba’s pregnancy from her husband had failed sound like a modern movie plot! This from God’s chosen one, the king of Israel, the one whose reign was to last forever through his descendants!

Most of us know our own sinfulness and try to hide our shadow side from others for fear that we would be abandoned if anyone “really knew me.” David’s story gives us opportunity for a different way to proceed. It comes in a series of steps: recognition, acknowledgment, contrition, repentance, forgiveness and finally acceptance – all of which come in his relationship with God. His waking up to the seriousness of his sin came at the death of the child born of his liaison with Bathsheba but that recognition was so deeply felt not only by the loss but also because of his great love for God and the knowledge that he had severely damaged that covenant. Thus, his sorrow matched his guilt as he sang, “I have done such evil in your sight that you are just in your sentence…Let me hear the sounds of joy and gladness; the bones you have crushed shall rejoice. Turn away your face from my sins and blot out all my guilt!” (PS 51) It is because of the depth of relationship that David could come to trust God’s forgiveness. Still cognizant of the enormity of what he had done, David was then able to accept himself and let go of his guilt to live into God’s welcoming embrace. I am confident that we are called to the same willingness in the face of our sin.

Serendipitously as I was pondering all this, my eye fell on a quote that seems apt for both this reflection and this “Year of Mercy.” Pope Francis writes that the Church is commissioned to announce the mercy of God, the beating heart of the gospel, which in its own way must penetrate the heart and mind of every person. Having received the grace and ability to acknowledge our own sins, may we be moved to extend such mercy to our companions and, yes, to our broken world.