As I sit before the Tabernacle this morning in prayer, I repeat the Jesus Prayer slowly to myself: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. As I do, questions I often ask myself circulate in the background of my mind: What is mercy? What does it mean to ask Jesus to be merciful to me in my times of difficulty and struggle? What does it mean for me as a Catholic to be merciful to my fellows who struggle with addiction, same-sex attraction, and sexual identity confusion?
The answer to this question is not as complex as many would have us believe. It is laid out structurally in Scripture. So the issue isn’t a lack of clear guidance, but whether we are willing to yield our understanding of mercy to Jesus and accept that true mercy sometimes stings.
To begin living a truly merciful life, I have to be honest with myself about what I mean when I ask God to have mercy on me. In general, outside of the Jesus Prayer, when I ask God for mercy, what I, and many others I know, am asking for is that He would take away my difficulties and suffering. While this is an understandable and reasonable request, it also indicates a lack—a lack of understanding of God’s ways and a lack of willingness to do the difficult work necessary to become the saints all followers of Christ are called to be.
When many in the Church discuss mercy, they bring up familiar scriptural passages. The woman at the well (Jn. 40:1-30) and the woman caught in adultery (Jn. 8:1-11) are two such examples. The only one mentioned even more frequently is the Parable of the Prodigal Son, in which the father welcomes home his wayward son with open arms. While I see the mercy most see at the end of this parable, many seem to miss two other instances of mercy earlier on in the story.
Hidden Mercies
The first instance of mercy comes right at the beginning of the parable when the son takes his part of his father’s inheritance and leaves his house to go and live a life of dissipation. His father doesn’t say to him, “Don’t leave, my beloved son. Stay at home, be a bum and a mooch, have sex with hookers, do whatever you want.” No. He lets him leave, knowing he may destroy himself. This is an act of mercy.
Once the son burns through his father’s money, he is hungry. “He longed to eat his fill of the pods on which the swine fed, but nobody gave him any.” Because nobody gave him any food, he came to his senses and returned humbly, ready to submit to his father’s authority. Letting him go hungry was an act of mercy, too.
This parable shows that mercy is not one-dimensional and often does not bring feelings of comfort or pleasure. Throughout His ministry, Jesus shows this to be true in ways many seem to overlook.
Willing the Good of the Other
With the woman at the well, Jesus reminds her of all her sinful relationships, and with the woman caught in adultery, she is told to sin no more, indicating to her that it is her own sin that condemns her, not Christ. These are frequently noted, but Jesus’ mercy towards the scribes, Sadducees, and Pharisees is often overlooked.
In Matthew 23:27-28, Jesus refers to them as “whitewashed tombs full of dead people’s bones and uncleanness.” In Matthew 12:34, He calls the Pharisees a “brood of vipers.” This, just like his comments to the women in the other parables, is Jesus’s mercy in action. A loving mercy that “wills the good of the other” (St. Thomas Aquinas) for their own sake over the comfort of both the one giving the mercy and the one receiving it.
True Mercy in Admonishment
When I was a teenager, my selfishness knew few boundaries. One year, as my mom’s birthday drew near, I decided to spend my saved allowance on myself. The day my dad took me out to get her a gift, I told him I had no money. He became very upset, turned off the car, and we didn’t go shopping. I knew he would cover for me. The morning of her birthday, he put her gift out without indicating who it was from. She thanked me for the gift, but before I could say you’re welcome, he let her know I hadn’t gotten her anything. I felt terrible and never did that again. I became a little less thoughtless and selfish—just a little.
In another instance, my older brother was kicked out of our home because of both using and selling drugs. This was done after years of trying to help him. When he left, my parents told him, “If you get in trouble now, you’re on your own.” He, in short order, got in trouble and was arrested for selling drugs. Our parents made the painful decision to leave him in jail until his trial, where he was sentenced to more jail time.
While there, he learned a trade and got sober. He never sold drugs or tangled with the law again. While our parents did not handle either of these situations perfectly, they recognized that loving mercy is sometimes gentle and sometimes jarring—a lesson that society and the Catholic Church seem to have lost sight of.
In Luke 15:7, it says, “There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents.” The Church seems to be overly focused on the “joy in heaven” aspect, which is good and beautiful, at the expense of the “sinner who repents” aspect. Reality, truth, and God’s law and precepts are ignored while a version of mercy that does not recognize our need for repentance has taken center stage.
To encourage, through silence and confusing language, us who struggle with addictions to sex, drugs, shopping, etc. to “go to Confession and get back on track” while we continue to engage in our destructive behaviors is not merciful. This overlooks the need for the firm purpose of amendment that must include taking whatever action we can to avoid engaging in the sinful behavior again, including 12-step programs, therapy, and spiritual direction. Suffering and effort to help ourselves are a must for forgiveness, absolution, and sobriety. This is true mercy.
To encourage us with confusion about our sexual identities and attractions to base our identities on these feelings and demand that others, including the Church, affirm us in them is not merciful. This ignores the reality that our Creator assigns our identity, not our perceptions, and that the truth of our sexual identity is found in our chromosomes and in our sexual organs, not in our feelings. Statements that do not close the door on the possibility of the teachings changing in these areas are not merciful either; they foster false hope and encourage engaging in behaviors that only lead us further away from He Who is the only one who can help us in our confusion and destructive behaviors.
This is true Mercy. The mercy that invited the Pharisees, Sadducees, and scribes to change their way of living and understanding of their faith. The mercy that taught both the woman at the well and the woman caught in adultery that sin destroys their lives and condemns them. The mercy that led the Prodigal Son to live his disordered life outside the home and suffer poverty and hunger so he would turn back. The mercy that let me and my brother suffer and see our misdeeds clearly so we could become better men.
True mercy comforts, yes, but it also gives an uncomfortable whack when necessary. God will use these whacks in the form of temporal suffering to bring us to eternal life, having the long view in mind. They are part of the cross that each of us needs to bear to be divinized. Please, Mother Church, don’t rob us of what we need for salvation under the guise of a “mercy” that is incomplete if not entirely false.
Image from Wikimedia Commons
