Mercy, Mercy Mercy

Nine years ago, Pope John Paul II instituted the feast of the Divine Mercy on this Sunday in the Octave of Easter. On one level, the celebration is based on the request that Jesus reportedly made to Sr. Faustina Kowalska, a Polish nun. More importantly, the Scripture readings of this day all speak of God’s Mercy, made visible through Jesus and His Church.

Our Lord imparted this gift time and again throughout His ministry, yet in a preeminent way from the Cross when He forgave His enemies and granted Paradise to the (“good”) repentant thief. As Saint John recounts, Mercy is given in the Upper Room on the evening of Jesus’ Resurrection. “Peace”—it is not the absence of strife; it is harmony with God, others, self, and creation. Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles and imparts the power to forgive sins. It is the gift of judgment: on one hand, my judgment that I cannot do this alone, and God’s judgment that He will not let us do it alone.

Wherever forgiveness is found, God is present; yet the Sacrament of Reconciliation is the preeminent forum for Divine Mercy. Confessing our sins is an act of faith and an act of love. In his first letter, we heard Saint John say, “The one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God is the victor over the world.” and “For the love of God is this, that we keep His commandments.” We do not always choose to live according to our faith—we do not always keep the commandments—yet each day we can allow the Lord’s victory to uproot our failures and raise us to a life of virtue. In sacramental Confession we do this mindfully, in the presence of one to whom Jesus has given the sacred power of total restoration with Him and the community. Yet it is not magic: it does not seem to take lasting root unless we cooperate with grace by living a virtuous life, supplanting bad habits with good ones.

The early Church demonstrated such a life of virtue. According to the Acts of the Apostles, they generously distributed their material items to those in need. They knew well that generosity extended to the spiritual realm: people forgiveness encouraged people to make changes in their lives; those who had trouble adopting good habits found challenge and support from their brothers and sisters in faith. Everyone got what they needed, because everyone gave away what they needed.

This is what the Church means by “works of mercy”: taking the actions of love to alleviate the burdens of others. These actions are traditionally categorized as “corporal” or “spiritual,” benefiting the body or the soul. Of course, what is done for one is done for the other, for when you separate body and soul, the result is death.

The corporal works of mercy are: feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, clothing the naked, sheltering the homeless, visiting the sick, visiting the imprisoned, and burying the dead. We can and should be directly involved in such activities, but circumstances may only allow us to assist others to do them, which is certainly good. Thinking about doing these things does not suffice. It comes down to honesty, acceptance, and generosity. “Lord, show me how to be useful. Help me to recognize what I can and should do, and give me the grace to do it joyfully and generously.”

The spiritual works of mercy are not as frequently recognized or attended: instructing the ignorant, counseling the doubtful, admonishing the sinner, bearing wrongs patiently, forgiving offenses willingly, comforting the sorrowful, and praying for the living and the dead. Like the corporal works of mercy, some of these are self-explanatory, but sometimes the self-explanatory merits further explanation because we tend to breeze over things too quickly. If someone is ignorant (doesn’t know something), we can tell or show the truth. This doesn’t mean trivia, or showing off obscure points of fact. If someone is doing something sinful or living an immoral life, we can encourage the person to redirect his course. These two in particular can get us into murky waters if pride is involved. Self-righteousness isn’t a good place out of which we correct each other. Sometimes we hear: “How dare you judge me?” This one unfortunately silences many of us into cowardice: we dare not hurt someone’s feelings! Better to neglect their soul! Parents, professionals of all sorts, and priests are obligated to assist people to live according to the commandments. Of course, personal example is important—even (especially) when you think that nobody’s looking.

Prudence and humility steer us in performing these and other works of mercy. What is the right circumstance for doing this? Am I actually able to do it? Do I have the resources, or would I be neglecting my family, my parish, or other recipients of my service? What is my motivation: making myself feel or look better; putting the other person in her place; or glorifying my Creator and helping His children, my brothers and sisters?

When we fail to obey the commandments, we are doing ourselves and our community a disservice. The Body of Christ is not tending toward its full maturity. Christ Himself is neglected in the poor who are not fed and are not taught how to help themselves when possible. Christ Himself is slighted by the road-rager who screams at a fellow driver. Christ’s covenant of love with His Church is not demonstrated by the people who live as husband and wife outside marriage. (Any infraction of the commandments can be inserted here.) But we don’t want to imagine ourselves in a deadlocked position, as if the only thing we can do is throw our hands in the air and lament the sorry state of affairs. Often there is something we can do. May God help us to do it with humility and prudence!