“The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. . .”
William Shakespeare “The Merchant of Venice”
Mercy seems to be a lost art. We thought that elevating self satisfaction over all other needs would make us happy. But it hasn’t worked out. By corrupting a famous beatitude into “Woe to the merciful, for they shall regret it,” we’ve changed a blessing into a curse–although our goal was the opposite. We see it in the destruction of the unborn. We see it when criminals are protected and the innocent aren’t. And lately, we’ve seen it in institutional mishandling of catastrophic events. Old timers shake their heads and wonder, “Whatever happened to mercy?“
Mercy–compassion for the miserable and a fundamental aspect of God’s character, is an attribute we ignore to our hurt. When we selfishly focus solely on our own comfort, we defraud ourselves. The material advantages we acquire by prudent selfishness are eclipsed by the damage done to our souls. Shutting out cries for help isolates us and stunts our spiritual growth. Turns out, being self-centered isn’t very rewarding, but we may not get that memo from our friends.
Here’s how it works. You notice a need and wonder if you can help. People point out the problems with getting involved. They will argue that your life will be easier and more pleasant if you just look the other way. While that might be true in the short run, I doubt that the hysteria about preserving comfort will pay off in the end. I have a retired physicist friend who is suffering from dementia. His wife, a tiny wisp of a woman visits him, feeds him, cleans him and tries to keep him as active as possible. People argued that she was working too hard and tried to stop her. “After all,” they said, “these are your sunset years; you should be enjoying them.” “But. . .” she replied, “he is my sweetheart.” Out of love, she heeds the call to daily mercy, and while you’d think all those hours spent at the nursing home with him would have dulled her outlook or made her less interesting, she truly is one of the brightest and funniest people I know. And It’s not only retirees who get pushback when they consider sacrificing comfort to conscience. A young woman nearby who had two biological children, adopted four more. She was warned that her life would be chaotic, her generosity unappreciated– hardly mind-blowing predictions. As it turns out, her life is sometimes chaotic (she has a sign on her wall that says “It’s ok not to be ok”) and her kids have no idea what pleasures she forfeited on their behalf. To her that doesn’t matter — a convenient life was never her goal, anyway.
The merciful are among us. I see mercy in my friends. I see it in the volunteers who have chosen to help hurricane victims. Heroes with chainsaws and cherry pickers. People who bring blankets and lanterns and food and water and tents. I see it in hospital visitors and animal rescuers and dedicated teachers and foster parents and preachers and counselors. I see it in truckers and artists, in first responders and musicians and cooks. Fred Roger’s mother taught him that when times were dark, to look for the helpers. That is sound advice; there will always be a few around.
What motivates individuals to respond to the call for mercy? My friend, Dayle, told me that when a tsunami hit Thailand in 2004, and volunteers came and went, the Thais kept asking one question: “Everyone else left us. Why did you stay?” She explained that, “We stay because of Christ, who showed us mercy. Now we are happy to help you.” In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus told the crowd, “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.” It’s a thought. Maybe, staying comfortable is not as important as we think.
