The Friday Letters

19 February 2010

My Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

Here are the first and last lines from today’s reflection, as published in the Episcopal Relief and Development “2010 Lenten Meditations” booklet, available in the Parish Hall:

The Lord is full of compassion and mercy: Come let us adore him.

Compassion and mercy are difficult to measure, if we can’t recognize how deeply we need them. I want justice when you’ve wronged me and mercy when I’ve wronged you. Maybe one day we’ll learn is doesn’t work that way.

That first sentence ought to sound vaguely familiar to you as it is part of our regular Lenten liturgy. The second thought is a wonderful one, poignantly highlighting our desire to have God’s blessings applied in exactly the way that we wish.

When we are wronged, by another person or by a system indifferent to us, it is easy to call for justice. Easy, and not wrong. However, when we are the one doing wrong, even if unintentionally or accidentally, justice often means loosing some advantage or comfort that we had grown accustomed to. It’s harder to be excited about justice when it feels like we’re loosing out through no large fault of our own.

It is the same with mercy. It isn’t easy to ask for forgiveness, but once we’ve decided to do so it is often with the expectation of mercy. OK, we think, we screwed up: our fault. Once we’ve admitted it, forgiveness seems almost obligatory. Yet how much harder is it for us to forgive? How difficult to show mercy, particularly when mercy isn’t even deserved.

It is a good thing that God does not hold to our standards of justice and mercy. We are forever tied to our own perspective, while God views each of us as a unique but equally well beloved creature. Justice falls on the deserving and undeserving alike. Mercy is given to all, regardless of their individual worthiness. Several of Jesus’ best known parables illustrate this principle to the confusion and objection of his listeners. This isn’t fair. Not at all. And thank God.

Peace,

Ben.