One of the first words we encounter during the Season of Lent is the word, ‘mercy’. Our Liturgy begins, “Bless the Lord who forgives all our sins. His mercy endures forever.” “Lord have mercy,” is in so many Lenten responses. We are inundated with the appeal to God’s mercy, and rightly so. Lent, after all, is a penitential season.
A season of the Church set aside for penitence is a very good thing. It’s not—as often seems the case—a time to think about how bad one is, or has been. We jump too quickly to those pejoratives about ourselves. More the case, it is a time to recognize that something is wrong. Something within us is just not right; we are not whole. It is a time to take a good look at our lives, our actions (or lack thereof), and our attitudes—especially towards others. It is a time to acknowledge that we are in need of help to change that which hinders us from moving forward in our journey to, and with, God. It is a time to ask, or even to plead with, God for that help…depending on the intensity we feel the need for this change. This is where our understanding of mercy becomes important.
Our use of the word ‘mercy’ is legalistic. Mercy is that which is shown to the guilty who, by right, should be punished and yet are allowed to escape punishment altogether, or have it softened considerably from what one should expect. This understanding of mercy calls to mind the image of a monarch or judge who is expected to impose the harshest punishment for a crime or offense, but in a particular instance, holds back retribution and unexpectedly allows the offender to return to their normal life. Perhaps, as we use this word in the context of our relationship with God—our loving Parent, the very Source of our being—we may want to explore a different image.
Instead of God being the dreaded Oriental Ruler who brings calamity upon us for our sins, let’s just go ahead and believe Jesus when he calls God ‘Abba’ (perhaps as familiar as ‘daddy’). Mercy is a word that then changes in character from our normal usage. Mercy now emphasizes its meaning as compassion. The action of this is a beautiful English word to be found in our Book of Common Prayer–lovingkindness. God’s mercy is expressed to us as lovingkindness; it is a healing balm to our wounded-ness, it is restoration to our brokenness. The father’s response to the prodigal son’s return is a vivid example of how Jesus relates God’s mercy. This lovingkindness is abundantly available to us, but like the prodigal son in Jesus’ story, we must at least come to the understanding of our need for it.
Lent is a wonderful opportunity provided by the Church for each of us to explore our own spiritual situation. We are to do so honestly, but without self-condemnation. We are to do so prayerfully and without excuses. We are to be open to God and open with ourselves. In that context, our hearts may very well recall the final two versicles and responses of Suffrage B in Morning Prayer:
Lord, show us your love and mercy;
For we put our trust in you.
In you, Lord, is our hope;
And we shall never hope in vain.
Indeed, we never hope in vain. We know that God’s mercy, expressed as lovingkindness, is ever available to those who perceive their need and are ready to receive. This Lent, may you perceive the need, ask and receive.
—The Rev. Bill Holly
Chaplain to Retired Clergy, Tulsa