by the Rev. Scott Walters
I’ve had mercy on my mind. It’s such an important word and practice for Christians and for Jews. A Hebrew prophet named Micah, who lived about seven centuries before the birth of Jesus, spoke memorably of mercy. “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” It’s a verse and a clarifying challenge many of us return to when we feel the need to recenter ourselves.
In my carpentry days, I learned quickly about the stability of triangles. Think of the way a square with hinged corners would flop around, but a triangle would not. When you build a house, somehow, you have to embed triangles in all those rectangular walls if you want them to stay upright.
Similarly, Micah says that God requires justice, mercy, and humility of us, which feels like a stable triangle to me. But he foregrounds one of the three. Mercy, he says, is the one we are to love. Yes, do justice and walk humbly. But mercy is what we are to give our hearts to.
There is great wisdom here. Just looking at the way my own heart and mind tend to work, I can see that one way I regularly lose my way is by loving justice more than mercy.
Here’s what I mean. One of the deepest blessings of my life was to grow up in a loving, Christian home. I can assure you that in this context, the presence of mercy did not mean there were no rules or norms or consequences for bad behavior. What it did mean was that I don’t remember a single time when I was punished in anger by my parents. Now that I’m an all too flawed parent myself, I’m sure there must have been moments in which Mom and Dad were more than a little annoyed when they meted out a punishment for their occasionally infuriating oldest child. But I knew that their hearts were ultimately bent toward mercy and that punishment was a last resort. I knew that nothing in my parents enjoyed punishing their child. Looking back, knowing that mercy was the higher value was essential for their discipline to do its best work on my developing soul.
This week, Bishop Budde of Washington implored our president to be merciful toward people who feel scared and vulnerable right now and to respect the dignity of every human being as he begins his second term. She did not impugn his character or question his motives. She made no policy recommendations. She acknowledged that he, like herself, says he believes God has placed a sacred call on his life. And then she simply drew forth several very basic and essential teachings from the Judeo-Christian tradition, which happen to be prominent in every major religious tradition I’m aware of as well.
As I understand it, this kind of call back to the lives God created us to live is what church is for. It takes the diligent practice of love and truthfulness and accountability to live as a community formed in the way of Jesus. Also mercy. It takes a basic predisposition toward mercy, especially when relationships are strained or fractured.
Strains and fractures also mean we may be called at times to remind each other of what is required of us. That there will be ways of speaking and acting toward one another that we cannot abide by and remain whole. But, I’m coming (all too slowly) to see that if I enjoy imposing what I believe is justice on anyone, even an enemy, I’ve begun loving justice more than mercy. Which means I’ve missed the mark. Which means I’m not repairing the problem. I’m part of it.
When Eve and Adam eat the forbidden fruit in Genesis 3, and shame and guilt enter the human story, Elizabeth Oldfield notes that God’s first response is not judgment. It is mercy. When the two see they are naked, “the creator of the universe sews them each an outfit,” she writes. “It always makes me think of the worn-down parents of an adult addict finally needing to ask them to move out, making themselves draw the healthy boundary, but tucking a wad of cash in their child’s bag all the same.”
Mercy and humility are not the enemies of justice. They’ve been its essential, stabilizing partners since the beginning. Even in the heart of God, we’re told. Especially in the heart of God, we’re told.
So, friends, I invite each of us to recenter mercy in our personal lives and in our common life whenever we lose sight of it, which I’ll probably do a time or two before I even finish typing this little blog post. Justice too often deteriorates into vengeance and worse when mercy is not my heart’s true love. But, as the prophet says, if we’ll wrap our tries at justice with mercy and humility, a world that’s made a little more just and whole is still possible. I still believe him.
Micah sums it up nicely! Danke Sehr!!!
Thank you, Scott. This is so very timely. As familiar as that verse is, I confess I haven’t spent a lot of time focused on the verb love and how that shifts the focus here in a rather profound way. I need to come back to this over and over again.
Mercy me! This hits my heart and soul. And it makes sense in my head, too. Scott, you make sense. Thank you for merciful guidance and wisdom.
“…I can see that one way I regularly lose my way is by loving justice more than mercy.”
Wow. I think that in this present climate of our country, this quote speaks volumes to us all. Thank you so much Scott for this revelation. It definitely has encouraged me to do better. “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.” – Matthew 5:7
I believe that.
Thank You
Thanks for your reply, Reggie. Matthew 5 was definitely ringing in the background. I’d like to reflect more on that one too sometime, as I’m wondering if it’s less about getting a prize for mustering up a little mercy and more about the space that opens up in us and in our lives when mercy is how we meet the next moment. Thanks for bringing it up. Grateful for you.
Thanks for this, Scott.
Thank you for this
I needed to read/hear this this week. Thanks you Scott.
Thank you.
Lately it’s easy to see all of the new actions as attacks. Targeting communities , quietly questioning supporters of the new actions makes my head spin although again quietly. Your words tell me that applying mercy is a way of controlling situation’s that seem so out of hand. It feels good seeing these actions that way. Even alittle hopeful. Thanks Scott
Oh, how I needed to remember these merciful words. I am quick to judge and slow to give mercy. Thank you, Scott, for reminding me of the truth of God’s everlasting mercy.
Well said, Pastor Scott.
I’ve never thought about justice and mercy this way before… Very well said.
Awesome message.
I’m just coming back to this after an afternoon in a not so cold shop! Thanks to all of you for reading and diving into a little conversation and reflection on the way of mercy. There’s much to explore here together.
Grace & peace,
Scott
Bless you Scott Walters!
Thank you, Scott. This reminds me of a great poem by Philip Levine:
The Mercy
by Philip Levine
The ship that took my mother to Ellis Island
eighty-three years ago was named “The Mercy.”
She remembers trying to eat a banana
without first peeling it and seeing her first orange
in the hands of a young Scot, a seaman
who gave her a bite and wiped her mouth for her
with a red bandana and taught her the word,
“orange,” saying it patiently over and over.
A long autumn voyage, the days darkening
with the black waters calming as night came on,
then nothing as far as her eyes could see and space
without limit rushing off to the corners
of creation. She prayed in Russian and Yiddish
to find her family in New York, prayers
unheard or misunderstood or perhaps ignored
by all the powers that swept the waves of darkness
before she woke, that kept “The Mercy” afloat
while smallpox raged among the passengers
and crew until the dead were buried at sea
with strange prayers in a tongue she could not fathom.
“The Mercy,” I read on the yellowing pages of a book
I located in a windowless room of the library
on 42nd Street, sat thirty-one days
offshore in quarantine before the passengers
disembarked. There a story ends. Other ships
arrived, “Tancred” out of Glasgow, “The Neptune”
registered as Danish, “Umberto IV,”
the list goes on for pages, November gives
way to winter, the sea pounds this alien shore.
Italian miners from Piemonte dig
under towns in western Pennsylvania
only to rediscover the same nightmare
they left at home. A nine-year-old girl travels
all night by train with one suitcase and an orange.
She learns that mercy is something you can eat
again and again while the juice spills over
your chin, you can wipe it away with the back
of your hands and you can never get enough.
Oh my. Thank you, Hope. I’m eating my breakfast toast before a full day of church and am so moved by this. Tangible mercy. Mercy on the tongue of someone traveling to a strange land hoping to find welcome. Thank you for this. I hope you’re well these days. I hear you’re retiring! I hope this means much more time to write and watch birds and more. Peace.
My triangle is quick to reach for self-righteous indignation, fear, and control. My quest is for your triangle: justice, mercy, and humility. Not going to get there, but it is a quest!!! I can hope for the best!!!
Thanks, Scott Walters
mary honey
Thanks so much, Scott, for reminding me where my heart should be focused during these particularly challenging times. Your image of the triangle for justice, mercy, and humility will help me to keep things balanced as I bear in mind another image of the scales of justice which share that shape when all is eventually set to right. ( ‘So good to see y’all in LR recently…Hugs to you & Ardelle♥️)
I needed to hear (read) that. And I need to repeat it to myself often. Thank you.
Thank you for this Scott. I will be more mindful to love mercy. This rings so true but it is always a challenge.
Thank you, Mary, Debbie, Katie, and Kim. Love seeing the names and reading the thoughts of so many open hearted people I admire who read these musings and join the conversation. It’s so good to remember we’re not alone in this.