“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.”
Matthew 5:7
I have for some time been infatuated with words or phrases that have changed their meaning over the years or disappeared altogether. One example of this is when the architect, Christopher Wren, was showing off the completed St. Paul’s Cathedral in London to King James, the monarch replied, “It’s awful.” But far from being a harsh criticism, it was high praise, “full of awe.” Recently I came across a TED-talk where language historian, Anne Curzan, talks about this phenomenon. She gives a wonderful list of words whose meanings have changed. If you like this sort of thing, just google her name.
Words and phrases do change, but sometimes they even disappear. Consider the phrase, “just deserts (pronounced “desserts”). That phrase appeared to be lost until recently. “Just deserts” is, if not a phrase, most certainly a feeling, that is out there these days. The phrase comes from around or even before the 15th century and means “getting what they deserve.” It has popped back up in these days of the coronavirus pandemic. Just consider:
In this time when politicians, health experts, and social media are imploring people to stay home and isolate themselves as much as possible, it is so maddening to see young people disregarding the warnings and communing at crowded beaches or in bars, often in communities that are populated by elderly people, the folks most susceptible to the virus. Just as puzzling are some pastors who encourage their congregations to continue worship services. Last Sunday, a pastor in Baton Rouge welcomed over 1,000 of his parishoners to worship, passing out “anointed handkerchiefs” to protect them from the virus, which he declared a political hoax. One can’t help but be aware of the un-Christlike words, quick to come to the mind and oftentimes past the lips, “I hope they get their just deserts, that they get what they deserve.”
In this most anxious time, it is not all that difficult to become so incensed that we wish that those playing so loose with their own health and the health of others should get what they deserve. But that moves us to a deeper question, “What if everybody got exactly what they deserved?” And even scarier yet, what if we ourselves got what we deserve?
C.S. Lewis once woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He was having a dream, a frightening dream for him about the hereafter. He was focused on a theological concept, that what we receive in the hereafter is what we have given here on earth. That is, if we’ve given love, we receive love; but if we’ve given judgment, we receive judgment. Lewis was startled by the thought of the hereafter as the place where we get what we’ve given . . . we get what we deserve. Of course, Lewis modified this way of thinking as evidenced in The Chronicles of Narnia, The Great Divorce, and other writings. But the dream does make one stop and think, doesn’t it?
It seems to me that today’s beatitude is a sermon in a sentence, an eloquently brief synopsis of our calling as disciples: “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.” To understand this fifth beatitude we must get at the meaning of the word “mercy.” It is a rich word, deep in meaning and significance. The word comes from the Hebrew word for mercy, which is “hesod.” “Hesod mercy” is not mere sympathizing; nor does it mean simply to feel sorry for someone in trouble, to have pity. “Hesod mercy” is the ability to step into someone else’s shoes, to see things from their perspective, to think with their minds and to feel with their emotions. To be merciful, therefore, is an intentional act of the will, a deliberate attempt to show concern at the deepest level.
Several years ago, Fred Craddock, the most gifted preacher and teacher of preachers, was in Atlanta speaking to a very prestigious group of people in an exclusive club in the heart of the city. As he sat down at the head table, he noticed that the man sitting next to him looked very familiar, and yet he couldn’t come up with his name. So finally, Dr. Craddock stuck out his hand and said, “Hi! I’m Fred Craddock. I don’t believe we’ve ever met before.” The other gentleman smiled a bit nervously and said, “Hello Dr. Craddock, it’s nice to meet you. My name is John . . . John Erlichman. You’ve probably heard of me. I served in the Nixon administration.” Dr. Craddock was stunned. “Well yes, I’ve heard of you. You were one of the Watergate people. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.” Erlichman replied, “Oh, that’s OK. Most people when they recognize me, turn away and don’t want to be seen with me. I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable.” “Uncomfortable? Why no, why should you make me feel uncomfortable?” And Erlichman said, “Because of the things I did. I committed some serious moral offenses. You’re a minister, and the church is not very tolerant of such things.” With that Dr. Craddock put his hand on John Erlichman’s arm and said, “My friend, hasn’t anyone spoken to you about mercy and grace and love and forgiveness?” Great big tears came to Erlichman’s eyes, “No, I’m afraid they haven’t. Not much at all.”
In these stressful days that have disrupted our lives and even taken lives, it would seem to me to be important to reconsider the mercy of God. And in the anger and resentment we seem to come in contact with so much, perhaps a guiding principle may be found in the heavenly perspective of mercy found, and mercy shared.
William Shakespeare seems to have discovered that. In his play, The Merchant of Venice, there is the grand soliloquy of Portia who says,
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.
‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The thronèd monarch better than his crown.
His scepter shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptered sway.
It is enthronèd in the hearts of kings;
It is an attribute to God Himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God’s
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this:
That in the course of justice none of us
Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. . .
Act 4, Scene 1.
A Time of Reflection and Prayer
- Take some time to consider a moment when you have received mercy. Thank God for that moment, and if the person who was the intermediary of that mercy is alive, write or call them to express the gratitude of grace.
- Be an instrument to mercy during this trying time. Who do you know that is struggling right now, pressed down by anger, resentment or fear? Take time to pray for them and then engage them in a call or a letter, simply saying something akin to, “I was thinking of you today, wondering how you are doing . . .” Hopefully, it will provide an opportunity for grace.
A Musical Guide to Prayer: The Eagles’ “There’s a Hole in the World Tonight”
There’s a hole in the world tonight
There’s a cloud of fear and sorrow
There’s a hole in the world tonight
Don’t let there be a hole in the world tomorrow
They say that anger is just love disappointed
They say that love is just a state of mind
But all this fighting over who is anointed
Oh, how can people be so blind?
There’s a hole in the world tonight
There’s a cloud of fear and sorrow
There’s a hole in the world tonight
Don’t let there be a hole in the world tomorrow
Oh, they tell me there’s a place over yonder
Cool water running through the burning sand
Until we learn to love one another
We will never reach the promised land
There’s a hole in the world tonight
There’s a cloud of fear and sorrow
There’s a hole in the world tonight
Don’t let there be a hole in the world tomorrow
–written by Don Henley and Glenn Frey in response to the September 11, 2001 attacks