Monsignor Mercy

Showing mercy and being twice blessed  

Luke 7:11-17  

Jesus journeyed to a city called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd accompanied him. As he drew near to the gate of the city, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. A large crowd from the city was with her. When the Lord saw her, he was moved with pity for her and said to her, “Do not weep.” He stepped forward and touched the coffin; at this the bearers halted, and he said, “Young man, I tell you, arise!” The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Fear seized them all, and they glorified God, crying out “A great prophet has arisen in our midst, “ and “God has visited his people.” This report about him spread through the whole of Judea and in all the surrounding region.   

          Some of the most memorable moments in life are touched by mercy. Sometimes in a gratuitous, unexpected and undeserved way, another person becomes the instrument of God’s mercy for us. I’ll never forget when that happened to me as a newly ordained priest. It was April, 1997 and after working as a priest for a year, I had just put together my tax documents, and was shocked that I owed $2,000 in taxes. You see, I had never earned enough money before to even pay taxes, so this came as quite a surprise. But now that I was a rich priest, I had to give my “pound of flesh” to the IRS. That April afternoon, Msgr. Hebert walked by my office and noticed the alarmed and anxious look on my face. He immediately surmised my predicament and asked, “Well, John, how much do you owe?” I answered in a sheepish and small voice, “I owe $2,000.” He smiled and said, “Don’t worry, I will help you pay it.” I could have run up to him and kissed him; but I didn’t. Now that I am a pastor myself, I make sure to avoid the associate priests during the month of April, so I don’t have to give them $2,000. But you see, Msgr. Hebert was an instrument of God’s mercy for me, and I’ll never forget that moment.   

          You know, there is no more eloquent exposition of mercy than in Shakespeare’s play, The Merchant of Venice. A very wise woman, named Portia, explains what mercy is.  She says:  “The quality of mercy is not strained;  It droppeth like 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 throned monarch better than his crown.”    She goes on:    “[Mercy] is enthroned in the hearts of kings,  It is an attribute of God himself;  And earthly power doth then show likest God’s  When mercy seasons justice” (The Merchant of Venice, IV, 1). Did you catch all that? In other words, the best kind of kings always season their justice with mercy, just like we season our French fries with salt: both justice and French fries taste better when they are seasoned. By the way, the phrase “a pound of flesh” comes from this play, and Portia’s plea was to forgive and not demand the pound of flesh. Monsignor’s mercy helped me escape from paying my own “pound of flesh” to the IRS. The most memorable moments in life are marked by mercy.   

          In the gospel today we see Jesus also seasoning justice with mercy. He comes upon a procession of mourners carrying a deceased young man to be buried. Then Jesus, suddenly moved with mercy, goes over to the coffin, touches the young man, and raises him to life. Notice no one asked Jesus for this miracle – not even the young man’s mother – it was unexpected, it was undeserved, it was gratuitous. Portia’s words shine out in Jesus’ actions: “The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven…It is an attribute of God himself.” And how did the people react? We read: “They glorified God, crying out ‘A great prophet has arisen in our midst’ and ‘God had visited his people’.” Just like I was blessed by Msgr. Hebert’s unsolicited and generous mercy and wanted to kiss him, so the widow and the people praise God for this miracle of mercy. The most memorable moments are touched with mercy.   

          This weekend parishioners from Immaculate Conception Church are seeking to be touched by God’s mercy, too. Oh, they’re not hoping for Msgr. Hebert to give them $2,000, or for Jesus to raise a dead man back to life – although both those things would be great – rather, they seek a “plenary indulgence” for their sins. What is a “plenary indulgence”? Well, when we sin, we not only need “forgiveness” but we also need to do “penance” in order to balance the scales of justice. But this weekend we walk through the Holy Door, and like Portia, we ask God to “season his justice with mercy,” and remove all the temporal punishments for sin. In other words, a plenary indulgence is like a “get out of jail free card,” which gets us out of purgatory free. In Shakespearean language, a plenary indulgence asks God not to require his pound of flesh from us sinners.   

          Of course, we should not only seek to receive mercy; we should be eager to dole it out to others. My friends, look for moments that are unexpected, undeserved, and unsolicited, and season you own sense of justice with mercy. Forgive someone who has hurt you, and don’t hold a grudge. Leave a larger tip at a restaurant than you usually do. Visit your parents even when it’s not Thanksgiving or Christmas. Give a little more in the Sunday collection (you knew that was coming). Help a perfect stranger who cannot pay you back. Adopt a child in a foreign country by supporting them financially. Do not demand that someone give you the “pound of flesh” that they legitimately owe you. Why? Well because “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.”   

          A few years ago, Msgr. Hebert lavished his mercy upon me again. He invited me and another priest to travel with him to San Francisco, where we stayed in a fancy hotel and got to tour the wine country. He covered all our expenses. Once again, Msgr. Hebert blessed me with a memorable act of mercy: undeserved, unexpected, and gratuitous. Maybe this means I need to stop avoiding my associate priest in the month of April.   

          Praised be Jesus Christ!