Mercy

Recently someone said to me that mercy is the willingness of one person to enter the chaos of another. I don't remember the context, but surely there must have been one. Even for a priest, to be offered that definition out of the blue would be a bit odd. "Mercy is the willingness of one person to enter the chaos of another, and oh, would you pass the wine, please." Would I ever - after taking a big slug for myself as I head to the other side of the party!

And, yet, it is a rich definition. Chaos, our culture tells us, is something to be avoided. We don't want to "get up into people's stuff, their business." Entering another's chaos makes us chaotic, we are told, makes us even a little crazy. Perhaps so, but probably not because chaos is so contagious. More likely the truth is that most of us live just above the level of obvious chaos, covered by a veneer of calm that in large part manages to keep us appearing sane and together. We stand back from too obvious disintegration for fear that our own may be exposed.

Hanging back is a defensible position and one frankly that sometimes we must take, but what of mercy? Mercy may indeed be the virtue, the generosity, the faithfulness that allows us to say to one whirling out of control, "I am going to stand right here, trying to remain sane myself, to be with you. If I see a glimpse of clarity and you want me to share it, I will. Otherwise, I shall simply stand along side for I know that in my times of chaos having someone near helps." In that willingness we become not pseudo social workers or therapists or priests but more fully human, more authentic co-journeyers. In my experience, answers, even really smart ones, settle chaos less often than some deep breathing and a little handholding.

Jesus did not seem to shy away from chaos. He could have walked around the circle of self-righteous prigs surrounding the woman accused of adultery; he could have picked his way through those selling sacrificial animals in the temple courtyard; he could have taken a glass of water from the woman at the well without "getting into her business," the business of five husbands and the trouble that comes from that. But he didn't. He mercifully entered the chaos, entering it, I suspect, with less pontification than the gospel narratives suggest. My guess is that he was simply, quietly, mercifully present.

It is still a good model.