Those responsible for the composition of the Catholic Catechism, given ever the carte blanche in regard to the establishment of its index, define mercy as follows: “the loving kindness, compassion, or forbearance shown to one who offends.” Father Wade Menezes, a member of the Fathers of Mercy based in Auburn, Kentucky, offers an even simpler definition of mercy: “Mercy is who God is. It is love's second name.”
The extension of mercy, then, is the extension of Christ Himself. Called to be Christ to the world, endowed with the very Spirit He Himself possessed while on earth, we as His living Church are called today more than ever before. We discard political correctness and social agendas in favor of a heart of faith and a voice of truth. And there’s no shame in admitting that the undertaking of shameless, vehement distribution of mercy is a task both difficult and formidable. Quite frankly, the desire to show mercy is often as difficult to maintain as is the distribution of mercy itself. Ironically, mankind has all but closed the door on our advances of love, from the very day Christ died on a cross to save us from ourselves.
Mercy remains crucial to the mission of the Church and her many members. For as much as we strive to exude love to those who cross our paths daily, and so contribute to Pope Francis’ announced Year of Mercy, I feel as though many Catholics do not understand the roots of the love they seek to give away. One of the best ways to increase the amount of mercy we show to others is to understand the manner by which it comes into our possession.
All of the great saints, from Mother Theresa to Catherine of Siena, seemed to live every moment of every day in a perpetual state of contribution, seeking only to deliver that which they understood to be lacking in an otherwise cold world. The distance between their seemingly unending openness and our own strict agendas, unchecked boxes, and personal priorities, seems to be a large one. However, if the source of their mercy and ours is the same, and it is, then the actual distance between their selflessness and our own selfishness, between their easy yes and our hesitant participation, is a simple one. The distance between their mercy and ours is only the distance between the bottom of their hearts, as compared to the bottom of our own.
Mercy remains remarkable simple: we get it to give it. In that it remains impossible to give what we do not possess, Mother Theresa, Catherine of Siena, and every other saint renowned for their merciful demeanor developed a complete openness to the will of God. In return, the depths of their hearts were filled only with the love and the mercy of Christ, and they were able to then deliver that mercy to each and every thirsty soul around them.
We cannot show mercy that we have not received. Be open to receiving the love of the Father, and you will find your heart will display a larger capacity to love, and to give love away. The entirety of that which surrounds you stands to gain from such an increase.
