Mercy as both the inferior and superior place. But always learning.

The shock of mercy

The picture for this blog post is of the Trattoria de Gli Amici in Rome. The Catholic community of Sant’Egidio runs this restaurant where the food is prepared by individuals with Down Syndrome. As you can imagine, most people think, “aww, what a beautiful mercy.” As if it is a pity and a charity. I overheard someone saying one time, “Ok, let’s go support them and enjoy a simple meal.” Wrong! Eat there and you are likely to think it’s one of the more delicious and flavor filled restaurants in town. Mercy is often shocking to the senses of the one who offers it. The point of the restaurant is not just to provide steady employment but to prove a point of just how capable these individuals can be.

The temptation is to see mercy as a transaction. In the case of the restaurant staffed by individuals with disabilities, I’m tempted to see my dollars going to work to preserve them from despair. But once the flavors hit the palate, I start to wonder, have I underestimated them? Are they as talented, as dignified, as capable as me?

Having spoken with more than 250 individuals who were navigating their exit from the Catholic Church, a persistent tension became obvious: mercy is often seen as a tool for correcting someone, and learning how to do it with a smile. The person giving mercy often believes they have the superior place of truth and the person receiving it is void. The other view of mercy is a much more humble one that leads to a two-way relationship and the person GIVING mercy often feels as if they have learned more about the risen Christ than the one being forgiven.

Is it kindness or control?

When is mercy genuine kindness, and when does it run the risk of accidentally silencing dissent? The difference often lies in the posture of the person extending mercy to the person in need.

In the first view, which is mercy as a tool for correction, the person operates from a perceived state of perception and look down on the failures of the other. That kind of “mercy” even when done with a smile and patient tone can feel more like a judgement and friendship with conditions. For those who feel like they may be unwanted in their parish, something commonly reported by remarried, gay, or lapsed Catholics, the experience of mercy becomes alienating.

This is where the second, more profound view of mercy enters: the person offering mercy recognizes it as a path to their own personal spiritual growth. This perspective aligns with that of Bishop Bonny, the prelate in Antwerp where our same-sex blessing was conducted in May. He says that mercy is fundamentally about listening to the Sensus Fidei, the sense of faith of the whole people of God. Offering and receiving mercy go well beyond the person and the situation at hand. Giving mercy becomes about entering that place of mutual learning. For example, how can one offer a blanket judgement of remarried, gay, or lapsed Catholics without acknowledging how the pains they have endured in some ways mimic the suffering of Christ on the cross. Moreso, how can one offer mercy without learning how many people on their second (civil) marriage have found stability and positivity in a way that their initial sacramental marriage did not. Where is God at work in the person? Mercy is not about keeping someone stuck but moving forward side-by-side.

Holiness and the Embrace of Fragility

This distinction in mercy mirrors two differing views of holiness. For many, holiness is an on/off state of perfection, achieved through strict adherence to the rules. For others, holiness is a lifelong process of becoming everything one was made to be. It is a lifelong journey of opening your heart up to God and striving despite setbacks, progress, and fragility. In this context, offering mercy becomes less focused on the corrective action but as a part of the messy path to holiness for the one who is walking alongside the sinner.

How many people have told me they doubt God because of the suffering, illness, and violence they have witnessed in their own community or family? A lot.

See, the incarnation (Jesus becoming flesh) according to theologian Fr. Diego Arfuch is God opening himself up to vulnerability and suffering. God became fragile and lived among our fragileness. That is the human condition. That is the place in which God shows he understands the messiness of our lives and that he is always faithful in walking it with us. Fr. Diego Arfuch then explains the resurrection from the dead is God’s promise to us that our suffering has been consummated and validated. As Catholics, we too believe in the future resurrection of the dead for our own bodies.

Mercy is the closeness of the living God amongst our weaknesses. It is a way to genuinely and sincerely say that, “I believe in something better for you” while at the same time, “your [messy] life experiences have taught me something deeper about Christ.” And as you can imagine, the only way to do that without being snarky and condescending is to genuinely walk a life of friendship among others without judgement.

When mercy is understood through the lens of fragility, the need to correct or judge dissipates. Instead, the faithful are driven to an active and creative charity, learning to live with their fragilities and not despite them. When you offer mercy, do so because you are seeking to learn about the risen Christ from someone else.

The trattoria in Rome is an example of how encountering someone else’s fragility brings me an inch closer than my previous understanding of how God’s creativity is at work through the dignity of others. We always underestimate the abilities of the people who show mercy to at first. If I have acted superior to the crosses of others, how much too, do I underestimate the power of the resurrection when Christ consummated the fragility of mankind into something meaningful for all of us?

References

Arfuch, D. (2024). Ideas for a Theology of Fragility: The Proclamation of Divine Mercy in Latin Patristics, pp. 25-44. FIAMMA VIVA Series, TERESIANUM ROMA.

Nullens, P. Mercy and Sex in the Roman Catholic Church.