This weekend we celebrate Divine Mercy—the incomprehensible gift of love that comes to us from God—Father, Son, & Spirit. One of the prayers before Communion at Mass expresses it in this way: “…by the will of the Father and the work of the Holy Spirit, through [the Son’s] death [you] gave life to the world…” Our redemption is specifically through Christ, but it is the work of the Blessed Trinity.
But what kind of “mercy” must be gained at such a price? And have we ever refused God’s mercy because the price was too severe for us to face? Is there such a thing for us as a “severe mercy” that “afflicts and shows mercy…will afflict you…but will have mercy on all of you” (Tobit 13:2, 5)? Is this the “gift” we long for?
It’s one thing to think of personal, physical suffering as ultimately beneficial. The pain which is post-operative is finally nothing compared with the healing that the surgery produces. Even horrific surgeries like amputations have with them at least a hope that the infection or cancer or gangrene has been prevented from any further systemic spread. And if that is the case, then the severity of the procedure was indeed merciful.
But there are other kinds of “severe mercies,” and one of them gave me the title to this essay. Sheldon and Davy Vanauken were a free-spirited couple who found themselves in Oxford and were befriended by C.S. Lewis. As a result of this relationship, they both became committed Anglican/Episcopalian believers. Then Davy died, and Sheldon was devastated. It was Lewis who suggested that a problem was Davy’s seeming advance in spirituality and closeness to Jesus that were leaving her husband somewhat behind. Lewis referred to her death at that particular time as “a severe mercy” because it stopped the simmering resentment Sheldon had for her spiritual growth, which was not matching. Lewis’ assessment was that had Davy lived, the resentment might well have spilled into hatred, divorce, and worse.
Severe mercies—how has God allowed us to be afflicted in the short term, knowing the outcome was better for us than the immediate gratifications we longed for? How much has any experience of the spiritual “dark night” actually drawn us closer to the Lord? Are we able to meditate on Colossians 1:24 and say YES to our Savior? Might our own sorrows and sufferings be the “severe mercy” that is part of another’s beginning on the path of discipleship?
In the words of the Letter to the Hebrews (12:2), let’s keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, and let’s beg him to experience all mercies—even those that (at the time) do not seem very “merciful.” And let’s never forget the price of the mercies we have from the Cross.
Footnote in the interests of full disclosure: Sheldon ultimately became a Catholic in Lynchburg, VA, and a compatriot of mine from Notre Dame days was the one who received him into the Catholic Church! He has since joined Davy in eternity.