Sermon: Mercy

Texts: Isaiah 40: 1-11; Mark 1:1-8

Date:  December 4, 2011

Rev. Dee Eisenhauer, Eagle Harbor Congregational Church

          Author Kathleen Norris and I both remember a time when grandmothers did not swear.  At least ours didn’t swear—or not in front of the grandkids, anyway.  (I heard my cranky grandpa swear once in a while, but never my grandmas.)  Norris says her grandmother did have a word she would resort to on occasions that might call out profanity from weaker souls.  She would occasionally exclaim “Mercy!” “when she was too awestruck, befuddled or exasperated to say anything else.”  Norris used to consider her grandma’s exclamation embarrassingly anachronistic, but now that she’s older, she’s beginning to think substituting “Mercy!” for an expletive is as good as any other word when other words fail. 

          “Mercy!” has the advantage of being clean, Christian, and relatively inoffensive as an exclamation.  As Christians, we might even claim that mercy is what it’s all about.  There’s a strong flavor of mercy in the prophet Isaiah’s words we read this morning.  The word of comfort that is offered is one of mercy, forgiveness and restoration.  The time of punishment for sin is over and the time of reconciliation and healing is at hand.  This word which came to exiles who were living far from home, with its promise of God gathering up the scattered sheep and leading them gently home, must indeed have brought great comfort to those who first heard it.    

          It’s still comforting to us all these generations later.  It’s good to know that God wants to speak tenderly to us, to draw near to us, to bring us good tidings.  It’s sweet to envision ourselves gathered in God’s arms like a shepherd carrying a lamb.  We all need a hug—that’s a permanent state of affairs for us wild and wooly humans.  I don’t care how old you are, sometimes you just want someone bigger and stronger than you to embrace you and tell you that you’re OK and everything is going to be OK.  Humanity can heave a sigh of relief, trusting in God’s mercy. 

          God is merciful.  That’s comforting.  For the most part.  As Kathleen Norris points out in her reflections on today’s lectionary texts, mercy is not a concept we always take to naturally.  We want mercy for ourselves, of course, but we’re not so sure God should be merciful to those guys.  In Norris’s words,

“It’s hard to lay claim to mercy in a culture that encourages us to be less than merciful. It’s only smart to think the worst of others and their motives and then act accordingly. How else are we to protect ourselves? The labels that so readily come to mind and too easily fall from our tongues -- right-wing nut-job, knee-jerk liberal, homophobe, pervert -- only amplify the atmosphere of fear and hostility. The enormous popularity of the Left Behind books leads me to suspect that many people conceive of the "day of the Lord" as Hollywood-style vengeance, God’s coming again to show those backsliders and unbelievers who’s right, once and for all. Mercy is not what we’re about, and we don’t want our God to be about it, either.”[1]

          Maybe an exclamation of “Mercy!” would sound like an actual swear word if we were crude enough to give voice to our lurking suspicion that there are some people in this wicked world who are not deserving of mercy, neither ours nor the Almighty’s.  If I understand it correctly, one of the reactions to evangelical pastor Rob Bell’s book that calls the notion of all non-Christians going to Hell into question was some orthodox thinkers trying to patiently explain to Bell that of course Mahatma Gandhi was in Hell, because (DUH!) he was not Christian.  If such believers were given a vision in which they saw Gandhi enjoying God’s extravagant hospitality in Heaven, they might yell “Mercy!” like a swear word.    I suppose I might do the same if I were given a vision of some horrid killer being forgiven and embraced by God.  Conceiving of the wideness of God’s mercy is a stretch for most of us mortals; it’s just the categories of the types of folk we think undeserving of mercy that vary from person to person or group to group. 

          At first blush one wouldn’t think of John the Baptist as a poster child for a merciful God.  He’s not the fellow you would want to summon to offer a word of comfort.  He doesn’t seem like the type to speak tenderly to God’s people.  He’s got an edge to him.  He’s a crusty character, sharp, disturbing.  Yet as Kathleen Norris points out, “When we look to John we find mercy made plain, for he points to God’s ultimate purpose, which is the forgiveness of our sins.”[2]  “John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” [Mark 1:4]  That’s how Mark’s gospel summarizes his work.  Forgiveness—another way of approaching God’s mercy—does sound comforting.  Repentance, not so much.  Repentance sounds like uncomfortable work.  But it seems that repentance is what prepares the way for the merciful God we long for to draw near.

          We were talking in Bible study about what it means to prepare the way for the Lord.  Isaiah’s inspiring poetry sings of every valley being lifted up, every mountain and hill being made low, uneven ground becoming level, and rough places made a plain, so that God can approach and God’s glory can be revealed.  Anna sagely noted that making a way for the Lord in our own souls means examining the rough places in ourselves that require smoothing out.  What are the stumbling blocks that stand between us and being fully reconciled to God?  What low places need to be lifted up, what jagged edges need to be made smooth?  What is blocking being in union and harmony with God?  Repentance demands some inner housecleaning.

          Although I don’t watch it, I am fascinated with the existence of the reality TV program “Hoarders.”  It seems there is a particular mental illness that has space to flourish in our society because we have so much stuff available to us.  People start out as collectors, and go over the edge, and they can’t stop.  [On screen: Here is a picture of one hoarder’s stairwell.]  You can see in this picture that there doesn’t appear to be a way to actually get up these stairs; there’s too much stuff on them.  If the resident needed to prepare the way for someone to get to the second floor, a lot of things would need to be moved out of the path. 

          Think of this as a metaphor for inner life.  Are there sins, bad habits, grudges and resentments that we are hanging on to long past their usefulness?  Are they cluttering up the way that Christ might travel into our souls to bring good news of mercy and peace?  Hatred or prejudice that doesn’t want to see mercy extended to someone else might be one such obstacle in the way.

          Many of the items that clutter a hoarder’s home may be useful, beautiful even, if they are kept in an appropriate place or perspective.  Collecting or displaying becomes illness in a hoarder’s home when they can’t stop.  Some aspects of our inner life may be similar.  I think of national pride as a potentially beautiful thing, in its proper place and perspective.  But if it takes on a life of its own and squeezes out respect for other nations or peoples, it begins to block the way of mercy.  If it piles up so high that we can’t see behind it to our own nation’s sin, it becomes a stumbling block. 

          Bona fide hoarders tend to fill up their houses so that there is hardly room to walk, or a place to sit or lie down.  It is an illness that thinks there is always room for more.  It is a picture of greed run amok.  But lest we judge, we might contemplate how greed is a problem for almost everyone.  I was listening to a rather snarky feature on “Marketplace” on NPR a few days ago that was trying to answer the question about just who is the 99% and who is the 1% that the Occupy movement talks about.  The research says (if I remember correctly, which may or may not be the case) that the 1% are making $506,000 or more per year.  While the 99% may cast stones at them for their greed, in truth most of us wish we had a little more money, for whatever reason.  We may not be all that different from the top 1% in desire for more.  It’s a problem for almost all of us.  How might greed be a stumbling block in preparing a way for the kingdom of God to flourish?

          Some hoarders end up being unable to even get rid of trash.  It’s not always clear when some things cross over from being valuable to being trash, but it does happen.  In our household we ended up throwing out a lot of canned food a few months ago that had long ago crossed its expiration date without us paying attention because it was stored in an out of the way place.  Anger can be that way in our inner lives.  We need to be angry when we have been wronged; it is a way we protect ourselves from further harm.  But it can become trash that blocks the way of mercy and forgiveness if it is hoarded too long. 

          I found a story about this linked at textweek.com that I want to share with you.  It’s a story related by a chaplain about a woman named Sharon he once knew.  This is the account he wrote:

Her story began in college, a place of new life and new possibilities.  She embraced this new life with a passion, seeking liberation from youthful limitations.   With every new activity, Sharon felt the shackles of restraint loosen a bit more, bringing her the independence for which she had so deeply longed.  But freedom ended suddenly when, at a party, she was viciously raped.  No doubt, she had made some bad choices but she had done nothing to deserve this.   And in her was birthed a hate that only such defilement can muster. 

Somehow, she lived on.  In time, she married and had children.  If her early ideas of freedom were impossible, then perhaps a very normal life would do.  Perhaps here was a place where the dreams of her past could not reach.   Yet, the nightmare sometimes resides in the waking.   One day, she found her husband gone.  He told her he deserved to find love.  He left her and he left his children.  And he left with her best friend.

Deep wounds do not always bring immediate death, only the excruciating edict of continual suffering.   Each day, the black void of her being was filled more completely, filled with a growing hatred toward these ones who had forced such violation upon her.  She relished the hatred.  It seemed to be her only emotion, the only feeling that proved she was alive.  It utterly consumed her. 

It was there, in this living hell, where she received a bit of life offered by another who also knew violation, a morsel of hope extended from a community who knew how to love.  It was the voice of God, birthed into her existence by a people who had heard the word of peace.   At first, she didn’t want to hear; yet, bit by bit she did listen.  Slowly, she opened herself to the Voice.  And in the place of enmity, a small seed was germinated - the seed of love, a seed that grew until finally she could respond – “let it go and love … and forgive … and live.” 

In a town far from her own, a woman who had once been a friend, opened an envelope and read the words, “In the midst of it all, I still love you.”  Then, on a normal business day, a man picked up the office phone to hear a familiar voice, “No matter what, I forgive you.”  And one day, a woman who had once been dead, kneeled at the altar rail and placed upon it a note.  It was a note to a man from her college past, a man whom she would never again meet.  It was a note about pain, a note of life.  It was a note which said, “Even in the violation, even after all these years, I forgive you.  Please forgive me for my sin of hate.”

It was redemptive love, forgiveness flowing out of the deepest violation.  “Holy One, forgive them, for they don’t know what they do.”  Christ incarnate in her life, peace realized.[3]

Merle Shain has said, "One can never change the past--only the hold it has on you.”

Here’s what I believe happened.  Sharon stopped hoarding her injuries, let them go, and in so doing she prepared the way for mercy to move freely toward those who had hurt her, and into her own heart.  [Slide: image of shepherd and sheep.] The shepherd gathered her up in a tender embrace which was made possible by her difficult work of repentance.

          Opening the way for mercy within us and between us is the way to peace, the peace that God gives her beloved.  A few more words from Kathleen Norris:

“Can it be that mercy really is at the heart of God? It seems too good, and too bad, to be true. What room is there for our revenge, the satisfaction of seeing those we detest judged and put in their place? None whatsoever. But there is room for us, if we will only believe…that God’s patience is salvation for us all. It’s when we are made to recognize our own neediness that we can stand, lost in wonder, praise and not a little exasperation, and give thanks as my grandmother Norris would do, saying only, "Oh, Mercy."”