Pope John Paul II (1920-2005) wrote his second encyclical about the mercy of Christ (30 November 1980). When the Polish Pontiff wrote this letter there was plenty of injustice and unrest abounding: communism was reacting in Poland, the civil war in El Salvador shifted into more indiscriminate violence that cost thousands of lives, and Iran was awakening to Western domination (which it continues to shed even today). Similar injustice and violence would persist in the decades to come (e.g., Bosnia, Serbia, Gulf War, terrorism on a rise). Nevertheless, what a timely pastoral letter to the Flock of Christ about an aspect of Christian life that is desperately needed: mercy.
The heart of this encyclical is a prolonged reflection on the parable of the prodigal son. He points out that the younger son’s squandering of his inheritance is a mini-reflection of each of our lives; we too have squandered the love that is given to us; we too have misappropriated gifts given to us for the glory of God. But this is not the end of our lives, if and when we come to our senses about what is true and what is important. Like that prodigal son, when we return to the house of our father to reconcile and to accept any access of grace, we will discover an overwhelming, healing love that will transform us. This love, however, is not what we expect. Shouldn’t God punish the disobedient child? But that is the surprise of the parable, says John Paul; instead of deserved punishment, we are given membership in the household; the Lord dresses us with abundant love, with undeserved love. And we are changed!
The encyclical exhorts its readers to come to our senses about what is important, true and good, to return to the Lord, and to humbly accept his love which moves us through justice, beyond justice, to mercy. Not only is this our destiny, it is also our modus operandi, how we are to treat others. Mercy is the hallmark of the Christian community.
On the Second Sunday of Easter in 1980 Pope John Paul II canonized Faustina, a Polish nun, who had visions, and he established this particular Sunday in the Sanctoral cycle as Divine Mercy Sunday. Based on her writings, a portrait has been painted by Adolph Hyla of two rays pouring from the heart of Jesus. The sense of her divine chaplet is the beseeching of mercy on a fallen world. There is much to be said about the world’s ugly, sinful side. It may not be everyone’s spirituality, but it is a spirituality that has found favor among many Catholics. And surely, the need and hope for mercy is well founded.
Mercy is an important Christian virtue. Mercy is different from justice. While recognizing the angst of injury and the rationale for the justification of punishment, mercy takes a different tact on redressing the injury. Mercy strives to alter the condition and the soul of the perpetrator to resist doing evil, often by revealing love and one’s true beauty. If any punishment is enforced, it must be for salvation, not retribution. Oh, it is a messy business, this mercy. But it is the right kind of mess…one that leads to salvation rather than being discarded as trash or abandoned as a spiritual leper. No wonder, the mercy of the Lord Jesus is our hope. It can be hope as long as I am resolved to change. “Change our hearts this time…” (Rory Cooney, 1984).



