Lord, Have Mercy

Gerry and I are watching the second season of Alone Australia. We’re binge watching, staying up later than usual as our granddaughter is at the local weekend youth centre and we (read: Gerry) are tasked with picking her up when it’s time for her to come home. I pause the episode when Gerry gets a call and takes his phone to his den to have a conversation and pick up my phone to check messages in case Makiya has texted. While I’m there, I see news from south of the border.

A shooting has taken place. An assassination attempt. Later, it will become apparent to me that the word—assassination—is being shied away from in the media and by many ordinary folks as well. Call it what you will. Shots were fired with the intent of ending someone’s life.

Right away, I see comments on social media about the event that sickens me. I won’t repeat them here. I’ve already climbed a couple of steps up onto my high horse before I realize that my judgement is, in effect, of the same ilk as the sentiments that grieved me just moments ago. I am no different from keyboard warriors who seemingly celebrating the event. I am no different that the individual, whoever he or she was (we don’t yet know identity), who fired the shots.

My heart is deceitful. Desperately wicked.

Gerry returns to the living room repeating the news that I just learned, and that his friend told him on the phone. Then, we return to Alone Australia. Just like that. What is wrong with us? What is wrong with me? It doesn’t occur to me that it might be a good time to pray. Instead, I sit with a lump in the pit of my stomach, sickened by the event itself, the vitriol playing itself out online, and by the realization that the same kind of darkness lives inside of me.

In moments like this, I realize how much I need the kind of unmerited grace that’s been poured out by the God who loves me. Sometimes, I forget. On this night, I am undone. Sickened. Saddened. Caught in the glaring light of truth.

In the morning, I pray the Shema. Hear O’ Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. This is the first and greatest commandment. The second is this. You shall love your neighbour as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these. Have mercy on us, Lord, and write these words on my heart. On my heart.

Note: Don’t read anything into this that isn’t there. This is not a political post. It a comment on the state of my soul, a personal plea for continued grace, and a renewed intention to love as I ought to.

Prayer of St Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.