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| 20 Pentecost October 22, 2006 The Rev. Robert C. Granfeldt |
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There’s a word that I have trouble with. A word nobody else seems to mind – but,
then, that’s not unusual. I fairly often have a slightly different take on words and their
meanings than others.
This word is in the Collect for the day, in the petition phrase.
As you know, every Sunday we have what we call propers, which is a set of a set of
lessons, and a Collect – a themed prayer that is intended to match up with the
lessons – which is something we don’t often pay much attention to, I’m afraid.
Collects are a classic form of short prayer with a three-part structure of invocation,
petition, and a pleading of Christ’s name or an ascription of glory to God. Very simple.
The word I have trouble with is in the petition part of today’s Collect.
We prayed the Almighty God who has revealed his glory to the world, to “preserve
the works of (his) mercy,” so that the world may remain firm in the faith.
It was from that prayer that this one word popped out at me as I was thinking about
today’s sermon!
It’s the word, “mercy!
Mercy. A simple word, really, that comes down to us from the Middle English, which
earlier form came from the Old French, and that from the Medieval Latin, and that
form from a Latin word meaning, Reward.
Mercy is a common word – common, even in Collects. In fact it was in the Collect for
Proper 21, and comes up, next, I believe, in proper 29!
But in this case, it just popped out at me and reminded me that I don’t much like the
word; I have a problem with it that I want to share with you, and I’m going to ask your
forbearance as I do that. You see, I’ve been wrestling with this word for many, many
years, and I haven’t yet come to any way really to describe what my problem is. Today
I’m going to try.
Actually, there’s nothing wrong with the word, mercy, itself. It just means
compassionate treatment, especially. And it also bears the meaning of a disposition
to be kind and forgiving.
No. The problem is not with the dictionary definitions of the word, itself, but with it’s
connotations in the faith!
Check me if I’m wrong, but when we speak about God having mercy, is there not in
our mind a certain feeling about our relationship with God? A feeling that if we need
to ask God for his mercy God might withhold it, and vent his displeasure on us? That
unless he “has mercy on us,” we won’t make it?
And in the season of Lent, when we fall on our knees and pray to God, “Have mercy
on me, a sinner,” is it not with a feeling that if God doesn’t take the positive action of
having mercy, the natural consequence of our condition and of our sin, and of God’s
anger is death?
And if you can relate, at all, to any of this, what does that say about the faith?
I first began to think about these questions over twenty years ago when we went to
the island of Tortola, in the British Virgin Islands, to be Rector of St. George’s Parish.
It was in many ways a wonderful place. And in many ways it was a disheartening place,
especially in religion.
We hadn’t been there long when I heard for the first time something that has
weighed on my mind ever since.
It was mostly women who said it – no surprise, since in Tortola as in the rest of the
world, most women take their religion more seriously than did most men.
It was that each time I would end a conversation with a local woman, and some men,
by saying something like, “I’ll see you tomorrow (or on Tuesday, or next week),” the
reply was always the same: “If God spare me”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, if God spares me.”
“I’ll see you on Tuesday if God spares.”
“I’ll see you next week if God spares me.”
The first time I heard that, I wasn’t sure what I’d heard.
The second time I heard it I thought it was awfully strange.
The third time I heard it I was horrified.
It was that third time I realized what the saying meant – and worse, that the people
who said it, meant it – and worse, yet, what it said about God!
What it said about God was that he holds me – holds my life – in his hand. And it said
that I would surely die this night…, unless!,…unless God should decide to save my
life – decide, indeed, to spare me from certain death, this night.
It said he would let me die before Tuesday – unless he decides to spare me; let me
die before next week, unless he acts to spare my life!
What it said was that God was a tyrant! What it said was God was to be feared! It said
God has to be placated, that he has to be appeased,
It said that if I’m not careful, he’ll let me die. And worse, he’ll let me burn!
It said that if God decides to withhold his mercy, I shall surely die!
It said that God’s intention and his will is assumed to be that I will die, unless God
decides to spare me!
Mercy: compassionate treatment, especially of those under one’s power; a
disposition to be kind and forgiving.
If God is merciful, if God has a disposition to be kind and forgiving, if he is one who
treats with compassion those who are under his power, then why do we have to ask
him to be merciful; to have mercy on us; to spare us. Why do we have constantly to
plead with him, in his MERCY, to hear our prayer?
Mercy is a word I can live with, certainly. I don’t have to like the word to use it – and
most of the time I have no problem putting away all these weird thoughts, and letting
mercy be “just a word.”
But I can’t put away that picture of God, and I can’t live with a god who is a tyrant, a
god who demands to be begged for life.
There is some justification for teaching such a god in the Old Testament, certainly,
where, especially in it’s earliest parts, we find a god who drowns the world in the
floodwaters for their failure to honor him, or sends whole cities up in flames for
mistreating his friends. By the time of the prophets that kind of image had begun to
ease, a bit, and the notion of the merciful god had crept into the people’s picture of
God, and with hints of something even more than just mercy.
But when Jesus of Nazareth came, he brought those “hints” into a new, clear focus, a
more complete understanding, amounting to a whole new picture. He brought to the
world the picture of the God who loves his people with a love so passionate that he
sent his only Son to share in their suffering, and to bring their suffering back to Him.
Jesus brought to us, his people, the picture, in himself, of the God of love – the God
who IS love. The God who gladly lifts the suffering of his people from any who let him,
lifts it and takes it into himself as he did the suffering of his Son. Not in special acts
of mercy, not in his choice of “sparing” us – but in his nature as the God of love, the
God who Is love, the God who is, in his very nature, Love, itself!
The God who doesn’t need to be begged to spare his children, because his will for
them is to dwell in his love, forever. The God, Jesus taught us, that we no longer
needed to fear!
I will use the word “mercy,” in reading the prayers, when the occasion calls. But In my
mind and my heart, I will be thinking of the God who is love. And when I read the
prayers that say, “Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer,” I’ll be hearing, in my own
head: “Dear God, in your love for your people, hear our prayer.”
In Jesus Christ’s Name. Amen.
then, that’s not unusual. I fairly often have a slightly different take on words and their
meanings than others.
This word is in the Collect for the day, in the petition phrase.
As you know, every Sunday we have what we call propers, which is a set of a set of
lessons, and a Collect – a themed prayer that is intended to match up with the
lessons – which is something we don’t often pay much attention to, I’m afraid.
Collects are a classic form of short prayer with a three-part structure of invocation,
petition, and a pleading of Christ’s name or an ascription of glory to God. Very simple.
The word I have trouble with is in the petition part of today’s Collect.
We prayed the Almighty God who has revealed his glory to the world, to “preserve
the works of (his) mercy,” so that the world may remain firm in the faith.
It was from that prayer that this one word popped out at me as I was thinking about
today’s sermon!
It’s the word, “mercy!
Mercy. A simple word, really, that comes down to us from the Middle English, which
earlier form came from the Old French, and that from the Medieval Latin, and that
form from a Latin word meaning, Reward.
Mercy is a common word – common, even in Collects. In fact it was in the Collect for
Proper 21, and comes up, next, I believe, in proper 29!
But in this case, it just popped out at me and reminded me that I don’t much like the
word; I have a problem with it that I want to share with you, and I’m going to ask your
forbearance as I do that. You see, I’ve been wrestling with this word for many, many
years, and I haven’t yet come to any way really to describe what my problem is. Today
I’m going to try.
Actually, there’s nothing wrong with the word, mercy, itself. It just means
compassionate treatment, especially. And it also bears the meaning of a disposition
to be kind and forgiving.
No. The problem is not with the dictionary definitions of the word, itself, but with it’s
connotations in the faith!
Check me if I’m wrong, but when we speak about God having mercy, is there not in
our mind a certain feeling about our relationship with God? A feeling that if we need
to ask God for his mercy God might withhold it, and vent his displeasure on us? That
unless he “has mercy on us,” we won’t make it?
And in the season of Lent, when we fall on our knees and pray to God, “Have mercy
on me, a sinner,” is it not with a feeling that if God doesn’t take the positive action of
having mercy, the natural consequence of our condition and of our sin, and of God’s
anger is death?
And if you can relate, at all, to any of this, what does that say about the faith?
I first began to think about these questions over twenty years ago when we went to
the island of Tortola, in the British Virgin Islands, to be Rector of St. George’s Parish.
It was in many ways a wonderful place. And in many ways it was a disheartening place,
especially in religion.
We hadn’t been there long when I heard for the first time something that has
weighed on my mind ever since.
It was mostly women who said it – no surprise, since in Tortola as in the rest of the
world, most women take their religion more seriously than did most men.
It was that each time I would end a conversation with a local woman, and some men,
by saying something like, “I’ll see you tomorrow (or on Tuesday, or next week),” the
reply was always the same: “If God spare me”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, if God spares me.”
“I’ll see you on Tuesday if God spares.”
“I’ll see you next week if God spares me.”
The first time I heard that, I wasn’t sure what I’d heard.
The second time I heard it I thought it was awfully strange.
The third time I heard it I was horrified.
It was that third time I realized what the saying meant – and worse, that the people
who said it, meant it – and worse, yet, what it said about God!
What it said about God was that he holds me – holds my life – in his hand. And it said
that I would surely die this night…, unless!,…unless God should decide to save my
life – decide, indeed, to spare me from certain death, this night.
It said he would let me die before Tuesday – unless he decides to spare me; let me
die before next week, unless he acts to spare my life!
What it said was that God was a tyrant! What it said was God was to be feared! It said
God has to be placated, that he has to be appeased,
It said that if I’m not careful, he’ll let me die. And worse, he’ll let me burn!
It said that if God decides to withhold his mercy, I shall surely die!
It said that God’s intention and his will is assumed to be that I will die, unless God
decides to spare me!
Mercy: compassionate treatment, especially of those under one’s power; a
disposition to be kind and forgiving.
If God is merciful, if God has a disposition to be kind and forgiving, if he is one who
treats with compassion those who are under his power, then why do we have to ask
him to be merciful; to have mercy on us; to spare us. Why do we have constantly to
plead with him, in his MERCY, to hear our prayer?
Mercy is a word I can live with, certainly. I don’t have to like the word to use it – and
most of the time I have no problem putting away all these weird thoughts, and letting
mercy be “just a word.”
But I can’t put away that picture of God, and I can’t live with a god who is a tyrant, a
god who demands to be begged for life.
There is some justification for teaching such a god in the Old Testament, certainly,
where, especially in it’s earliest parts, we find a god who drowns the world in the
floodwaters for their failure to honor him, or sends whole cities up in flames for
mistreating his friends. By the time of the prophets that kind of image had begun to
ease, a bit, and the notion of the merciful god had crept into the people’s picture of
God, and with hints of something even more than just mercy.
But when Jesus of Nazareth came, he brought those “hints” into a new, clear focus, a
more complete understanding, amounting to a whole new picture. He brought to the
world the picture of the God who loves his people with a love so passionate that he
sent his only Son to share in their suffering, and to bring their suffering back to Him.
Jesus brought to us, his people, the picture, in himself, of the God of love – the God
who IS love. The God who gladly lifts the suffering of his people from any who let him,
lifts it and takes it into himself as he did the suffering of his Son. Not in special acts
of mercy, not in his choice of “sparing” us – but in his nature as the God of love, the
God who Is love, the God who is, in his very nature, Love, itself!
The God who doesn’t need to be begged to spare his children, because his will for
them is to dwell in his love, forever. The God, Jesus taught us, that we no longer
needed to fear!
I will use the word “mercy,” in reading the prayers, when the occasion calls. But In my
mind and my heart, I will be thinking of the God who is love. And when I read the
prayers that say, “Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer,” I’ll be hearing, in my own
head: “Dear God, in your love for your people, hear our prayer.”
In Jesus Christ’s Name. Amen.
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| Calvary Episcopal Church, Rockdale |
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| Calvary Episcopal Church, Rockdale |
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