At the start of this century, Pope John Paul II named this day Divine Mercy Sunday at the urging of St. Faustina, a Polish nun and visionary who kept a diary during her short lifetime, which recounted hundreds of revelations about God’s mercy. She knew what it felt like to be away from God and how it felt to be close to God. At one point Jesus told her, “I will pour out a whole ocean of graces upon those souls who approach the fount of my mercy. Let no one fear to draw near to me, even though their sins be as scarlet.”
So what is mercy? The gospel gives us a clue when Jesus speaks of forgiveness; as C.S. Lewis notes, “the essential act of mercy was to pardon; and pardon in its very essence involves the recognition of guilt in the recipient.” Jesus gave the apostles the gift of forgiving sins to make us always mindful of God’s infinite mercy toward us.
Years ago, when I was a deacon, two grayed haired men warmly greeted each other in Tokyo’s International airport. Both men had tears in their eyes. One was an American; his name was Ponich. The other was Japanese; his name was Isibashi. The last time they had seen each other was in the closing days of WWII in a cave in Okinawa. At that time, the American, Sgt. Ponich, was holding a five-year old boy in his arms. The child had been shot through both legs. Isibashi was one of two Japanese snipers hiding in a dark corner of the same cave.
Suddenly Isibashi leaped from his hiding place, aimed his rifle at Ponich and prepared to fire point blank. There wasn’t a thing Ponich could do, so he simply put the boy on the ground, took out his canteen and began to wash the boy’s wounds. If he had to die, he thought, what better way to die than performing an act of mercy. The snipers watched in awe. Then slowly Isibashi lowered his rifle. Minutes later, Ponich did something that Isibashi never forgot. He took the boy in his arms, stood up, bowed in gratitude to the two Japanese soldiers and took him to the nearby field hospital.
How did they meet forty years later? In 1985 Ponich wrote a letter to a Tokyo newspaper, thanking the Japanese people for their two soldiers who had spared his life that afternoon in a dark cave in Okinawa. Isibashi read the article and contacted the newspaper, which set up their meeting that was long and affectionate.
Things could have turned out differently. The snipers could have shot Ponich. Or he could have kept his silence, but neither happened. They experienced mercy. And mercy is what we celebrate today. Divine mercy radiates throughout the gospel story.
In the gospel, our attention is drawn to Thomas, who understandably did not believe the news that Jesus had risen, but lets not overlook what Jesus told them in this appearance, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you. Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” His words are the biblical basis for our sacrament of reconciliation. Sadly, some of us ignore this advice, thus passing up the chance to truly experience God’s infinite mercy.
Jesus stood in their midst a week later and once again said, “Peace be with you.” That is something we continually yearn for and God knows it. The gospel speaks eloquently of God’s mercy for us sinners. Mercy offers us a culture of life.
By contrast, the past century could be described as a culture of death. From the holocaust of Nazi Germany to the recent bombing of churches in Sri Lanka, from the fears generated by racial prejudice to mass shootings across our country, we have many stark reminders that sin impacts our lives.
The dictionary defines mercy as “compassionate treatment toward those in distress.” It’s the kind of compassionate treatment Ponich showed to the wounded boy. It’s the kind of compassionate treatment the Japanese snipers showed to Ponich. The word compassion derives from the Latin word meaning to “feel with.” If you want to understand another person, you must crawl inside and walk around with them; to see through their eyes, and to feel with their feelings, which is what God endeavors to do with us.
Literally, Jesus came down to earth, climbed into our skin, and walked around in our shoes. Having experienced the full gamut of our human emotions, he now seeks to forgive us.
Keep in mind that no sin is beyond forgiveness. The beauty of God’s mercy is shown in the complete forgiveness of punishment; now, isn’t that awesome? In no uncertain terms, Jesus offers us a choice: his mercy or his just judgment for the reparation of our sins. Common sense suggests that we opt for his mercy. However, mercy is more than just a mood. Mercy is a way of life to gain peace that comes from loving God and one another. Jesus comes to extend his mercy, the same mercy we witness him giving to the apostles but in turn he demands that we do the same.
Opportunities abound for us, especially within our families, to show mercy to one another. God’s grace comes to those who have the courage to apologize and to those who extend forgiveness. Every act of forgiveness is a battle against evil. Vengeance, on the other hand, amplifies the power of evil, inspiring even more hatred. If we strive to be merciful like the Father, then we can count on God being merciful to us.