Mercy and Grace

(Today's celebrity guest writer is Trinity parishioner Loraine Johnson. She recently completed a yearlong residency as a chaplain at St. Luke's Hospital in Fountain Hill.) 

Reflection upon Matthew 21: 1 - 11

Writing has to germinate deep within when I am focusing on a topic meaningful to me. I awoke about the hour of Vigils with an idea for the theme of the week and Palm Sunday. When I was working my way through the Ignatian Exercises, I prayed and reflected upon the passage above. I was drawn to the voice and character of the donkey. I had to choose whether I would speak as the donkey or the colt. I selected the colt and left the donkey behind. This is how it unfolded:

Young Donkey Colt:  Two men I have never seen before are here, asking for me. They tell my master I am needed for a very special task. Don't they know I have never carried a man? I am not ready for this. Why don't they ask my mother standing right here? They are saying the Lord has need of me, and my master knows exactly what that means and seems glad. They promise to bring me back as soon as I have completed my task. I'm feeling skitterish about this.

They untie me and lead me to a young man they call Jesus. When he looks at me and places a hand gently on my back, I feel something strange. I feel I know this person and that I can trust him. I am not afraid. As he eases himself onto my back, I feel the lightness of him. How can he be so light? I also feel an energy pass from him to me. I can understand his commands if I just pay attention to him.

We enter the crowd that waits a short distance away. As we move slowly forward, they part for us to pass through like a great sea of waving green and colored cloaks thrown down at our feet. I lift my feet a little higher, stepping carefully, listening intently for the orders of my gentle rider. His hand never leaves my back as he calms me despite the noise and chaos all around me. We move forward slowly toward the big city ahead. I've never been there, but we are heading directly into this strange place. I am not afraid. I have my Lord to carry. Little me.

This happy event stands in sharp contrast to the shadow of the cross directly ahead. In fact, we wave palms and sing today before weaving them into crosses or tucking them behind icons at home to await the next cycle of Lent. As we read the Passion Play, I am shocked to hear my own voice saying, "Crucify him!"

"No!" I want to say. "I could never do that." But if I were honest with myself, I would admit I have crucified Jesus in many ways through my sins against myself and others. Sr. Joan Chittister says, "Every one of us is capable of every sinful thing. Most of us have simply not had the opportunity or the anger or the sense of desolation it takes to do it. While we're being grateful for that, it behooves us to be merciful to those that have."

Recently, I acted with poor judgment when I was working in a retirement home. I had a difficult time accepting my fallibility. I told my story to several trusted listeners and received some relief. Yet it haunted me. I knew the only way to be relieved of this was in total surrender. I prayed, "God, if it is your will, remove from me this need to be perfect."

I finally felt peace. By the mercy of God, I received this through no merit of my own. Pure love.

In addition to this, I had two coworkers share stories with me that showed their own vulnerabilities. This was a gift above and beyond what I deserved. A grace. Whenever I receive a gift such as this, I record it. I enter the date and event and take it into prayer for several days to see what might be the invitation. I cannot receive such gifts without responding to the challenge to stretch myself to love and show mercy to all.

Chittister quote from God's tender mercy: Reflections on Forgiveness.