Have Mercy

“… bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you.”

This passage from Matthew enjoins followers of Jesus Christ to love not only our friends and families but also our enemies. What actions will follow from this love? In particular, if we love our enemies, must we show mercy on them? How do love and mercy differ?

The Oxford English dictionary devotes more than four pages to love (scant effort compared to the Bible, but perhaps the most extensive presence of any word in the OED). Perhaps the most impressive aspect of the definition is the derivation of the word from a Teutonic root that means “hope.”

Paul wrote to the church in Corinth, “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

How does love compare to mercy? The OED advises that mercy is forbearance or kindness extended to another who is in one’s power and who has no claim to receive kindness. In particular, it is forbearance where severity is to be expected.

Two points:
1. We need not love someone to whom we extend mercy.
2. We may not owe mercy to someone we love.

Point one is easy. Love is not an operating principle in the legal system, but judges are often merciful to meritless defendants (perhaps much too often). One may argue that excessive mercy harms the unpunished and their past and future victims, too.

Point two is harder. After all, we are told to love everyone. We are told that such love keeps no record of wrongs. And we are told that we are not to judge, for judging is the province of the Almighty. Does it not then follow that we should take no action against those who hurt us?

Is it a fallacy that mercy must follow love? Consider:

You love your child. Your child wants to dart into the street from between two parked cars. You stop your child and speak forcefully about the danger of taking such needless risks.

You love your child. Your child wants to eat cookies all afternoon, and takes some when you are not watching to eat after you have forbidden this. You tell your child that it is wrong to take something without permission and to disobey an instruction you gave. Eventually, you punish your child for these infractions.

You love your child. Your child uses narcotics. You know that narcotic use will lead to illness and premature death, and may endanger others. You intervene to get your child treatment. Eventually, you ask law enforcement officials to intervene.

You may say that you acted mercifully in each case. Perhaps you did not. Is mercy simply forbearance? Would it be mercy to let the child dart into the street, to let the child ignore your instructions and eat the cookies, or to let your child continue to use narcotics? Would it be kind? If mercy is forbearance to those who have no claim on your kindness, then you were not merciful as you were not forbearing. You were loving in what you did – preventing, remonstrating, correcting, punishing.

Now, let’s talk about mercy in our society.

Is it merciful to use government funds (taxes or fiat currency) to provide housing and food to those who do not provide for themselves? It is a form of forbearance for those who have no claim to kindness. Oh, a great many people say we are commanded to provide “for the least of these,” omitting “brothers of Mine.” On the basis of a giant leap from one’s individual duty to the Maker to a communal obligation exercised through the state, these people claim that those who expect a handout deserve it, and we must pay the government to provide it – or at least the minority of us who earn more than the exempted income will cede progressively more of our earnings to pay for this handout.

Set aside the blatant immorality of taxing one group at a different rate than another. How can it be the proper function of government to provide for the personal welfare of any person that did not enter into a contract with that government to provide a service of value to the government? You will look in vain in our Constitution for such Congressional power.

Suppose for a moment the power existed. How can it be kind to give money that was taxed or inflated from the general population to a “needy” person? How not? After all, they need shelter and sustenance. So do we all. They also need self-esteem that can only derive from accomplishment. They need relationships, and these cannot be one-sided. They need a pathway to improvement, not roadblocks. They need motivation, not disincentive. When has government provided self-esteem, relationships, a path to personal improvement, or motivation to individuals who receive housing, food stamps, unemployment compensation, or publicly funded health care? Never.

A caring society will know that “the least of these brothers of Mine” can only become healthy and accomplished when they are healed by love, guided by the Light, and cared for by other individuals. This healing, guidance, and individual care are the fruits of private charity, not public welfare.

Mercy, then, would be to dismantle the behemoth of state aid to individuals and free up the billions of dollars so misused for private charity. Mercy would stop interfering with the provision of health care so doctors, nurses, and institutions could provide charity care for those who cannot afford it. Mercy would stop inculcating the poor among us with a sense of dependence and godlessness through tax-supported schools dominated by unions that put teacher job tenure ahead of academic achievement.

That mercy would be the greatest outpouring of love our society could achieve in this century, and the merciful would benefit no more than the recipients of their mercy – that is to say bountifully.

“Peace I leave with you; My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”