In a Moment of Mercy

In a moment of mercy, a life can be changed. Let me share a story where I found this to be true.

After obtaining my associate's degree at a two-year college, I transferred to an elite, four-year school to complete my BA in English. The transition involved the usual stress that grips a 20-year-old coping with the loss of the child he once was and wondering about the adult he is about to become. There was a new campus in which to feel lost, exacting academic standards demanding achievement, and a social network to be developed from scratch.

The school had accepted an unusually large freshman class, and since freshmen and transfers were last on the housing totem, finding a place proved to be a daunting challenge.

Frat House Trouble
The college assigned me to a room in a frat house. I ended up in the Animal House of this prestigious institution. We'll call the fraternity AH for short.

The brothers at AH didn't take kindly to this outsider suddenly taking up a room in their house, and they did their best to make my life miserable.

One day after I returned from class, I found my room "TPd": The brothers had unrolled the contents of a mountain of toilet paper throughout my room. Moreover, they overturned my bookshelf. It took me all day to clean the mess. As I toiled, I could hear muffled laughter coming from the next room. I fumed but had enough sense to leave and go for a stroll around campus. I walked and pondered how I would respond.

Nailing My Note to the Door
My answer came to me. I would stand up to the bullying. I typed the following note and posted it on my door, nailing it there for effect, boldness I copped from Martin Luther.

NOTE TO THE BROTHER(S) WHO TRASHED MY ROOM: MEET ME TOMORROW BEHIND AH AND WE CAN SETTLE THIS.



Posting the note wasn't the smartest thing I have ever done, I realized that night. I imagined showing up and having 15 guys waiting for me.

The next day at the appointed time, I showed up in the small yard behind the fraternity house. Gone were the usual "empties" of cheap beer and fast-food wrappers. Obviously, the brothers were getting ready for a show. My heart sank as I saw all 15 brothers, standing there and grinning. The prudent thing would have been to leave, discretion being the best part of saving your own skin. Pride, however, an old ally, prevented me from running. I summoned courage, which is actually the ability to act when you're frightened to death.

Little Guy vs. Big Guy
Fortunately, I once had a roommate who was a Black Belt in Jeet kun do, a martial art that combined karate, conditioning, and spirituality. I'm a little guy. When I stand on a piece of paper, I may hit 5'4". I weigh 125 pounds. Michael, my roomie, taught me that a little guy could lick a big guy if he learned three principles:

1. Speed - Power is not a function of how big you are but how fast you are.
2. Balance - Maintain your balance and upset your opponent's balance.
3. Surprise - Use the element of surprise to your favor.



Michael's advice was the last thing on my mind. I became worried about walking away in one piece. I asked if they were going to gang up on me. Tom, the frat president, said no: one-on-one, "fair fight." He then selected a kid named Frank to square off with me. I gulped.

Frank was 6'1", on the football team, lifted weights, and was "cut," as they say of someone with a chiseled physique. I had been set up. Rather, I had set myself up.

The guys formed a large circle. We were given our instructions: Everything goes.

Trigger Points
The ringside audience began egging us on. I remember one other piece of advice from Michael: If you're overmatched, strike first. Heeding this, I moved in quickly, got my foot between Frank's two feet, and pushed him at the highest center of gravity I could reach - his chest. Frank went down to the ground. He had lost his balance. I had mine.
I moved in, caught the inside of his left knee with a kick, and as he tried to get up, rammed the underside of his nose with the palm of my hand. I could hear his nose break. The whole thing took about 20 seconds. As Frank lay stunned on the ground, his best friend, Jerry, sucker punched me from behind and roughed me up pretty good. By the time he was done, I had a cut over my left eye, a shiner under my right eye, and a million bruises.

Standing Tall Before the Man
Word of the incident got back to the Dean of Students. Dean Leonard didn't know exactly what happened, only that there had been an "incident" at AH. He called me into his office. He asked me why I looked like Rocky Balboa after his fight with Apollo Creed.

I had heard through a friend that Jerry, the guy who jumped me, had been on probation. Another black mark, and he would have been expelled. I wanted revenge. I would have been justified in telling the truth. I wouldn't hear about Divine Mercy for another couple decades, but I didn't want to snitch. Stand-up guys just didn't do that.

I lied.

I concocted an implausible story about hitting the edge of a door and falling down stairs. Dean Leonard didn't buy it for a second, but having no other person to testify, he let the matter drop.

Once Upon a Homecoming Evening
Fast-forward more than 30 years. I'm attending Homecoming Weekend at the school. At the president's Reception Dinner, during cocktail hour, I see Jerry. Unbelievable. My heart starts to race. We lock eyes. I can't believe it.

Jerry walks over to me, drink in hand. What is he going to do?

He sticks out his hand for a handshake.

He tells me that because I didn't rat on him, he was able to stay in school. He got his degree in business administration, and was now on the tail end of a career as a successful account executive for an advertising agency. He said if he had been kicked out of school, his parents would have disowned him and his life would have turned out differently.

Jerry thanked me and asked why I hadn't spilled the beans.

"For mercy," I replied, though that was a retrofit answer. I acted as I did because I just wanted the situation over. We finished our drink together then went our separate ways.

Later that night, I thought about his question. Why did I cut him major slack?

I like to think it was a flicker of God's mercy, compelling me to act in a counterintuitive way. My head wanted revenge, but I listened to my heart. I couldn't pull the trigger on that guy. It was a small thing, but it made all the difference.

Dan Valenti writes for numerous publications of the Marians of the Immaculate Conception, both in print and online. He is the author of Dan Valenti's journal at thedivinemercy.org.

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