My last journal entry about the lonely woman in South Dakota prompted an avalanche of response from all over the country - Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Ohio, South Dakota, and elsewhere. As all landslides do, the avalanche had a momentum of its own that I had to let flow until it stopped of its own accord to a trickle. That's why the particular entry, "To Lonely in South Dakota," had been posted as the lead story of this journal for longer than usual.
Mercy, Literally at Hand
Seen in their totality, the many comments began to take on a life of their own, prompting in me a reaction that in them, I was seeing precisely the phenomenon many of the responders were writing about: the need for mercy in action.
Kathleen, for example, wrote on Sept. 4, "Perhaps we should all take the opportunity to look around and see the lonely around us and bring God's mercy to them via word, deed, or apple cobbler. Whether it's next door or in the next cubicle, someone is waiting for you to be the difference in their lives."
Thank you, Kathleen. You have boiled away the fat that sometimes encases lofty spiritual concepts and brought the discussion down to the delightfully human perspective of baking apple cobblers and popping in on the person sitting next door. That's where the opportunities for mercy exist in their most plentiful form - in action. The opportunity for mercy is always in the next action you take, the next prayer you say, the next thought you think, a homily masquerading as apple cobbler.
The chance to be merciful exists literally within your grasp. It's in the kid who mows your lawn, the person standing in front of you at the post office, the cashier who takes your money at the supermarket, the cat that needs a brushing, the dog who has been injured, the guy who gives you change in the convenience store, and the co-worker who drives you nuts.
Prayerful Interchange
Prayer is a director of action. Nothing happens - no conscious behavior, certainly - without the thought that first goes into it. Many of the people who responded to "Lonely's" cry for help said they prayed for her. Within the realm and attitude of mercy, that is as much needed as direct action. Merciful prayer takes us out of ourselves. It is an interchange between portions of the soul, the mind, the will, and the body.
When one prays a heartfelt, merciful prayer, that person in effect exhausts an element of his or her own sinfulness. Reaching out to others in compassion through prayer and deed produces gale-force gusts of goodness that overtake sin, selfishness, cruelty, and most all other forms of self-destructive behavior. In that sense, mercy heals twice ("twice blessed," in Shakespeare's great phrase) - it blesses the person who receives it but also the one who gives it.
Valenti Goofs
Another reaction jumped out at me, from "Faithfilled Mom," who wrote:
I can't help but ask you ... WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG to come to this woman's rescue? If you ask us NOW to pray for her, and we will, a year after her reaching out for help, wasn't there something you could have done then? ... Of course, God's will in all, and I'm sure we have all put things aside. I won't do that anymore. I'll start a novena right away for someone I hear of in trouble, including this lonely woman.
Thanks, Mom. I found your honesty refreshing. I stand guilty as charged.
Faithfilled Mom is correct. After taking the phone call that day from South Dakota and making quick notes, I put the matter away and - as way leads to way and one thing becomes the next - forgot about it. God, however, knows best. He is the master timer. That I later discovered my notes, without looking for them, amid the mountain of paper and source material a writer builds up in file cabinets and folders, I attribute to God moving in His time.
No question, though: I goofed by not jumping on this right away. I became so interested in myself that I let the woman's pain fade from my attention. Because I trust, however, I am not concerned about that failure. God works with everything, as he did with my story of "To Lonely in South Dakota."
Be merciful and trust. The rest is commentary. Be merciful and trust, then do as you please, for as St. Augustine said many years ago, "Love God and do what you will," for true and pure love will never allow for an offense against the Beloved One, the God of mercy, who awaits our trust.
Dan Valenti writes for numerous publications for the Marians of the Immaculate Conception, both in print and online. He is the author of "Dan Valenti's Journal" for this website.
