Acts of Mercy in Relationships

Blessed Teresa of Calcutta of our modern day epitomizes the acts of mercy.
Photo from http://mydrizzle.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/MotherTeresa2.jpg. 

As a young Catholic, I recall having to memorize the corporal and spiritual acts of mercy. The corporal acts, being bodily in nature, were quite easy to practice. Learning from the examples shown by my parents, I did not have a hard time holding on to material possessions and showing charity at a corporal level---that is, for the most part.

The corporal acts seem quite simplistic:

1. Feed the hungry.
2. Give drink to the thirsty.
3. Clothe the naked.
4. Shelter the homeless.
5. Visit those in prison.
6. Comfort the sick.
7. Bury the dead.

I'd like to think that I have been a good follower of Christ through showing those acts of kindness even in times when my commitment to a relationship  -- whether platonic, romantic and without a question, on the parental level -- is being tested.

To some, however, this is not the case. It is easy to give when our hearts are whole but not when our hearts are either broken or hardened by disappointments and resentments. Being treated unmercifully by those whose welfare I have put ahead of my needs to the point that I have borne their own burdens and excess baggage as if they were my own have torn my heart into pieces. I have expressed hunger and thirst---only to be replied to with disdain and cold indifference. I have been sick -- very sick in mind, body and spirit -- only to be ignored and made to beg. It could be extremely violent in its passivity, much hurtful than feeling a fist land on my face. It is like being shot by a muffled gun while others watched for entertainment. Figuratively, I had to bear the cruelty of words and inappropriate humor being hurled against me as I fell on my knees. Alone.

Hurtful as they were, I still would not ask God to reverse such experiences. Never have I looked upon a beggar on the street asking for alms with the same compassion as I do now because of what I have gone through. (Imagine how it must feel like for innocent kids with grumbling stomachs to knock on the windows of hundreds of cars under the heat of the sun or the cold of the rain for a meaningless peso.) It is not true after all that cruelty begets cruelty; in some mysterious ways, experiencing selfishness can lead to greater charity.

As I grow in the realm of my body, I realize that I have to take on a much harder challenge as I seek to grow in spirit. The spiritual acts of mercy when viewed as a child seems just as easy as the corporal acts:

1. Share knowledge.
2. Give advice to those who need it.
3. Comfort the suffering.
4. Be patient with others.
5. Forgive those who hurt you.
6. Give correction to those who need it.
7. Pray for the living and the dead.

My own body with its temporal needs has often betrayed my spirit and its capacity to show mercy through the spiritual acts. At the times when they seem easy to practice, it is usually because of the following reasons: it wasn't too hurtful to begin with; it doesn't involve a person I care about very much; and I may have been doing it at a very superficial level. The same must hold true for those who fail to be charitable in spirit. Perhaps the secret is for me to have the heart of a child: innocent, simple and free.

Taking this refresher on the acts of mercy is a good reminder of the duplicity of my human existence---that I exist both in body and in spirit. Each can constrain the other from opening itself to enable generosity to flow to a co-being. Learning from the Buddhist tradition, however, should prevent us from taking this duplicity as a basis for conflict; instead, it should present us the opportunity to be creative in finding ways to harmonize the needs and the capacities of the corporal and the spiritual. After all, this is a truth in our reality as creatures of God. This is a truth in the context of Christ's presence on earth: He is both human and divine, existing in body and in spirit.

In closing, allow me to juxtapose today's reflection with some relevant lines from a book which I am currently re-reading, "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" by Milan Kundera --

"... The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.

Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into the heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant."

A blessed Sunday to all!