God, be merciful to me, a sinner!
Jesus is telling a parable to his disciples about the two men praying in the temple. The wealthy, righteous man is praying upright, recounting all he’s done. As if that’s not bad enough, he concludes his litany with saying he’s so glad that he’s not like sinners, thieves, adulterers, or even like that tax collector in the corner. The tax collector was not in the ‘appropriate’ praying position, probably extorted money as was routine with his profession, and was hiding in the back, beating his breast, with the simple prayer, God be merciful to me, a sinner. Jesus surprises his listeners by announcing that it’s the simple sinner who will return justified, because those who exalt themselves will be humbled and the humble will be exalted.
That simple prayer from the sinner in the corner has turned in to a deep prayer device, known as the Jesus Prayer. It’s prayed in simple repetition, like a mantra, or chant. There are different versions, and when I pray it, I’ve found that I like a version that works paired up with one inhale and one exhale. Inhale - Jesus Christ have mercy on me, Exhale – a sinner.
The idea of taking comfort from calling myself a sinner is foreign to this shiny happy culture. I’m not suggesting that I run around and feel bad about every sinful and bad thing I’ve done, all day. But if I hold myself up to what Jesus expects us to do – Love God, Love neighbor, there are plenty of times I’ve fallen short in big and small ways. Praying the Jesus Prayer helps me not forget that 1) I need to be humble in the sight of what I’m truly expected to do, rather than proud or having a sense of righteousness, 2) God has infinite mercy and love, and 3) God’s mercy and love strike me as so much more glorious, if I’ve spent any time thinking about where I’ve fallen short. Even then, God loves and there’s mercy.
As the first day of Lent, Ash Wednesday is full of this language. But even after long penitential prayers, we receive the Eucharist, which we believe is God’s unbounded love and mercy made real. It’s just that for the next 40 days, we are intentional about the distance between me and my actions and God’s.
Yesterday, we picked up our sick loved one from an extended stay in the hospital. Our home is going to be different, with an extra, fragile person. They want desperately to be independent, as all young adults do. They have very limited awareness of the extent of their illness, so long term medicine compliance is dicey. They have a great fondness for the regular minor substances that young adults love, but are not especially helpful for their illness.
And as opposed to the previous stays in our home, I’m feeling more at peace with this start. Since my husband and I are out of the house all day, and they get some disability money, I cannot possibly eliminate risk, or manage behavior. I’m much more at peace, understanding that my job is to house, love and where allowed, mentor another adult in this house. Their choices would not be my choices, but their story and experience is not mine either, so they are the best captain of their ship. Or at least I know I’m not.
For this first day of Lent, I understand that I’ve made mistakes helping my loved one navigate an adult life. One of my Lenten practices will be to remember daily that they are an adult. We are here to love and support. And to do as much as we can to help them navigate, not to serve as their always-on GPS.
This morning, I’m thinking about the God’s boundless love and mercy, regardless of the big and small dumb things I do. I’m imagining ways to pay that forward to my loved one.
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