“There’s a wideness in God’s mercy like the wideness of the sea;
there’s a kindness in his justice, which is more than liberty.
There is welcome for the sinner, and more graces for the good;
there is mercy with the Savior; there is healing in his blood.”
– #469/470, Hymnal 1982, Frederick William Faber
Dear People of St. David’s,
I am currently re-reading the “Three Pines” series by mystery writer, Louise Penny. A new installment was published last October. I went to an event to meet the author and got a signed copy of “The Grey Wolf,” but I still haven’t read it, because I am re-reading the 18 previous installments, so that I won’t miss any important details in the new one. The series features a francophone detective in Québec. The action takes place in French, but the books are written in English (which is good, because French and I fell out over the le sobjonctif 50 years ago). To remind her readers that most of the characters are speaking French in a culture that is half French, half English, Penny has them use common French words: oui, désolé, merci [yes, sorry, thanks].
The other night, I was reading along, and a character said, “merci,” and in my sleepy head I heard, “mercy.” It may have been the first time that I ever noticed that but for the ending vowels, the two words are THE SAME. But, to say thank you is not the same thing as to beg for grace. Beware the pondering that can come from the habit of re-reading. This sent me to the internet to look up the origins of the words, and indeed, merci and mercy come from Latin: merces, merced-; reward.
Reward, grace, thanks. We live in a world that is begging for mercy. There are children who will go to bed hungry tonight. There are people who have nowhere to lay their heads—because wildfires have burned down their homes, or because they cannot afford to rent or buy in the first place. There are folx who are not understood by their families or friends or the culture in which they live. Sometimes it just makes for awkward conversation, but sometimes the effect is deadly. I pray, Lord, have mercy. At church, we pray together, Lord have mercy on us.
The hymnwriter Frederick William Faber reminds us there is a wideness in God’s mercy. (The Hymnal 1982 #469,470). While I was looking for a link to the hymn, I found many that were posted during the recent pandemic (see a favorite below), when virtual choirs came together by singing individually, sending voice messages to musicians graced with talent and skills, who created layered tracks that we listened to on Sunday mornings when we could not gather and sing in the same room. How thankful I was to sing in one of those choirs, and how grateful I was to the music director of the church I was serving in those days. Merci, writer Faber, and composer Calvin Hampton, and music director Scott Bailey. Merci, dear God, for the small mercy that helped make the pandemic protocols bearable.
A tradition in the church is to name the seven acts of mercy: to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome strangers, clothe the naked, care for the sick, visit the prisoners, and bury the dead. Or, as the young theologians in the Family Service shout, when asked about Jesus: He fed people! He healed people! He talked to lonely people! He was a helper! I think: reward, grace, thanks. Jesus rewarded us with the presence and power of God. Whether we deserve it or not, Jesus is merciful to us. Merci, O Lord.
Faithfully,
Nancy+
The Rev. Nancy Webb Stroud
Priest Associate
YouTube video from St. Bart’s, New York, August 13, 2020.
Published on January 30, 2025