From Mirror to Mercy In my last reflection, I spoke about community as a kind of hall of mirrors—how, in others, we often see reflections of parts of ourselves. That can be unsettling. But it raises an important question: what do we do with what we see? It is one thing to catch a glimpse of ourselves in another person. It is another thing to accept it, and still another to allow it to change us. Without that next step, self-knowledge can remain sterile; it can even become discouraging. Seeing our faults is not the same as being freed from them. If community reveals us to ourselves, then its deeper purpose is to lead us toward mercy—first toward ourselves, and then toward others. Once I recognize in myself what I struggle to accept in another, something begins to soften. The sharp edge of judgment can begin to give way to understanding. Yet this does not happen automatically. We can just as easily turn that awareness into self-condemnation, or go on judging others while quietly excusing ourselves. So there is a real choice here. Before we can truly give mercy, we must learn how to receive it. This is not always easy. Many of us find it easier to forgive others than to forgive ourselves. Or we carry a quiet disappointment in who we are. But if we cannot accept God’s mercy for ourselves, it becomes very difficult to extend it to others in any lasting way. In the end, we tend to give what we believe we have received. God is patient with us—very patient. He does not force instant transformation. He works slowly and often quietly, sometimes beneath our awareness. If this is how God deals with us, then perhaps this is how we are called to deal with one another. In community life, we often want change to happen more quickly, especially in others. We see what is lacking, what could be better, but we do not always see the hidden work of grace already at work. To love someone, then, is not only to see clearly, but also to allow space—space for growth, for struggle, for grace to unfold. When we “box” people in, we close off that space. We decide who they are and who they will be. But that belongs to God. So the hall of mirrors remains. But perhaps we begin to stand in it with a different spirit—less fear, less defensiveness, and more humility. What we see in others is not simply a problem to resolve; it may be an invitation—an invitation to deeper conversion, greater compassion, and a more honest love. As mercy begins to take root, something changes in the community. We become less reactive and more patient, less inclined to judge and more ready to listen. Not because everything becomes easy, but because we begin, even if only a little, to see as God sees. The hall of mirrors does not disappear. But it is transformed. What once showed us only discomfort or distortion can become a place of truth—and even of grace. Because there, again and again, we are invited not only to see ourselves, but to learn how to love. -BrMD
I remember reading somewhere that the fault we see most clearly in other people is our own main fault. I have no idea if this it true or not. I admire the saints very much for their charity in the way they look at others. I wish I could be kinder and more charitable to others. I thought of the Sons of Thunder wanting to call down fire on a nearby village and chuckled. I can be a
There was something I always wondered about St Therese of Liseaux. She was only 15 when she entered her Carmel but she was very,very spiritually based. Very old for her age. But her Superior was a Neurotic , she used to have them chase and catch mice for her cat for instance and there were all kinds of problems with others in the convent including the novices she was eventually in charge of. She never mentions it too much in her bio but I always wondered how clear eyed she was about the lived circumstance in which she found herself. She must have known I think. She was very intelligent. Being charitable and humble does not putting our head in the sand. But of course she could not have written right out about it I suppose. So I do wonder.
You wrote the following, Brother Mark: So the hall of mirrors remains. But perhaps we begin to stand in it with a different spirit—less fear, less defensiveness, and more humility. What we see in others is not simply a problem to resolve; it may be an invitation—an invitation to deeper conversion, greater compassion, and a more honest love...As mercy begins to take root, something changes in the community. We become less reactive and more patient, less inclined to judge and more ready to listen. Not because everything becomes easy, but because we begin, even if only a little, to see as God sees. 2 Cor 3: 17 Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. 18 And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being changed into his likeness from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit. The community of the Monastery is smaller, more intimately connected, and in that sense more challenging and demanding. Yet, the rhythm of prayer provides the daily invitation and opportunity of which you speak. When Geralyn and I were raising our young brood, any need to apologize was encouraged before we did family prayer in the evening, and that included us parents as well. It is more difficult to apply this principle on a parish level, thus there should be the regular exhortation to seek out the confessional at least monthly. Lord have Mercy! O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee!
