In The Affirmative: Mercy me
A painting by Wendy's wife Jo. Wendy says this image speaks to her of ‘when a difficult situation meets a river of mercy and everything calms down’, and the words of the prophet Amos: ‘Let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!’ (Amos 5:24).
OUR MOST READ BLOGGER since 2022 is back with the seventh of a series sharing more of her story. This month she reflects on moments of compassion and consolation.
In the Affirmative is a monthly blog from Open Table member Wendy Young who shares her life, thoughts and experience as a queer Christian in Britain. We’d love to hear from you, too: Wendy invites readers to add their responses and reactions as we build community together. You can read the rest of the series here.
“although it was indeed scary, we didn’t need to take the matter any further”
Dear friends,
When was the last time you were awestruck by an act of mercy?
For Lent the sermon series in my church is on the theme: ‘Justice and mercy’, and on the first Sunday we read Micah 6:6-8, where the prophet asks what they could possibly give that would be enough of a sacrifice to please God: burnt offerings, or rivers of oil, or their precious child? What could we bring to God that would be enough to say thank you? Verse 8 ends with the answer to what God actually requires of us: that we act justly, love mercy and walk humbly.
My understanding of mercy is to show kindness or compassion in circumstances that are challenging, or to people we find challenging.
I wonder if you know the song Mercy came running by Phillips, Craig and Dean? They sing: ‘When I could not reach mercy, mercy came running to me’. That’s what it felt like when I was a young child - everything around me was falling apart, and mercy came to me in the shape of my maternal grandmother, Ouma Drieka.
Ouma was a unique character. She had always been dirt poor but had managed to build a little business out of knitting posh outfits for the upper middle class lunching-ladies of Kimberley, the South African city famous for its diamond mines. These ladies wore the finest diamonds from the De Beers mine. It was the fashion in 1980’s South Africa to wear knitted dresses and two-piece sets all in one colour head-to-toe. I suspect they probably never paid her fairly for the hours she would spend at her large horizontal upright knitting machine, often deep into the night.
Kimberley is one of the hottest places in South Africa. Ouma Drieka used to cut deep V’s into the backs and fronts of all her own clothes (cheap nylon) and wear wet flannels around her neck to try and keep cool. Her false teeth permanently lived in a glass by the bed and she drank nothing but gallons of water. She always had multiple radios on, throughout the house, often playing different stations, and when she wasn’t working she watched TV until the national flag waved on screen, signalling the end of broadcasting at midnight.
Whenever a client paid for an outfit my ouma would walk half an hour into town and haggle with the sidewalk-grocers for the best price on the best potatoes. She was a tall, strong woman and would carry home a 20kg bag of potatoes like it was a small child on her hip. She would announce her purchase to all the neighbours and peel and deep-fry mountains of chunky chips (or chiffs, when you have no teeth) until everyone had had enough to eat. Her house was always full of people, noise, laughter and love. Ouma Drieka’s house was my safe haven at a time when there was no telling what even just the very next day of my life would look like.
In her knitting room she had customised the picture rail that ran all around the room at waist height (for her; for me it was just above my head) to house her many glass jars of buttons. Picture this: underneath the white ledge that I suppose was meant to be a kind of mantlepiece, the metal lids of glass jars were attached with strong screws; the glass jars filled with buttons in all the colours of the rainbow would in turn screw into their lids. I don’t think I’m exaggerating - but you know what memory does to facts! - there must have been 50 jars. Whenever my mum scooped me up from our own house, or school, or wherever, and decided we needed to go to Ouma’s house right now we usually arrived in a state of panic and turmoil. Ouma Drieka always knew what to do - her best medicine for me was to open all the jars and pour the buttons out on the floor and ask me to sort them into their different colours again. It would take hours and it would keep me completely calm and occupied while she and my mum talked about whatever it was that had brought us there in the first place.
Who have those special people been in your life? What are your memories of mercy when everything else was in chaos?
More importantly: how can we be that person to someone else? In what ways can we show mercy to those suffering the hardships of a whole world in panic and turmoil?
About six months ago, a new neighbour moved in next door to my wife and I here in the UK. Our first impression of him was that we were not safe: on the day before he officially moved in, and before we had ever set eyes on him, he banged on our front door swearing and shouting at 5am one dark morning. It was terrifying - we called the police who said they would come to take a statement and that we shouldn’t hesitate to call again should this not be a one-off.
Before they could come over though, the matter was resolved: our neighbour’s brother explained that our neighbour is autistic and that he was triggered by something we had done completely unwittingly. They were both mortified and apologised profusely. We asked how we could prevent the same thing from happening again, and discussed possible triggers and ways to support him. We tried to cancel the police having to come over but they had to take some details in order to close the case. We were relieved to be able to say we understood what had happened and, although it was indeed scary, we didn’t need to take the matter any further.
During the time our new neighbour has been living here, my wife was once able to mediate during a dispute that nearly got out of hand when someone else acted quite aggressively towards him, in turn making him defend himself. She managed to calm the whole situation and both people down. And I get to say hello to his magnificent support-dog. It’s a win-win.
I like to think that we might continue to show him mercy, in what will undoubtedly be some tricky future situations. I believe it’s what Jesus would do.
Wendy
