Thomas Merton

Napoleon Bonaparte entered his palace accompanied by an assortment of military officers. As they made their way through the gallery, a 14-year-old girl rushed forward, fell at the emperor’s feet, and clung to his legs from behind. “Mercy, Sir, mercy for my father,” she pleaded. Napoleon turned around, startled by her sudden appearance, and spoke in a curt tone, “Who are you?” “I am Mademoiselle Lajolais; my father will die,” she pleaded. “Yes, I know, but Mademoiselle, it is the second time your father is guilty of an attack against the state. I cannot give him anything.” “Alas, Sir, I know,” she said, “but the first time Papa was innocent, and today, Sir, it is not justice that I ask you: it is mercy. Mercy for him.” The emperor was deeply touched at her stunning response, took her small hands, and said in a broken voice, “Ah, well! Yes, my child, I will grant mercy because of you.” How remarkable the girl had the insight to plead for mercy, not justice. Justice is getting what we deserve. Mercy is getting more than we deserve. Mercy isn’t mercy if it is deserved, just as a gift isn’t a gift if it is deserved. Jesus told a parable about a Pharisee and a tax collector. Jesus commended the tax collector who prayed, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner,” and condemned the Pharisee for praying, “I thank you, God, that I am not like other people” (Luke 18.9-14). Trappist monk Thomas Merton (1915-1968) observed in his meditation on this parable in No Man is an Island that people who are virtuous enough to forget they are sinners are in a far more perilous spiritual position than those who know their need for God’s mercy. Merton leads us in asking God for mercy: