Giving and Seeking... Mercy and Forgiveness
 
"The Parable of the Unmerciful Servant" is the chapter heading in one of my bibles for today's Gospel reading; in another "The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant" is the lede. The two titles, and the no-nonsense and no-nuance parable from Jesus the Teacher that gives them substance, are reminders that forgiveness is one of the manifestations -- lived, real, 'sacramental' -- of what it means to body forth the virtue of mercy.
 
The parable of a king, moved to mercy coming in the form of forgiveness of a debt so large as to be forever unpayable, brings to mind Jesuit moral theologian James Keenan's definition of mercy: the 'willingness to enter into the chaos of the other.' The messy life of the servant called to accountability before this king -- the fractured, fearful family, the crying children, the eviction, the woe -- moves him to compassion, and the debt is forgiven. The response from the forgiven servant, the recipient of mercy, is appalling, of course, but serves as a reminder that we forgive and may need to forgive again and again and again... Forgiveness does not, short term, erase all chaos, but it is never the wrong choice.
 
What prompts this parable from Jesus is the question from Peter, "How many times must I forgive?" I wonder.....Is there a life event that has prompted Peter's question? We don't know the backstory here, the prequel, if you will. Had someone taken the risk of asking Peter for forgiveness? Maybe not for the first time? We know Peter had a mother-in-law, so he was not immune from the drama and chaos of family life where hurt feelings can fester into resentment. Or was the request for forgiveness coming from within the very circle of disciples, where the intimacy of daily living and the clash of personalities at times surely had to grate.
 
Taking the risk of asking for forgiveness... Pope Francis' recent pilgrimage of atonement to Canada, begging forgiveness there from Indigenous peoples for the Church's culpability in the deepest violations of persons and cultures, is testimony to our vulnerability as we come to another in lament, humility, and contrition. Will our offer be enough? Will our request be honored? We do not know as we gather the courage to ask. We pray that we may meet a merciful 'king' in our encounter with another, a king moved to compassion to reach into our own chaos. Could we be that regal person to another?
 
Where do we find ourselves in the object/subject of forgiveness today? Are we risking granting or risking asking? Could we see the Kingdom of heaven as a 'place' where even our puniest offers of courage and goodness and grace are magnified beyond all measure?  

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Reflection on St. Clare, Virgin
 
Today the Church memorializes the work and witness of Saint Clare, foundress in the 13th century of the Poor Clares religious order for women. Clare's story is inevitably linked with St. Francis, whom she called her Father, Planter, and Helper in the Service of Christ, writes Robert Ellsberg in his book All Saints. Though they shared deep and loving bonds of friendship and a passionate commitment to Lady Poverty, Clare's goal in life was not to be a reflection of Francis but to be, like him, a reflection of Christ. "Christ is the way," she said, "and Francis showed it to me." 
 
Even though there is no one 'Clare' in the life of St. Ignatius, the recent celebration of the Ignatian Year has given us a sharper appreciation of the legacy of women as friends, patrons, pupils, and partners in preserving the treasure of Ignatian spirituality over the centuries. From the earliest days, when Ignatius' sister-in-law gave him those two life-changing books, when women were considered worthy of spiritual conversation and were the first 'focus groups' for the Exercises, to now, where women teach and lead in Jesuit high schools and colleges (welcome to Fordham, President Tania Tetlow!), and serve in apostolates and journey as spiritual directors and retreat presenters -- Ignatius continues to live in the contributions of men and women as contemplatives in action.
 
No matter the charism nor the original vision, let us give thanks for those women in history and real time who have loved the Church and who ferreted out altars -- not always obvious -- upon which to place their gifts, who have shown us through their work and witness that Christ is indeed the way.