The Quality of Mercy
by Pete Feigal
There was a woman in
one of my Groups named Sue, one of the kindest and most insightful
people I've ever met. She was very comforting and compassionate
to everyone in the group. Everyone loved her. She was also suffering
terribly. She talked about how her marriage made her feel trapped,
that she didn't love her husband anymore, but didn't want to hurt
him by divorcing him, and she didn't want her kids to suffer, either.
She blamed herself for all of the marriage's problems, all of her
family's problems, that it was her fault because she was incapable
of love.
As she felt more of a connection with the group, she started talking
about her childhood, and about her father, who had abused her sexually
when she was twelve. She felt that too, was her fault. She believed
she should have protected herself, somehow, she should have been
able to prevent it from happening, that somehow she could have stopped
him.
She judged herself severely for her abuse, and she refused to consider
the possibility that it might not have been her fault. She said that
it didn't make sense, but it was her own fault, that she had never
done anything right her whole life, and now because of how messed
up her life was that her whole family was going to be destroyed.
She fixed herself on her
childhood abuse and used it as a judgment against her entire life.
The more we tried to tell her that a twelve-year-old girl was powerless
against a 35-year-old man, the more her judgmental mind tightened
its grip on her spirit. After every group, she was as adamant as
ever about where the blame for her suffering belonged. She said
once that "nothing you ever tell me will ever convince me that
I did not do something wrong." Like so many of us, the greatest
barriers to her own healing wasn't the pain, sorrow and violence
she had faced as a child. The greatest hindrance was her own ongoing
capacity to judge and to criticize herself, to bring tremendous
harm to herself.
Then at one particular
group, our amazing group leader asked about her two kids, a son
and a daughter that she loved very much. She said, "What if your
son or daughter came home and told you that a man had fondled them
and made them do things they didn't want to. Would you punish them,
or yell at them for letting it happen? Would you tell them that
it was their own fault?" A look of horror came over Sue's face.
"Are you kidding?! I'd never do that! They're just children. They
couldn't protect themselves against a full-grown adult . . . "
In that moment, feeling a rush of sadness and mercy fill her heart,
she began to cry for her children, for herself, and for all of
the violence and judgment she had carried for so long.
Finally, Letting her judgments against herself go, Sue began to
feel more deeply all the things that were true about her childhood.
She was terribly hurt, her father was violent, her mother hadn't
protected her, she couldn't protect herself, and she carried great
sadness that needed to be grieved. But she was also so strong, insightful,
and creative, and worthy of care, mercy, and love. And while her
self-judgement had condemned her inability to love, the truth was
she was filled with love, and it was her tremendous love for her
children that enabled her to finally break free.
It's one of those terrible paradoxes that when we are in the most
pain, and need love the most, that's when we feel most broken and
unworthy of love. We feel that our pain, confusion or fear is proof
that we must be doing something wrong, and we sometimes try and make
ourselves acceptable before we earn the right to be loved.
We judge ourselves more severely than we would ever judge someone
else. Peace of spirit comes equally from the kindness and mercy that
we give to ourselves, as from what we share with others. Mercy is
a gift we must offer to everyone. I believe the gentleness, forgiveness
and acceptance that are the heart of mercy is one of the keys to
ending the violence in the world, and within our own hearts.
"The quality of
mercy is not strain'd.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place
beneath."
Portia-The Merchant of Venice-William Shakespeare
