Guest Post by Clark - Justice and Mercy

Clark tried to post a comment in response to the Provident Living blog that is too long for the blogspot comment box, so I'm inserting it here as a guest post:

I really appreciate you doing this blog. It helps me refocus on what's most important and what I need to do to have the spirit more in my life and move closer to Jesus.

In a minute I'm going to post anecdotal excerpts from two of my favorite talks. They're both about forgiveness. Interestingly, both talks were given by seasoned apostles in the last few meters of their ministry. The first one is simply entitled, "Forgiveness," by President Hinckley and was given in October 2005. The second was entitled, "The Healing Power of Forgiveness," and was, I believe, Elder Faust's final address at General Conference. What's also noteworthy is the heroes in the anecdotes who so beautifully demonstrated sweeping, thorough forgiveness in situations where merely refusing to hate seemed to be a Herculean task, weren't LDS. In Elder Faust's story it was an Amish community in Pennsylvania.

Since we're talking about guns let me put it this way. I think most of us, myself included, are far more eager to pull the trigger on justice than mercy. And there are plenty of scriptures or quotes from church leaders we have in our arsenal that affirm the justice of God. However, lately, I've been thinking about what is possibly the greatest gap between Saints with whom in many ways the Lord is well pleased, and the Lord himself. Could it be our inability to cry out on the cross in love and empathy, and not merely a stiff upper lip dignity, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." In Matthew 5:46-47 it says, "For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the publicans the same? And if you salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others? do not even the publicans so?"

I remember a "deep thought" from Jack Handy that went something like, 'I've resolved to be really kind and patient today, until some stupid jerk ticks me off, that is.' In Les Miserables, the turning point in Jean Valjean's life was when a compassionate bishop chose to not send the dogs after Jean Valjean after he stole a loaf of bread.

I've noticed a couple times in the scriptures there are passages in the blessed are ye if, followed by more blessed are ye if. Perhaps in this situation blessed are ye if you were wise like the 10 virgins in the parable who prepared their oil in advance of the wedding feast. Blessed are ye for being able to take care of your family. But is it unreasonable to suggest that perhaps more blessed are ye if you could sacrifice a little of your portion that you diligently prepared and is rightfully yours for someone who foolishly or ignorantly didn't and now out of desperation is begging or employing force to obtain something that isn't rightfully theirs?

It says in Alma that the Lord works in strange ways for the salvation of his people. There are more than a few examples throughout time of people who had previously made poor choices for whatever reason being saved and brought into the fold by someone who was Christ-like enough to offer them some mercy at a time when they rightfully could've been exposed to the whole demands of justice.

I get concerned when we seem to talk ourselves out of being a little more merciful and back up our views with church doctrine. I understand it's contrary to the nature of God to remove justice out of the equation. And that individuals need both for their own spiritual development. Sometimes inside of our families, and almost all times outside of our families, though, I'd say very few of us are in any danger of erring too much on the mercy side of the balance scale. If anything, we've loaded up our perceptions and emotions on the judgment side (even though our answers in gospel doctrine might indicate otherwise). But when injustice strikes, how we really feel and what we really believe is smoked out of us.

During the recent lead-up to the California vote to repeal gay marriage I wonder with what attitude we were heeding the prophetic call to oppose it. I like Alma 48: 23-24: "Now they were sorry to take up arms against the Lamanites, because they did not delight in the shedding of blood...." Were we humbly carrying out our charge to oppose gay marriage, without "railing accusation, that ye be not overcome, neither with boasting your rejoicing, lest you be seized wherewith" (instruction given in D&C 50:33 regarding casting out evil spirits)? Or was our faithfulness to the call, mixed a little with railing accusations, boasting, or rejoicing?

I, myself, am often guilty of what I term righteous indignation. But, I think I need to leave that to Jesus since he's far more righteous than me. In the meantime, I need to have more of a broken heart and contrite spirit, even in the face of opposing the adversary and his propaganda.

Finally, I fully believe in agency and my responsibility to take full accountability, and identify and overcome anything that is hindering me from doing that. But with other people, especially those who have tasted a seamier and darker side of life that I'm a stranger to I think my first reaction needs to be mercy, before I headlong rush into justice and judgment. I'll always remember something Donald Rumsfield said in response to a critic at a press conference: You began from a flawed premise and proceeded perfectly logically to your conclusion. I think many of us, myself included, don't often see the flaw(s) in our initial premise, and feel justified because most, if not every, step from that point appeared, or was, logical.

Now for the best part, the pasting of the excerpts:

From President Hinckley's Talk
A time back, I clipped a column from the Deseret Morning News, written by Jay Evensen. With his permission, I quote from a part of it. Wrote he:
"How would you feel toward a teenager who decided to toss a 20-pound frozen turkey from a speeding car headlong into the windshield of the car you were driving? How would you feel after enduring six hours of surgery using metal plates and other hardware to piece your face together, and after learning you still face years of therapy before returning to normal—and that you ought to feel lucky you didn't die or suffer permanent brain damage?
"And how would you feel after learning that your assailant and his buddies had the turkey in the first place because they had stolen a credit card and gone on a senseless shopping spree, just for kicks? . . .
"This is the kind of hideous crime that propels politicians to office on promises of getting tough on crime. It's the kind of thing that prompts legislators to climb all over each other in a struggle to be the first to introduce a bill that would add enhanced penalties for the use of frozen fowl in the commission of a crime.
"The New York Times quoted the district attorney as saying this is the sort of crime for which victims feel no punishment is harsh enough. 'Death doesn't even satisfy them,' he said.
"Which is what makes what really happened so unusual. The victim, Victoria Ruvolo, a 44-year-old former manager of a collections agency, was more interested in salvaging the life of her 19-year-old assailant, Ryan Cushing, than in exacting any sort of revenge. She pestered prosecutors for information about him, his life, how he was raised, etc. Then she insisted on offering him a plea deal. Cushing could serve six months in the county jail and be on probation for 5 years if he pleaded guilty to second-degree assault.
"Had he been convicted of first-degree assault—the charge most fitting for the crime—he could have served 25 years in prison, finally thrown back into society as a middle-aged man with no skills or prospects.
"But this is only half the story. The rest of it, what happened the day this all played out in court, is the truly remarkable part.
"According to an account in the New York Post, Cushing carefully and tentatively made his way to where Ruvolo sat in the courtroom and tearfully whispered an apology. 'I'm so sorry for what I did to you.'
"Ruvolo then stood, and the victim and her assailant embraced, weeping. She stroked his head and patted his back as he sobbed, and witnesses, including a Times reporter, heard her say, 'It's OK. I just want you to make your life the best it can be.' According to accounts, hardened prosecutors, and even reporters, were choking back tears" ("Forgiveness Has Power to Change Future," Deseret Morning News, Aug. 21, 2005, p. AA3).
What a great story that is, greater because it actually happened, and that it happened in tough old New York. Who can feel anything but admiration for this woman who forgave the young man who might have taken her life?
I know this is a delicate and sensitive thing of which I am speaking. There are hardened criminals who may have to be locked up. There are unspeakable crimes, such as deliberate murder and rape, that justify harsh penalties. But there are some who could be saved from long, stultifying years in prison because of an unthoughtful, foolish act. Somehow forgiveness, with love and tolerance, accomplishes miracles that can happen in no other way.

From President Faust:
My dear brothers and sisters and friends, I come before you humbly and prayerfully. I wish to speak on the healing power of forgiveness.
In the beautiful hills of Pennsylvania, a devout group of Christian people live a simple life without automobiles, electricity, or modern machinery. They work hard and live quiet, peaceful lives separate from the world. Most of their food comes from their own farms. The women sew and knit and weave their clothing, which is modest and plain. They are known as the Amish people.
A 32-year-old milk truck driver lived with his family in their Nickel Mines community. He was not Amish, but his pickup route took him to many Amish dairy farms, where he became known as the quiet milkman. Last October he suddenly lost all reason and control. In his tormented mind he blamed God for the death of his first child and some unsubstantiated memories. He stormed into the Amish school without any provocation, released the boys and adults, and tied up the 10 girls. He shot the girls, killing five and wounding five. Then he took his own life.
This shocking violence caused great anguish among the Amish but no anger. There was hurt but no hate. Their forgiveness was immediate. Collectively they began to reach out to the milkman's suffering family. As the milkman's family gathered in his home the day after the shootings, an Amish neighbor came over, wrapped his arms around the father of the dead gunman, and said, "We will forgive you."1 Amish leaders visited the milkman's wife and children to extend their sympathy, their forgiveness, their help, and their love. About half of the mourners at the milkman's funeral were Amish. In turn, the Amish invited the milkman's family to attend the funeral services of the girls who had been killed. A remarkable peace settled on the Amish as their faith sustained them during this crisis.
One local resident very eloquently summed up the aftermath of this tragedy when he said, "We were all speaking the same language, and not just English, but a language of caring, a language of community, [and] a language of service. And, yes, a language of forgiveness."2 It was an amazing outpouring of their complete faith in the Lord's teachings in the Sermon on the Mount: "Do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you."3
The family of the milkman who killed the five girls released the following statement to the public:
"To our Amish friends, neighbors, and local community:
"Our family wants each of you to know that we are overwhelmed by the forgiveness, grace, and mercy that you've extended to us. Your love for our family has helped to provide the healing we so desperately need. The prayers, flowers, cards, and gifts you've given have touched our hearts in a way no words can describe. Your compassion has reached beyond our family, beyond our community, and is changing our world, and for this we sincerely thank you.
"Please know that our hearts have been broken by all that has happened. We are filled with sorrow for all of our Amish neighbors whom we have loved and continue to love. We know that there are many hard days ahead for all the families who lost loved ones, and so we will continue to put our hope and trust in the God of all comfort, as we all seek to rebuild our lives."4
How could the whole Amish group manifest such an expression of forgiveness? It was because of their faith in God and trust in His word, which is part of their inner beings. They see themselves as disciples of Christ and want to follow His example.
Hearing of this tragedy, many people sent money to the Amish to pay for the health care of the five surviving girls and for the burial expenses of the five who were killed. As a further demonstration of their discipleship, the Amish decided to share some of the money with the widow of the milkman and her three children because they too were victims of this terrible tragedy.
Forgiveness comes more readily when, like the Amish, we have faith in God and trust in His word. Such faith "enables people to withstand the worst of humanity. It also enables people to look beyond themselves. More importantly, it enables them to forgive."