Blessed are the merciful

I belong to a Mennonite-Catholic dialogue group which meets several times a year. Our assignment for this week’s meeting was a personal reflection on the Beatitudes, broadly, and then more specifically, in choosing one beatitude we were particularly “attracted” to at this point — in not more than seven minutes each! The contributions were varied, and all interesting. This was mine:

I memorized many parts of the Sermon on the Mount as a child, to get a reduction on Bible camp fees. So it seems the Beatitudes have been with me forever, like old markers, like a fence around my life. They’ve been markers for my (Mennonite) understanding of discipleship.

In this reflection, however, I was struck by something else. The opening beatitudes [blessed are the poor, mourning, meek, hungry], at least, seem an expression of holes in the soul. I see need, grief, poverty of whatever kind, hunger. Yes, there’s a happiness expressed, but next to gaping wounds.

I attended some of the events of the Thin Air writers’ festival here in Winnipeg last week, and found it interesting that writers like Miriam Toews, Rosemary Nixon, Wayne Tefs, said things like “we’re all wounded” and “we’re really messed up humans.” I felt an honesty there that I encounter less often in church. We jump the “happy” or “blessed” right over the hole and proclaim the solid ground we’ve landed on: the kingdom, the satisfaction, the comfort, the earth for our heritage. But it’s that emptiness, that hole in the center – that’s what we bring.