Beyond mercy

I anxiously rushed through the martial arts ranks pursuing the coveted black belt as if it were the finish line in a marathon. After a few years of hard effort, I got there, but my instructor had some words which helped me change my perspective on my goal. “Now you can really begin,” he told me. “Finally, you know enough of the basics to start your real training.” Where I saw a finish line, he saw a starting point.

This is how I see this Jubilee Year of Mercy, which ends next month. Though I can be tempted to think that I’m now done with all this mercy “stuff;” it’s really only now, at the close of this year that I can begin making real progress.  I’ve finally read enough articles, attended enough events, ruminated enough reflections to believe in the importance of receiving and extending mercy to others.

Just as I had to think beyond the black belt, we must think beyond the Year of Mercy, and start thinking more about a time of mercy—a time with no end. To aid in this I’d like to share three reflections based on talks shared at the Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy Celebration on the American Continent, which I recently had the honor of attending. The first two points are based on anecdotes shared by his Archbishop Luis Augusto Castro of Tunja, Colombia. The last point is a based on something Pope Francis touched on through a video message he recorded for the event.

20/20 vision

An experienced hunter got up early one morning to go hunting in the forest. All of a sudden, he saw an enormous shadow and thought to himself that it belonged to a ferocious animal. He prepared to shoot, but after pausing for a moment he noticed that the shadow actually had a human form. He thought that maybe it was an enemy who was trying to harm him so he kept his rifle firmly fixed on the threat. Upon even closer inspection, he was able to identify the owner of that shadow which had scared him so. It was none other than his own brother who had accompanied him on the hunting trip. He too had left the cabin early trying to catch himself some breakfast.

The initial work of mercy is first and foremost an internal task. We must permit God to adjust our perception of our surroundings so that we can go from seeing a world filled with animals, to seeing human beings, to seeing brothers in our neighbors. The fact that we have so many wars, abortions, suicides, etc. only helps to illustrate how far we are from our goal.

The price of mercy

There once was a man peacefully sleeping at the foot of a tree after a hard day’s work.  Meanwhile, a venomous snake slithered its way towards the unsuspecting man. Perched on a nearby branch above them were three mosquitoes watching the scene unfold beneath them.

The first mosquito malevolently delighted at the drama that was about to take place before his eyes. The second mosquito lamented in horror and shook his head at the fate that awaited the man. The third insect decided that something needed to be done, so he flew over and bit the man on the nose. The plan worked. The man awoke in time to avoid the impending death, but not everyone shared in the happy ending. For alas, when the mosquito bit the man, he instinctively swatted the bug and killed it on the spot. The moral of the story is that to be willing to be merciful means to be willing to embrace the cross.

From the heart to the hand

The last point is a warning against the inoculation of the conscience to which we, as people of “good will,” fall prey to when our mercy is much talk and no walk. We can become the second mosquito by commenting on the evil around us, liking and sharing on Facebook, and even when we exclusively pray about the evil in the world. A different incident that illustrates this point happened when I discovered that I weighed twenty pounds more than I thought I did. I immediately went out and bought an elliptical machine; I brought it home and placed it in my basement. The sense that I had “done something” for my health appeased my conscience and so I returned peacefully to my couch while my exercise equipment proceeded to collect dust for the next couple of years.

Pope Francis illustrated this point by speaking about how Paul describes his experience of God’s mercy toward him. Paul doesn’t say that God “treated him with” or “taught him” mercy, but rather that he was “shown mercy” (cf. 1 Tim 1:13). The world’s experience of our mercy has to be less of a platitude and more of a concrete act. That is what our Pontiff referred to by having our mercy move “from our heart to our hand.” That is the way in which Jesus has loved us, and that is the way in which He yearns to love the world, through us, in this Year of Mercy, and beyond.

Luis Alvarez is the executive director of Hispanic Ministry  for the Archdiocese of Denver and Centro San Juan Diego.

COMING UP: Father Jan Mucha remembered for his ‘joy and simplicity’

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When Father Marek Ciesla was 11 years old, he encountered a priest in his hometown in northern Poland who was visiting his parish on mission.

“I was impressed,” said Father Ciesla. “A couple of my friends and I were talking about how energetic, how wonderful this priest was. I think in this way he inspired us a little bit to follow the call to the priesthood.”

The priest was Father Jan Mucha, and little did Father Ciesla know that decades later and an ocean away, he would reunite with the man that inspired him and his friend to pursue the priesthood.

In 2010 when Father Mucha was retiring from his role as pastor of St. Joseph Polish Catholic Church in Denver, Father Ciesla was sent from Poland to the Archdiocese of Denver to take his place.

The priests spent two days together, and Father Ciesla was struck by the familiarity of Father Mucha.

“For some reason, the way he was talking and the words he was using, something rang a bell,” he said. “I asked him if he remembers visiting my parish. And he said, ‘Oh, yeah, I had it on my list. I remember.’”

Father Ciesla was amazed that the man he was there to replace was the same one who had impacted his life all those years ago.

“God works in mysterious ways,” said Father Ciesla. “I never thought I would meet him again.”

Father Mucha passed away March 21 after serving the archdiocese for 40 years. He was 88 years old.

Father Mucha was born March 16, 1930 in Gron, Poland to parents Kazimierz and Aniela Mucha. He was one of five children. Father Mucha attended high school in Kraków and went on to study philosophy and theology at a seminary in Tarnów.

Father Mucha was ordained December 19, 1954 in Tarnów by Auxiliary Bishop Karol Pękala. He served at St. Theresa Parish in Lublin, Sacred Heart Parish in Florynka and as a Latin teacher at Sacred Heart Novice House in Mszana Dolna.

He was incardinated into the Archdiocese of Denver on April 20, 1978. Before he was granted retirement status in August of 2010, he served at St. Joseph Polish for nearly 40 years.

“Father Mucha was dedicated to his people and there was a joy about him,” said Msgr. Bernard Schmitz, who had known Father Mucha since his own ordination in 1974 and more recently within his former role as Vicar for Clergy.

“I admired his joy and simplicity,” said Msgr. Schmitz. “He seemed to have no guile and what you saw is what you got. He was very proud of his Polish heritage and was unafraid to be Polish.”

Father Mucha’s move to the United States came about after he visited St. Joseph Polish while on vacation. The pastor at the time was sick, and parishioners asked Father Mucha to stay.

After receiving approval from his superiors in Poland and the archbishop in Denver, Father Mucha did stay, and ended up serving the parish for nearly four decades.

“He was happy to serve here,” said Father Ciesla. “All the time, he was a man of faith. He kept his eye on Jesus.”

Msgr. Schmitz believes Father Mucha’s faithfulness and tenacity as a priest will leave a lasting impression on those he served.

“He was dedicated to the priesthood and didn’t want to retire until he was sure his people would be well taken care of,” said Msgr. Schmitz. “He could come across as tough, but really he was a compassionate person [with] a heart open to the Lord’s work.”