TO EXPLAIN the difference between “mercy” and “grace,” the most common example I’ve heard preached from the pulpit is this: You appear in court before a judge, having committed a crime that should land you in jail. If the judge sentences you as he is supposed to, that would be called justice. If, for some reason, the judge decides to suspend your sentence and lets you go free, that would be mercy. But if the judge decided that the punishment needed to be paid, but still wanted to save you from it, so he ordered that he himself should be put in jail for your crimes, that would be grace. I’m not fond of this particular example. For starters, it’s ludicrous. In this history of the world, has this ever happened (aside from the overt metaphor of Jesus taking our punishment for sin)? It just doesn’t hit me where I live. I’ve never been in the situation, nor do I hope to be. Second, the difference between receiving mercy and receiving justice in this case is exactly the same on my end: I go free. The only difference is what happens to the judge. In fact I am left thinking that I’d rather have mercy than grace, because grace would make me feel terrible.
A better story I’ve heard about mercy and grace in a sermon goes like this: A child is throwing a baseball around in the living room, even though he has been told not to, because there are many things around to break. Sure enough, he gets careless and breaks a vase with the ball. If the parent disciplined him, that would be justice. If the parent decided for whatever reason to simply let the situation go — kids will be kids — that would be merciful. But if the parent stopped what he or she was doing, and took the child out for ice cream, that would be grace. Grace is getting what we don’t deserve.
I like this story better because it’s much more relatable, and it more clearly defines mercy as withholding punishment, as opposed to the undeserved kindness of grace. Still, this example is meant to make us understand what it feels like to receive grace from God through Jesus. It does not necessarily instruct us on how to be imitators of Christ and to live lives full of grace. The big flaw in this story is that breaking a vase is rarely a willful act, and was more likely a case of carelessness or just being a kid. You could even make the case, since the parent took the child out for ice cream, that the parent should have been doing a better job supervising, or providing an alternate activity, or actively playing with the boy. Ice cream might just be penance for what the parent should have done to begin with: give ample attention.
A better example might be one that involves a stranger, someone with whom I have no long-term relationship and whose well-being and well-adjustment does not necessarily benefit me as well. Fortunately, I was saved from having to think of such a story for myself, as I just saw an episode of the NBC show “My Name Is Earl” depicted exactly such a story. I would recommend watching the show first if you’re able, as my retelling does not do the story full justice (season 4, episode 12, “Orphan Earl”, available for free on Hulu.com as of this writing). However, if you’re averse to crass humor, as the show uses, you might want to just read my spoiler-filled summary:
The premise of “My Name is Earl” is that a ne’er-do-well discovers this simplified version of karma: If you do bad things, bad things will happen to you, but if you do good things, good things will happen. So he makes a list of all the bad things he’s ever done, and sets off to make amends to each person. Even though the show talks about karma a lot, the essence of the show is about the power and beauty of forgiveness and reconciliation (balancing the potential for schmaltz with ribald, outrageous humor). Week in and week out, Earl risks himself by confessing his sin to another, and asking what he can do to help make amends.
In this episode, Earl remembers a time he and his then-wife conned a $100 check out of an elderly man by pretending to work for an African relief fund. He looks up Mr. Hill three years later to return the money, only to discover that his ex-wife Joy has continued the scam by having him adopt an “orphan” and sending monthly checks. Her neighbors at the trailer park joined in, creating fake charities for wildfire victims and flood victims. Earl decides to balance the scales by conning Joy and her friends out of the $5,000 they’d taken from Mr. Hill and returning it to its rightful owner.
Now, I’ve been in Mr. Hill’s shoes before, played for a fool. It was only $20, and I was only 19 years old or so, waiting for a train at Chicago’s Union Station. I was anything but street smart, so when a woman said that she and her daughter had run out of money to catch the last train home before they closed for the night, I believed her. Being a college student at the time with a tight budget, I’d often come downtown with just about exactly the money I’d need for the trip, including food, admissions, etc. and I always worried about accidentally spending the train fare home by mistake. So I was all prepared to give her the $5 or so she’d need, but I found that I didn’t have $5 left myself, only the emergency $20 that my mom had given me that I tucked away separately.
In retrospect, really should have gone upstairs to the ticket booth and offered the by the tickets for her directly, but as I said, I was trusting, and just asked her to bring me back the change after she’d bought the tickets. I sat and waited, and waited, and waited, until I realized she wasn’t coming back, that I’d been ripped off. I’d been lied to. I’d been left with only about $3 in my pocket in downtown Chicago. I felt vulnerable, used, stupid, angry, frustrated, injured. If the cops had come into the station holding that $20 bill I would have been so happy to have it back. If they’d brought the woman along with them, I would probably have felt a sense of satisfaction that she didn’t walk away clean, even if I wouldn’t want retribution.
So when Mr. Hill not only gets his money back, but is given an opportunity to confront the three women who ripped him off, most of us would have to feel pretty happy about the situation, if not a little smug. Justice had been served. But when Mr. Hill sees the situation that these women live in, especially after losing their appliances to a loan shark who secured them the money and — in karmic fashion, suffer a food shortage, a kitchen fire, and a broken-pipe flood — Mr. Hill gives his money freely to the three women to help them fix their homes and their lives. The women are speechless. They stole from this man, made him feel a fool, and he still sees them as human beings worthy of being helped and cared for.
“When you’ve been a jerk, and someone’s still nice to you, it’s a powerful thing,” Earl says later in a voiceover. That’s a plainly put sentiment that I think we can all take into our daily lives and learn to better show grace, as well as touching on what it feels like to have received grace through Christ. Do unto others as you would never expect things to be done unto you. Repay deceit with generosity, petulance with calm, harm with forgiveness, and hardness with humanity. Grace is as simple — and immensely complicated — as that.
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