The Strength of Mercy

 

Image by Myriams-Fotos from Pixabay

I have been reading Michael Morpurgo’s stories for over a decade now, and what I appreciate most about his works is that they make me think about important issues. A lot of his books deal with war, such as in Toro! Toro! or the classic War Horse. And although these stories are works of fiction, they are based on historical events. I have been personally challenged to reevaluate my beliefs about war after reading Morpurgo’s stories.

An Eagle in the Snow is another such book. War is a major aspect of the story, and we see depictions of the suffering that the killings and bombings caused during both world wars. But more than anything, I believe an overarching theme in this story is the strength of mercy.

The book follows the story of Billy (based on a real soldier in WWI named William Tandey). In the story, he spares the life of a German soldier after a successful attack. So many men had already died that day, on both sides, and he did not think the man was a threat. Many years later, though, he realizes that the man he had spared was none other than Adolf Hitler. He becomes consumed with guilt over his part in allowing Hitler to live and cause terrible suffering. Eventually, this drives him to create a new plan – one which involves doing what he thinks he should have done earlier. To kill Hitler.

But even then, he cannot do it.

The reader is left to decide what he or she thinks about Billy’s choice. Was he right in showing mercy? Should we fight evil with evil, or is mercy and a dedication to goodness more powerful?

Too often, I think people view compassion and mercy as weaknesses. We might be tempted to read the story of Billy and assume he was a coward. Surely, the hero should slay the villain!

Often, they do. As I thought about this story, though, I could not help but think of another story with themes of mercy, written by a man who served in WWI and lived through both wars. I am reminded of how, in J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, Frodo regretted Bilbo’s sparing of Gollum’s life. He was convinced that Bilbo should have killed the terrible creature when he had the chance. But then Gandalf shares his wisdom.

As he says, “Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need … Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends. I have not much hope that Gollum can be cured before he dies, but there is a chance of it. And he is bound up with the fate of the Ring. My heart tells me that he has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before the end; and when that comes, the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many – yours not least” (Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring, 65-66).

Did Hitler, like Gollum, deserve death? Yes, but as Gandalf said, there are many who deserve to die but live. Evil people often thrive in the world while those who seek to do right die. The real question is what are we to do with the evil we see around us? We can either multiply it by choosing to fight evil with evil or seek to do good with the time we have been given. To cultivate healing and light in our broken, dark world.

There is more strength and virtue in showing mercy than in demonstrating force. The mercy that held Billy’s hand that day was the same mercy that made him pause and help a girl affected by the war when he was a soldier. And to help his friends when they were injured. Likewise, the pity of Bilbo influenced Frodo, who came to pity Gollum, and even Saurman and Wormtongue.

Of course, we should not remain silent about evil but name it for what it is. We need to speak up against injustice and oppression, serving as a voice for the voiceless. However, we are meant to overcome evil with good. As 1 Peter 3:9 says, “Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing” (NIV).

Choosing to show mercy is an act of defying the darkness in the world. It does not make us weak. Rather, mercy is a strength of those who dare to believe that doing good and showing Christlike love is more powerful than any evil in the world.  

 

Works Cited

Morpurgo, Michael. An Eagle in the Snow. Square Fish, 2015.

Tolkien, J. R. R. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. Del Rey, 2012.

 

 

  

 

Loving Our Neighbors as Writers

 

Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

    A writer’s job is often lonely work. Sitting behind a computer, typing and retyping sentences, we forget that people will one day read our words. A face will gaze at a screen, a booklet, or a novel that contains our words. This is not an empty face – one that symbolizes the crowds – but the face of a person. Someone who has opinions, dreams, questions, and emotions.

    A real person, not a theory, will read and process the stories we create or the articles we craft.

    For this reason, a writer’s work has a relational component. The words we weave together touch the lives of people. We can easily forget this in the wild flurry of creativity. All we see is the raw creation in our hands as we sit alone and are blinded to any marks of darkness or ill intent.

    Emily Byrd Starr experiences this in Emily Climbs when she writes a mocking obituary poem about old Peter DeGeer to spite her Aunt Elizabeth. In sheer delight at her creation, she takes the poem to her teacher, Mr. Carpenter, and proudly presents it to him. She soon realizes her mistake when he asks her if such writing is worthwhile. 

    As he told her, “There is a place for satire – there are gangrenes that can only be burned out – but leave the burning to the great geniuses. It’s better to heal than hurt. We failures know that … Be merciful to the failures, Emily. Satirize wickedness if you must – but pity weakness” (Montgomery 25). She had not only created hateful, mocking words about a man who had recently died but had also hurt her friend who already felt like a failure.       

    To not consider the impact of our words, and to use them to wound instead of to heal, shows we do not care about others. We do not love our neighbor.

    During my MFA degree program, I studied under a professor who reminds me somewhat of Mr. Carpenter from the Emily of New Moon series. He had a way of helping students see reality and truth, just as Emily's teacher did. His classes introduced me to authors who could paint scenes that transformed ordinary moments into something magical, but also writers who used their craft to create stories that left me shaking my head, wondering why anyone would want to make something so vulgar and ugly. In his lectures, he taught literature and the craft of writing while drawing the students back into a biblical framework for writing. He often asked jarring questions – ones that awakened us to the reality that we have an audience of living, breathing humans. What we write will affect them, just as I was affected by the stories of the authors he assigned us to read. 

    “How can you love your neighbor through your writing?” He asked in multiple of his lectures.

    Loving our readers, as our Savior wants, means writing the best we can with clarity and preciseness. However, loving our readers also means much more. As I pondered this instruction, I knew it also meant thinking of my tone and intent in a piece. Do I come across as sarcastic, angry, or condescending in my writing? Am I fair in my presentation of arguments, or am I tilting my paper in favor of the position I favor? Is the story I am writing something beautiful, true, and good? Not that I am ignoring the harsh realities in life or the brokenness in the world. Rather, I should write with the knowledge that my writing can influence people for good or evil. Will I point them toward the light or push them farther into the darkness?

    Let us not deceive ourselves into thinking that creativity and writing are excluded from questions of morality. What people fill their eyes, ears, and minds influences their actions. Although readers have free will and choose to read the things they do, writers carry a responsibility. If what we have written wounds someone, or leads them to stumble into sin, then our Lord will hold us accountable on the day of judgment (2 Corinthians 5:10). He will tell us that we had not loved our neighbor – or Him for that matter – when we chose to stuff books and articles with words of hate, bitterness, or vulgarity.

    A writer’s job is a responsibility. We must choose what to do with the keypad or pen that sits in front of us. Will we write with a love for others, directing them to the Light? Or will we allow darkness to creep out of our hearts and onto the page to infect more people? 

    I pray that each of us will choose love. 

“If I can write an unkind letter, speak an unkind word, think an unkind thought without grief and shame, then I know nothing of Calvary love” (Amy Carmichael, If, 15). 

Sources

Carmichael, Amy. If. CLC Publications, 2018.

Montgomery, L. M. Emily Climbs. Virago, 2014.

Further Reading

• Practicing discernment in what we choose to read is important. Randy Alcorn has an excellent blog post about this, called “What You Read Builds Who You Are,” and provides insights worth considering.
• Katelyn J. Dixon shares her thoughts on the power of words in this beautifully written essay, “The Given Word” on Renovaré.
• As we write, or speak, to others, we are wise to pray and ask for the Lord’s help. We are dependent on Him in all areas of life. In “The Writer’s Prayer,” Dan Balow provides some written prayers we can use to get started. Consider also reading St. Thomas Aquinas’ “A Prayer Before Study.”
• In a previous blog post, “The Power of Words,” I wrote about the impact that writing and words can have on our lives. Often, the art we create can influence people in ways we do not expect.  
• One of the stories I read in a class taught by the professor I mentioned in this post inspired a New Year’s essay centered around Leo Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilych. Living with an eternal mindset is important for us all, including writers.   

Books as Doorways: Thoughts about Summer Reading

 

Image by Tumisu from Pixabay

    People seem to read less and less every year. This trend saddens me because children, teens, and adults alike will miss the way books can expand thinking and perspective or increase the ability to empathize with others. They also miss an opportunity to cultivate character and faith.  

    When I was growing up, summers usually included an emphasis on book reading. Of course, my mother read to my sisters and me throughout the year. She even had a special fenced-in area built in the back of our yard that she called “the secret garden.” There, sitting on plastic chairs among birds singing, she would turn on an audiobook. I vividly remember sitting in one of those chairs, slightly unsteady on the bricks, listening to parts of the Artemis Fowl series.

    Summer, though, brought reading challenges and events at the library. As a child, this looked like attending story time in which an elderly librarian read us picture books or staged a play with puppets. Movies were also sometimes involved and plenty of charts to color in as we finished books. Later, my mother sent my sisters and me to the library for teenager-themed events such as making collages or a hobbit house. We often spent hot or stormy afternoons browsing shelves of books and leaving with armfuls of new stories.

    There’s always something about a stack or shelf of books that excites me. Some people only see books gathering dust. But me? I see doorways into new worlds waiting to be explored, adventures that take me out of day-to-day problems, new friends to make and old ones to visit, and different perspectives to learn and consider. Books entertain but also teach and give encouragement.

    During those summers, I learned about history, the world, and places that fill the imaginations of countless people. In the pages of The Witch of Blackbird Pond, I learned more about colonial America while books like The Nine Pound Hammer series introduced me to American folklore. Traveling for vacation was not an affordable option for my family in my tweens or teens, but I could “travel” to places like Sherwood Forest, Camelot, and Middle-earth. I could also visit Victorian England with Sherlock Holmes or join Sebastian and his cat, Presto, on a journey in The Marvelous Misadventures of Sebastian. Numerous adventures awaited me without having to leave home.

    The options for encountering new stories were endless. As a teenager, I eagerly discovered that my local library carried other titles from J. R. R. Tolkien. Roverandom was a delightful find, pulling me out of the setting of my everyday life to travel to the moon and sea with Rover and to meet a sand wizard. If I could go back, I would advise my teenage self to wait to read The Children of Hurin in the context of The Silmarillion instead of as a standalone story (since I would have found solace knowing that the reader is not supposed to like Turin). However, learning more about the history of Middle-earth was enjoyable. Tolkien’s writings always contained a sense of purpose and beauty mixed with sadness, which intrigued me. I never tired of exploring the world he made.  

    Some people may think that all of this proves that kids and teenagers merely need entertainment during the summer. The books my mother read to me and those I enjoyed on my own did keep me occupied. My reading skills were also sharpened, and I learned about other places, people, and cultures.

    Visiting the library and developing a love for reading, though, was much more than escapism and entertainment. In books, I encountered people who took part in quests that were greater than themselves. Characters sacrificed for those they loved and cultivated enduring friendships. These stories brought me joy and sorrow, and sometimes a combination of both. I believe God used this time to grow within me the longing to be a part of something greater, to know that my life, too, had meaning. The yearning increased the older I got, and I delved farther into books to try and discover the source of it all. Little did I know that the Lord was leading me to Himself, drawing me closer to the point when I would place faith in Him. For in Jesus, I found the fulfillment of my yearning. I might not travel to Mount Doom to destroy a powerful ring like Frodo and Samwise, but in Christ, I learned that my life has a purpose – one that is grander than any quest or mission in a story.

    Lessons and themes we glean from books as kids and the ones we learn now are worth the effort of walking into a bookstore or library. Some will question our choice to tuck ourselves away for a few moments each day to read a story. Others may say we are wasting our time. But those of us who know the True Story understand that the books we read can lead to great discoveries and opportunities for growth. Hope, courage, adventure, sacrificial love, and a longing for home can be found within the pages of books. We may even find that a story leads us straight to the Great Author Himself.