We read in the Sermon on the Mount, "How blest are those who show mercy; mercy shall be shown to them" (Matt. 5.7). The inner manifestation of mercy is a loosening of the grip of hard resentment. While one is in that resentful condition there can be no free outflowing of oneself to the surrounding world, for one is locked in a self-erected prison. As a result of this self-inflicted isolation one can receive little of the care of those around one; they are effectively locked out of one's personal life. And so, by extension, is God also, with the result that the life-giving Holy Spirit is slowly withdrawn from one. It is no wonder that the fifth Beatitude sees that the bestowal of mercy is the inevitable precondition of obtaining it: once we are open in forgiveness we are immediately available to the mercy of God and of our fellows also.

The principle is similar to the familiar clause of the Lord's Prayer, "Forgive us the wrong we have done, as we have forgiven those who have wronged us" (Matt. 6.12). So the ball lies primarily at our own feet: until we have made the first move we cannot receive the divine pardon. This is not because God is recalcitrant and implacable, but because we are creatures with God-given free will which the Almighty will not override, no matter how strong the divine compassion may be for the feeble creature. How then can the impasse be breached, that it is God from whom all merciful forgiveness flows, and yet we have to initiate events?

The answer lies in our own disposition. We have first to desire to forgive, and this usually follows a sequence of events in which we have clearly done wrong or else have been in some kind of invidious, if not hazardous, situation and have been mercifully assisted by another person. This may have been a complete stranger or a disinterested colleague, or even (and most pertinently) the very person against whom we have borne the grudge. At once the bar across our own soul is unlocked and, in our relief, gratitude flows into us. It then flows out in a warmth of love that dismisses all past reservations as mere irrelevancies. The picture of the father of the Prodigal Son welcoming home the scapegrace is the perfect example: in his overflowing joy he wants only to celebrate and will hear no apologies or other expressions of repentance. The father's pain at the loss of his son was as great as the boy's pain in the throes of his destitution (Luke 15.11-32).

As St Paul puts it, "All alike have sinned, and are deprived of the divine splendour, and all are justified by God's free grace alone" (Rom. 3.23-4). He goes on to explain this restoration of right relationship with God through God's own act of liberation in the person of his Son Christ Jesus. God was indeed in Christ reconciling the world to himself (2 Cor. 5.19). This reconciliation Christ effected by taking upon himself all the world's sin and pain, which he lifted up to the light of God's love when he was crucified and then resurrected to eternal life. And so we learn the meaning of mercy as we ourselves are rescued from death or dishonour by a miracle of grace.

Having said all this, it is nevertheless true that we do not escape the consequences of wrongful actions; God is not to be fooled, for a man reaps what he sows (Gal. 6.7). But the agent is now God and not the human: "Justice is mine, says the Lord, I will repay" (Rom. 12.19). "There's a wideness in God's mercy, like the wideness of the sea", as Frederick Faber puts it in a well-known hymn; and God's care never leaves the repentant sinner while paying the inevitable price for the misdemeanour. There emerges from the pit of self-imposed suffering a stronger, more compassionate person.

I thank you, Lord, for your unceasing patience in forgiving my many faults, and I pray that the light of your love will help me to erase the grudges and dark thoughts that so often cloud the charity of my soul.