When I was a kid, we were compelled like most kids then to do a lot of things that we didn't quite understand. For example, we had to memorize an awful lot of material, especially in religion class. In those days, the
Baltimore Catechism reigned supreme surprisingly here in Canada, and we dutifully memorized every single page.
After a while, content became superfluous like memorizing Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows. Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows. He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell; Though he'd often say in his homely way that he'd sooner live in hell.
Probably everyone my age knows Robert Service's poem,
The Cremation of Sam McGee, off by heart. My dad memorized many of Service's poems, and particularly after he had had a nip, it didn't take much prodding to get him to launch into
Yukon Jake was a hopeless rake and other such lusty recitals. Would you believe that in his time, it was common practice for people to entertain themselves by reciting the spoken word? And they weren't limited to 124 characters as with Twitter.
My mother was quite pleased to listen to my incessant religious recitations, but father was not as keen. I asked him once why he didn't attend church, and he told me that it was hard to believe in God when you lived in railroad boxcars. Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath was lived by many of my Dad's generation.
And this dear reader brings me to the works of mercy. Yes, we had to memorize them also. The Works of Mercy or Acts of Mercy are actions and practices which Christianity in general and the Roman Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church in particular consider expectations to be fulfilled by believers, and which are also recognized as spiritual aids.
Mercy was said to be a virtue that influenced one's will to have compassion for, and, if possible, alleviate another's misfortune. There were two kinds, corporal and spiritual. The corporal works of mercy are: to feed the hungry; give drink to the thirsty; clothe the naked; harbour the harbourless; visit the sick; ransom the captive and bury the dead.
The spiritual works of mercy are: to instruct the ignorant; counsel the doubtful; admonish sinners; bear wrongs patiently; forgive offences willingly; comfort the afflicted; pray for the living and the dead.
My guess is that 99.9 of Christians would currently fail a comprehensive works of mercy test. In my own case, I recently practised the corporal work of mercy involving visiting the sick. I drove to
Douglas Memorial Hospital in Fort Erie which was depressing in itself. In its hey day, this little hospital was a splendid beacon of hope for the community assisted by grateful service clubs that poured hundreds of thousands of dollars into its operation. Now it's gutted and the common room is just that. My friend got to watch the hockey playoffs on a 13-inch prehistoric cathode ray tube TV set that might qualify as a museum find.
When I arrived, nine patients in wheelchairs were assembled in the aforementioned common room, and most seem transfixed. The person responsible was a local man named
Paul Stoddard. Once a month, Paul brings his musical voice and guitar and sings and plays for these patients. Paul is heavy duty into works of mercy. With a gentle, amusing manner, he strummed away and produced many smiles. I observed one octogenarian lady tap her foot and clap her hands the entire time, and she levitated from her chair to dance the final song.
Paul took requests and played a Gordon Lightfoot number as well as the Eagles'
Peaceful Easy Feeling for my friend Gord. It seemed appropriate. The staff and patients drifted into that same reverie while Paul did his thing, always in a happy, courteous manner. When it comes to works of mercy, Paul Stoddard is a neat guy. We could use more of his kind in our busy world.