{"id":1831,"date":"2016-08-10T10:48:17","date_gmt":"2016-08-10T08:48:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.iesuscaritas.org\/?p=1831"},"modified":"2016-11-01T21:05:26","modified_gmt":"2016-11-01T20:05:26","slug":"jacques-gaillot-felices-los-misericordiosos","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.iesuscaritas.org\/en\/documentos\/jacques-gaillot-felices-los-misericordiosos\/","title":{"rendered":"Jacques GAILLOT, Blessed are the Merciful"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/p>\n

If I were asked to draw mercy, how would I do it? A person approaches me with arms extended, with a face full of goodness and eyes that speak of the tenderness of his\/her heart.<\/p>\n

Mercy shows excess, disproportion, superabundance, gratuitousness\u2026 It goes beyond our pittances.<\/p>\n

It is no wonder that we are surprised and taken aback.<\/p>\n

Surpassing the logic of giving and receiving, it exceeds strict justice, expecting nothing in return.<\/p>\n

Mercy is Jesus\u2019 signature<\/strong>: a gift that exceeds all justice.<\/p>\n

In the Gospel, only women show evidence of superabundance!<\/p>\n

\u201cI love them so much I find them beautiful\u201d<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Some time ago I was invited to visit a home for people with severe disabilities. It was a house that lay on the outskirts of a town. The person who accompanied me through the different rooms was a priest. Normally he worked at night but he had to be there so that I could pay the visit.<\/p>\n

\"20160810_01\"<\/a>I passed disjointed bodies, broken faces that seemed covered with masks of ugliness. I found their screams unbearable.<\/p>\n

I was anxious and upset. The one accompanying me noted my unease, he looked at me and made this extraordinary statement that I have never forgotten:<\/p>\n

\u201cI love them so much I find them beautiful!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

This pierced my heart. A path opened before me to discover my fears and weaknesses. .<\/p>\n

I understood that loving is not doing something for someone, it is to discover that it is beautiful. Is happiness not knowing that one is beautiful in the eyes of others?<\/p>\n

This priest had a heart of \u201cflesh\u201d not a heart of \u201cstone\u201d. He didn\u2019t put up walls of fear to protect himself from others. He was free to approach them and love them. He could understand each disabled person: \u201cYou are important! I love you! With your wounds and your weaknesses, you can be great and be yourself\u201d<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t forgive\u201d.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

One afternoon, a woman I barely knew, begged me insistently to go to see a great friend of hers who was about to die in the Salp\u00eatri\u00e8re<\/strong>, the great Parisian hospital: she was suffering from Charcot joint disease (hereditary motor and sensory neuropathy).<\/p>\n

I refused: to go to the hospital to see a woman I didn\u2019t know and who was about to die; was difficult. Why? But the woman on the telephone ignored my reluctance.<\/p>\n

\u201cI beg you, come here\u201d<\/em>.<\/p>\n

I left everything and went to the hospital, with leaden feet and unwillingly: I knew nothing of this sick woman who was about to die, not even her name. Was she married? Was she a Christian? And if there were two patients in the room, which one was her?<\/p>\n

\"20160810_02\"<\/a>Knocking at the room door I stopped my questioning and put my trust in the Holy Spirit..<\/p>\n

I saw an enormous smile on the face of this woman with Charcot joint disease. The man at the foot of her bed was her husband. He left hurriedly.<\/p>\n

I found myself alone with this woman who was very thin and was unable to speak. She was writing on a small slate without pausing and showed me the slate. I liked what she wrote.<\/p>\n