Divine Mercy

by Grace Jackson

The pain in my left arm is unbearable, becoming increasingly impossible to ignore. I sit at my desk and stare intently at the blank word document pulled up on the computer screen. Come on, I tell myself, this paper is due Monday morning, you have to focus. I close my eyes for a moment and take a few deep breaths to try to relax. It doesn't help. Finally I start to type, but every time my left hand moves to strike the keys, pain shoots up through my arm. It seems as though my arm is never free from the pain, and my mind is never free from thinking about it. Tonight it is particularly difficult to suffer through.

I hear someone fiddling with the key and lock outside. The door to our little college dorm room swings open, and my roommate walks in. Today her dark blonde waves are pulled back into a braid, and she is dressed casually in jeans and a purple sweatshirt. She slides her backpack off her slender shoulders and plops down on her bed with a sigh.

"How was studying at the library, Eva?" I mutter as I continue to gaze at my word document, now filled with a whole four sentences. Ignore the pain, you're fine, just keep typing.

"Good, I feel pretty ready for my economics test on Monday. How are you?" She asks with such sincerity that I feel like I have to turn around and look at her in order to respond. I tear my eyes away from my paper and spin around on my desk chair to face her. I meet her dark brown eyes.

"Great, just got to finish this paper."

Eva's brown eyes suddenly soften and her brow furrows in concern. "Are you sure you are alright? You look a bit pale, have you been crying?" She asks as she gets up off her bed. She takes her desk chair and rolls it over to where I am. When she sits down our knees are almost touching.

"Oh yeah, fine, a bit stressed, that's all" I lie as I try to look anywhere but her brown eyes. Don't let on, she can't help, she can't stop the pain. It shouldn't even hurt this much anyway, you probably just have a low pain tolerance.

"I am not sure I believe you, are you positive you don't want to talk?" In an effort to comfort me she reaches out and gently places her right hand on the black sweatshirt sleeve covering my left arm.

"Ah" I yelp, as I draw my left arm back and cradle it with my right. My reaction startles Eva, and she looks more concerned than ever. "I am fine, really, I… I… just need some air, I think I'll go on a walk."

"But it's nearly eleven, why don't I come with you."

"No, no, I'll be fine, really, don't worry" I try to say as casually I can. I look at Eva and give the most genuine smile I can muster. Still, she doesn't look convinced. Before she can ask anymore questions, I hop up from my desk chair, grab my keys, and run out the door.

Its eleven on a Saturday night, so the dimly lit corridor of my dorm is filled with people meeting up to go out. Girls adjust their tight-fitting mini skirts and wobble on their four inch heels as they walk down the hall to meet their friends. The smell of hairspray and the excited squealing of girl's voices fill the air. Like usual, I stand out in my blue jeans, black sweatshirt, and red high tops. I manage to make my way to the exit and step out into the night.

The air is cool, reminding me that spring has not yet come to stay. I step out onto the patio of my dorm and look out across the moonlit quad. The four dorms are all red brick, and they share a grassy space covered with trees, benches, and different pathways. It is all very picturesque. The quad is bustling with people on their way to parties, and the air is filled with laughter and the smell of alcohol and cologne.

I step off the patio and start walking on a path that leads out of the residential quad towards the university. Unlike the slightly tipsy party goers, I walk with purpose and determination. My pace is quick, and my eyes are fixed ahead of me. Where am I going? I don't know, but it feels good to be going somewhere.

I walk past academic buildings and dining halls, each one red brick with a carefully manicured front lawn. With each step the pain in my left arm worsens. Why is it so bad tonight? I quicken my pace, hoping that will get my mind off the pain. I try to think of something else, anything else, but the pain has become so intense I can think of nothing else. I feel as though I am losing control. My skin becomes clammy and a bead of sweat rolls down my temple.

A drop of rain gently falls on my head. And then another, and another, until it is raining at a steady pace. Great, just what I need. Afraid of getting drenched and catching a cold, I look around to see if there is some building in which I can take refuge. I look to my right, academic buildings. To my left across the street, a dining hall. Dangit, both of those will be closed at this time of night. I gaze through the rain up ahead beyond the academic buildings, and can just barely make out the sign on the building, Divine Mercy Catholic Church. Man, I've wandered far if I am already at the church. I know Divine Mercy is always open for prayer, maybe I could just slip in until the rain stops. It's either that or a twenty minute walk back to the dorm…

I put my hood up, and jog to the church. It stands out among all the red brick buildings, for it is grey stone, built in a gothic style, with a beautiful rose window. The enormous wooden door opens with a creak, and I step inside.

The door shuts behind me, forcing me to face the deafening silence that fills the sanctuary. It is pitch dark, I can barely make out the pews on either side of the center aisle. The only light in the entire church is a spotlight shining on the altar at the very front. The altar is covered with what looks like a beautiful table cloth, white with lace at the ends. Atop the alter is something beautiful, unlike anything I have ever seen. It is a circular golden container on top of a golden base and stand. It is incredibly ornate and decorative, with golden spindles shooting out of the circular container, making it look like a little sun illuminating the entire church. The container holds at its center a white wafer, a piece of bread the size of a Ritz cracker.

Oh, I think that I learned about this in comparative religion class. Catholics believe that the bread that they take during communion (oh what do they call it, Eucharist?) is actually Jesus. And this must be adoration! I know it is a common practice for Catholics to place the Eucharist in a monstrance and pray before it.

I do not really know what I believe about God, I don't even know if He is real, but something about the silent sanctity of this space makes me think that I should be reverent. And there is something almost magnetic about the glittering golden monstrance. I can't take my eyes off of it, it is pulling me in.

Next thing I know I am sitting in the very front pew. Something tells me I should kneel, and so I extend my left arm to lower the kneeler. Excruciating pain shoots up through my arm. Ah, I had almost forgotten. I fall to my knees and bow my head, trying to clear my mind of the throbbing in my arm.

I haven't prayed since I was young, but I can't shake the feeling that God is very present here. If there was ever a time to pray, it seems like it would be now. But what are you supposed to say again?

"Hey God," I start. The sound of my voice pierces the silence and I am startled by its echo. "I know we haven't talked in a while. Just wanted to say thanks for all the good stuff in my life, maybe ask for some help writing my paper, it is really giving me a hard time. So yeah, don't really know what else to say…"

All the sudden my left arm starts to burn, it feels like it is on fire. I cannot take it anymore, my breath starts to quicken and I can feel myself start to panic. I pull my gaze away from the monstrance, close my eyes, and try to breathe deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth. You are fine.

After a few moments I have calmed down. The pain seems manageable, and so I open my eyes again, expecting to see the monstrance. But the monstrance is gone, instead there is a man standing just in front of the altar. He is not that tall, maybe 5'10", with shaggy black hair that falls just above his shoulders and a beard cropped closely to his face. He has the tan of a man who has worked outside all of his life, and I can tell his hands and feet are calloused from hard labor. He is wearing a maroon tunic tied at the waist, but his most distinct feature is his eyes. They are a deep green, and they shine with tenderness and strength. He holds my gaze.

We stay like this for a moment, just looking at each other. And then he walks towards me until he is standing just in front of the front pew where I am kneeling. My eyes are still locked on his, I cannot look away. "You are hurt" he says tenderly, as he gestures to my left arm.

"No…uh….no, I am fine. Really, I am fine." I am trying to convince myself just as much as I am trying to convince him.

With one hand he holds my left hand, and with the other he gently starts to roll up the sleeve of my black sweatshirt. "No…no" I meekly whimper, but I cannot seem to summon the strength to pull my arm back.

My sweatshirt is now rolled up to my elbow, and you can see that my forearm is clumsily wrapped in gauze. The home-made bandage has clearly not been changed for awhile, and the gauze is stained brown and yellow with seep.

He carefully begins to unwrap the gauze. With each layer gone the pain increases, "Ah" I weakly cry out, yet I do not try to stop him. He finally finishes unwrapping the gauze and drops it on the ground next to the pew. I look down at my forearm and once again see my wound, the wound that is constantly causing me pain, constantly on my mind. It is a gash extending from my wrist to my elbow. It is scabbed over, but is clearly infected. Yellowish brown liquid oozes out of the cracks of the dark red scab, and the skin around it is bright pink.

His eyes meet mine once again. I feel myself start to panic. " I did it to myself, I did it to myself. You don't have to do anything, it's fine, really, it's fine. I'll take care of it…" Tears stream down my face and I shake my head frantically, yet still he holds my gaze.

His eyes are full of compassion and pity as he places his hand on the wound. "Ahhhhh" I shriek louder than ever. The pain is dizzying. He lifts his hand from the wound, only to place it there again. I scream even louder, begging him to stop. Again, he lifts his hand from the wound and places it there one more time. It remains there for only a moment, a moment that feels like a lifetime. The rest of my body writhes in pain as a I cry out, I don't know if I can take it any longer.

And finally he takes his hand away, this time for good. Relief at last. Both of my hands have a firm grip on the little wall in front of me. I gasp for breathe as beads of sweat roll down my face. I stay like this for a few moments until I begin to calm down. I look down at my left arm. It no longer hurts, the wound is gone and all that is left is a faint scar.

"Ding dong" the sound of the church bells reverberate through the entire sanctuary, signifying that it is midnight and Sunday has arrived.

So long I have been used to the hurt, but now it is gone, I am liberated. I am amazed, and I smile as I look up in order to thank the man. I meet his green eyes again, but this time his appearance has changed. His maroon robe is now a sparkling white, so pure it is shining. His face, too, appears to be almost glowing, as bright as a flash of lightening. A crown sits atop his head, and his arms are outstretched. I can see that there are scars in the form of holes in both of his hands. I have never seen anything so beautiful. His whole being radiates glory, and I immediately forget whatever I was going to say. All I can manage to mutter is, "My Lord, and My God". I bow my head and adore the king of the universe.

For the first time in my life, my thoughts are not about me; all of my energy is focused on God who is before me. I worship, perhaps for hours, or maybe just for a few minutes, time does not seem important. Eventually I look up again, only to see the monstrance sitting atop the altar. The light makes the gold shine and radiate with glory. I continue my worship for a few more moments, focused on the little white wafer contained within the monstrance, focused on Jesus Christ.

Eventually I get up, bow before the monstrance, and start walking down the center aisle towards the door. I feel 1,000 pounds lighter, I feel free. I reach the wooden door, open it, and step outside. The rain is falling in torrents now, but I do not care. I stretch out my arms, and for the first time in years it does not hurt. I can barely contain my joy, I look up to the sky and smile as the rain soaks my white sweatshirt.

"In my deepest wound I saw your glory and it astounded me"

-St. Augustine