"Mercy as the mere protection from punishment is unsatisfying. For mercy to have weight, it must come alongside the acknowledgement of real sin. Mercy must be aimed at helping the guilty repent and live differently, not just duck consequences. Hiding from justice is not the same as living abundantly in mercy. Pope Francis offered [Fr. Marko] Rupnik and [Bishop Gustavo Óscar] Zanchetta mercy, by a certain definition—he spared them from being punished. But this was not among Pope Francis’s admirable acts. These men may have needed reminding of God’s mercy to avoid despairing in their sin, because they had committed crimes that were greater than their own ability to make right. However, Francis did not care for their souls in the way a father should, by offering correction and admonition. Punishment, in these cases, is mercy.
Theodore Cardinal McCarrick, the notorious abuser of seminarians, managed to run out the clock on his court cases. He relied on protection from powerful friends to prey with impunity, and never faced a judge until he was too old and infirm to stand trial. The injustice to his victims is obvious. But the greatest sorrow of McCarrick’s escape for McCarrick is that none of his brother bishops seemed to value his soul, just his money and influence. They did not prepare him to repent and die in friendship with Christ.
Mercy is rooted in love, in willing the good of the guilty. It is active, not a quiet disavowal of judgement. Mercy begins with naming sin clearly, and then unbarring the doors for the guilty to rise, walk, and sin no more."
— Leah Libresco Sargeant: "Pope Francis’s Muddled Mercy"
