Sunday Readings for April 11-12, Second Sunday of Easter (or Sunday of Divine Mercy)
By Lyn Zahorik | For On Mission
Welcome, friends, to Divine Mercy Sunday — which could also be known as “Be Like Jesus Sunday.” It’s the day when the Church reflects on Jesus’ incomprehensible, “simply divine” mercy and then gently suggests that we act likewise. I find that to be a big suggestion, considering Jesus forgave people as he was dying on the Cross. I sometimes need a full 48 hours and a snack before I can forgive someone for being mildly annoying.
But “divine” is a word that should make us pause, make us stop mid‑stride. It is a word that reminds us that we are dealing with something far beyond our usual spiritual skill set. It stretches us, unsettles us, and reminds us that God’s mercy is not simply a nicer, shinier version of our own. It is something altogether different — something we cannot manufacture, rehearse, or fake with a polite smile.
We call God’s mercy “divine” because it comes from a place we cannot grasp. Divine mercy is not simply “really good mercy.” It is mercy that does not need applause, doesn’t need to be right, and doesn’t need to be noticed. It’s mercy that doesn’t keep score, doesn’t keep receipts, and doesn’t mutter, “Well, I hope you appreciate what I’m doing here.”
We can imitate divine mercy, lean toward it, practice it, even hunger for it — but if we’re honest, our mercy tends to come with a small administrative fee. We want to be gracious, but we also want to be right. We say we’re offering compassion, but we’re secretly hoping the other person will apologize first. We want to forgive, but we also want the other person to know how hard we’re working to forgive them. We want to be holy, but we also want credit for the effort.
And yet — divine mercy doesn’t shame us for these patterns. God doesn’t do an eye roll and say, “Really? That’s the best you can do?” Divine mercy simply invites us to notice what we’re doing and then gently set it down. It invites us to stop performing mercy and start receiving it.
Because once we’ve received mercy — the real kind, the divine kind — we can’t help but pass it on, even if our version can be a little lopsided, a little wobbly, and all so often, inconsistent.
And here’s the miracle: God keeps offering divine mercy. Not because we’ve earned it, not because we’ve perfected it, but because God knows we’re trying. God sees our messy, well‑intentioned, clumsy attempts; our earnest failures; and our occasional triumphs and says, “Yes. This. Keep going.”
Maybe that’s the most divine thing of all. And maybe the most divine thing we can do is simply show up — honest, imperfect, willing — and let God’s mercy do what mercy does: transform us from the inside out, one stumble, one small surrender, one “Be Like Jesus” moment at a time.
The readings for Sunday, April 12, can be found at Second Sunday of Easter (or Sunday of Divine Mercy) | USCCB.