The Mercy Rule (also known by the lesser names of the Slaughter, Knockout, or Skunk Rule) is a concept familiar to kids, parents, and coaches across the nation.
My seven-year-old knows what it means, even if it only exists in his mind within the context of baseball. He understands that if a team scores six runs in an inning, there’s an automatic change of sides. Moreover, if a team gains a 15 run lead on their opponent, the game is called and the teams line up for high fives. For those on the winning side (both kids and adults), there can be a tinge of disappointment for the curtailed streak of glory. Johnny doesn’t get another chance at bat or more playing time to hone their skills. Yet, when (not if) your kid finds themselves on the losing end, this rule comes as a true mercy to the humiliation and suffering that can come from such a rout.
I appreciate that my child can experience this introductory level of mercy because, let me tell you, the lessons of mercy as you get older will bring you to your knees. I found myself deeply moved while reading “Just Mercy” by Bryan Stevenson, a profound exploration of the injustices within our criminal justice system that specifically calls into question human fallibility in determining punishment. He tells story after heartbreaking story of the wrongly accused, juveniles with life sentences for non-homicides, how the lives of the victim and offender are inextricably intertwined, and openly shares his own brokenness as the reason why he feels called to serve the most vulnerable and disadvantaged. He humbly admits, “I do what I do because I’m broken too.”
Reflecting upon his transgressions, Bryan writes, “I thought of the little boy who hugged me outside of church, creating reconciliation and love. I didn’t deserve reconciliation or love in that moment, but that’s how mercy works. The power of just mercy is that it belongs to the undeserving. It’s when mercy is least expected that it’s most potent - strong enough to break the cycle of victimization and victimhood, retribution and suffering. It has the power to heal the psychic harm and injuries that lead to aggression and violence, abuse of power, mass incarceration.”
As I sit in the stands of my son’s baseball game, I watch as his teammate lobs a high fly ball deep into the outfield and it reminds me of that crushing yet hopeful line from Martin Luther King Jr. about the arc of the moral universe being long, but bending towards justice. The opposing team scrambles to recover the ball, but not before more runs are scored. The Mercy Rule has already been invoked twice, once for each team. At this moment, I can’t fully convey to those around me that I’m tearing up because I’ve read a most remarkable and haunting book. A book that I’d go so far to call life-changing in the way it has opened my heart to the essential need for everyone to have a Mercy Rule — a chance to live in dignity, regardless of our performance on and off the field.
