Third Tuesday of Lent
10 March 2026
Mercy Received, Mercy Given
As we enter this second phase of Lent, the Church gives these readings especially to prepare the Elect for baptism and to remind all of us who have already received it what baptism demands. Having received God’s immense mercy there, the Christian life now means allowing that living spring of mercy to overflow from us—especially in the way we forgive.
As Lent moves forward, the Scriptures begin pressing deeper into what conversion actually looks like. Earlier in the season we heard about repentance, humility, sincerity of heart. But now the Word of God begins to show us the concrete demand that flows from mercy itself. If we receive God’s mercy, it must change the way we treat others. That is the heart of today’s readings.
The passage from Daniel places us inside one of the most moving prayers in the Old Testament. The people of Israel are in exile. Their temple is destroyed. Their sacrifices have ceased. Everything that once defined their religious life has collapsed. And Daniel stands before God with nothing left to offer. He says, in effect: We have no temple. We have no sacrifices. We have no offerings worthy of you. All he has left is honesty. A humble heart. A contrite spirit. And he asks God to accept that instead.
What Daniel understands is something very important: when all the outward structures of religion are stripped away, what remains is the heart that turns to God in trust.
And that prepares us perfectly for the Gospel.
Peter comes to Jesus with what seems like a generous question. “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive? As many as seven times?” In Jewish teaching, forgiving someone three times was already considered generous. Peter doubles it and adds one more for good measure. He probably expects approval.
Instead, Jesus explodes the scale completely. “Not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” In other words, forgiveness in the Kingdom of God is not counted.
And then Jesus tells a parable that reveals why.
A servant owes the king an unimaginable debt. It is a sum so large it could never realistically be repaid. When he begs for patience, the king does something shocking. He forgives everything. The debt disappears in a single moment of mercy. No repayment necessary.
But then that same servant encounters someone who owes him a tiny fraction by comparison. And suddenly the man who begged for mercy becomes merciless. He seizes the other servant, demands payment, and throws him into prison.
The contrast is painful. A man forgiven infinitely refuses to forgive a little.
And that is when the king speaks again. “Should you not have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?”
That question reaches directly into our lives.
Because the Christian life always begins with the recognition that we are the first servant. We are the ones who have received mercy we could never repay. That is the truth Lent keeps returning to again and again. And that truth becomes even clearer as we move into this stage of the season.
In the weeks ahead the Church will prepare the Elect—those who will be baptized at Easter. They are approaching the waters of baptism where God pours His mercy into their lives in a new and extraordinary way.
But these readings are not only for them. They are also for all of us who have already passed through those waters.
Because baptism does not only wash away sin. It begins a new way of living. It plants within us a living spring of divine mercy. To live our baptism faithfully means allowing that mercy to overflow from us.
That is the point of the parable. The forgiven must become forgiving. If mercy stops with us, something has gone wrong.
The prayers of this day echo that same truth. We ask that God’s grace never abandon us, because without His help we fall back into old patterns. We ask that the sacrifice offered here cleanse us of our faults. We ask that God drive away the sins that continue to attack us.
Why?
Because mercy received must become mercy lived. Every gift from God is meant to be shared. And forgiveness is the testing ground.
It is easy to speak about mercy in theory. It is harder when someone has wronged us. When the wound is real. When pride whispers that justice means repayment.
But Jesus insists that the logic of the Kingdom is different.
In the world, debts must be balanced. In the Kingdom, mercy breaks the cycle. Because we forgive not because others deserve it, but because we have already received more mercy than we could ever deserve.
That is why Lent brings us again and again to humility. A humble heart remembers the debt that was forgiven. A humble heart refuses to imprison others in the very chains God removed from us.
And that is how mercy becomes real. Not as a theory. Not as a slogan. But as a life shaped by the grace we have received.