Quality of Mercy

As teenagers, April, Robert, and I were classmates and friends. we lived in the very nice suburbs of Westchester, New York. April came from a good family. So, it was all the more shocking when it was reported she had used a gun to shoot herself in the head outside, on the steps of Grand Central Station. It was a violent death, for someone who had never previously been violent. Robert, my kind, loving, and gentle friend threw himself in front of the Metro-North train. He was killed, horrifically.

Robert came to be known by some in the local and national media as the last of the Westchester Suicides. That year, a long string of teenagers from Westchester County had committed suicide in consecutive order. Though their deaths were not coordinated, the general public wondered if there were a connection, other than the obvious connection of having lived in the same geographic area.

April had cried out for help. Her family responded by institutionalizing her. April had just wanted to be heard, not locked up in a heartless facility. She ran away. And, like so many homeless teenage runaways, she fell prey to the underworld. In a final effort to escape the pimp that had so decimated her life, she shot herself.

In death, her desperate cry for help had finally been heard. The New York Times magazine wrote a special feature on her. April would have liked seeing her photo in the paper. Robert had also been prominently featured in the papers.

Their deaths have haunted me throughout my life, inspiring me to reach out to those in pain, or in crisis. I felt guilty for many years, because both April and Robert had reached out to me for help, but at the time, I had chosen to ignore the signs. "I'm too busy with my problems," I remember saying to myself. Thereby, justifying my indifference.


It is always so much easier to criticize others for their lack of mercy. Did I kill April and Robert? Had I pulled the trigger of April's gun? Had I pushed Robert into the on-coming train? No, of course not!

But, silent indifference can be just as unmerciful, just as deadly, as the most deadly act.


Let us be Mercy itself, within balance, to all those who come across our path.

The spiritual path is not a selfish or self-serving path. Whatever spiritual gifts one nurtures, or accumulates, must be freely shared. In this way, we all benefit. We all grow. We all heal. We are One.