Just

One of my daughters, when overcome with admittedly trivial, first-world crises, will often say, "I want to die in a hole" as an expression of protest.  It has been three months since I last posted so I want to say that I have not died in a hole.  Just a summer hiatus.

My children are now grown or nearly grown but I remember clearly one of the great cries of childhood, "It's not fair!"  This cry of protest can be easily evoked in any group of children - even two will do - by giving one of the crowd a larger piece of cake.  The magic of this is that the piece of cake need not actually be larger as long as at least one of the crowd perceives that it is.  Or has more interesting frosting.  Or is more desirable in a way that you have not even imagined. The cry goes up - "It's not fair"- railing against gross injustice.

Continuing with the idea of trivial, first-world crises, the cake scenario is a perfect example.  However it does serve to illustrate an almost innate desire for justice we have even at a young age.  Even recognizing that "it's not fair!" is, when translated, only "I don't like it", nonetheless the appeal is for justice or fairness.  At an early age we have a sense that things should be "fair."

And for most that continues into adulthood.  Many fight for societal justice in the face of many great injustices.  There are heroes of this fight - famous, like Rosa Parks, and unsung like folks I know who intentionally move to the poorest part of town to get involved in those communities.  The fight for justice is often quiet and gracious like this.  But it is also often strident and loud.  The Arab Spring is an example of the latter.

But I always come back to the cry, "It's not fair!"  The protest is to address the problem we see in the world or in our social structure.  The problem outside of ourselves.  I was arrested when I read this in the psalms last week:

For the Lord is righteous; he delights in righteous deeds, and the just shall see his face. 
(Psalm 11:8 1979 American BCP translation)

It is not those who fight for or care about justice who shall see his face, but those who are just themselves.  This is not a critique of the brave and loving souls who strive for justice in the world.  It is  a part of our Christian lives.  In my Anglican tradition one of our baptismal promises is to strive for justice and respect the dignity of every human being.   But while I am striving for justice, am I just myself?  It is always easier to see the problem that "they" have.

Before we give vent to our anger at injustice around us, perhaps we should begin with the injustice within us.  Jesus tells us to take the log out of our own eye before we take the speck of dust out of our brother's.

What Psalm 11 did for me this past week is to make me ask not, "Is it fair?" but rather, "Am I fair?"  A good question to ask.

Curiosity

It is all beginning to fade with the passage of time, but I think that I recall that one of the things we corporately and officially valued at GE was curiosity.  To be perfectly accurate under the heading "Imagine" were the values "passionate" and "curious."  One must be careful with words however.  Curious is used to mean interested and inquisitive, seeking to understand or it can be a euphemism for "weird" - as in Alice's observations in Wonderland, "curiouser and curiouser."  In the former instance these two qualities together are metaphorical dynamite, in the latter, perhaps literal dynamite.

All told, curiosity is seen as something of great value.  Something that drives us to learn and explore.  But it strikes me that this was not always the understanding or use of the word.

Curiosity has not always been a virtue.  All of the older texts I read suggest that curiosity is a vice.  Curiosity killed the cat, we are told.  

John Calvin has a few things to say about curiosity, specifically the disciples' curiosity whether this was the moment Jesus would restore the kingdom to Israel.  The context here is the first chapter of Acts at the end of the 40 days between Jesus' resurrection and his ascension.  Now that Jesus has risen from the dead the disciples are anxious to know when the actual ruling a kingdom part starts.  God's plan for redemption in Jesus is much bigger than the political control of a piece of Middle Eastern soil (a much-coveted piece, to be sure, even to this day.)  The disciples don't quite get that yet.  But let us not be too hard on them.  I often have a pretty small and parochial vision of God's purposes so I have no stones to cast.

Jesus' response to the disciples in Acts 1 is this:
“It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by his own authority.  But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” (Acts 1:7)

In his comment on their question and Jesus' response Calvin describes the disciples as rude, deceived, and bad scholars "under so good a Master."*  It is always fun to read the reformers like Calvin and Luther.  There is a candor and bluntness that we see little of in the attempt to maintain civil discourse.  It might not always sound charitable, but you don't have to guess what they actually think.

But back to curiosity.  On Jesus' "It is not for you to know" response Calvin says this:

"This is a general reprehension (rebuke) of the whole question. For it was too curious for them to desire to know that whereof their Master would have them ignorant; but this is the true means to become wise, namely, to go as far forward in learning as our Master Christ goeth in teaching, and willingly to be ignorant of those things which he doth conceal from us. But forasmuch as there is naturally engendered in us a certain foolish and vain curiosity, and also a certain rash kind of boldness, we must diligently observe this admonition of Christ, whereby he correcteth both these vices."** (Emphases mine.)

Curiosity does not come off well with Calvin.  And there are two reasons, I think.  First, Calvin understands that some things are not any of our concern.  In the information age, we are quite used to knowing everything - or at least having the right to know everything.  Those who have gone before us didn't think that way.  We attach great value to being "in the know."  They didn't.  And subsequently, curiosity was not always seen as positive.

Second, Calvin's conviction that these things were not their, or our concern, is rooted in an understanding of Jesus as our Master, or our Lord.  By virtue of his position and authority over us, he doesn't owe us the complete plan in advance.  The hierarchical order in this tends to rub our egalitarian sensibilities the wrong way.  Not so Calvin, or his forebears.  Contained in his worldview was the notion that he is under the authority of others, primarily God.  Calvin and the rest of the reformers were no yes men.  They challenged the ecclesiastical authorities - which is why there was a Reformation.  But they retained the conviction that Lordship and authority remain good things, despite what had been done with them.

The Lord, because he is Lord, is free to reveal to us what he wants. It is foolish curiosity and rash boldness to demand more.  Doing so is questioning that Lordship - at least on some level.

As I reflect on these thoughts and others in past blogs, I feel rather like a 16th century reactionary looking back to the good old days - very old days.  I am reasonably fond of the 21st century.  But I am thankful for the perspectives that I read in older writers.  They are not always right.  My worldview is challenged by older ones - and it should be.

*Calvin's Commentaries - Acts 1:6 and following.
** Ditto, or Ibid if you want to be particular

Lessons from Travel

For a guy who grew up in a rural community of 500 (on a good day when no one had died), I have traveled a fair amount.  And I have learned from many of the experiences.  Some of those gleanings have been cultural or gustatory.  Some have been for me, and others, cautionary tales.  

Usually in an effort to save money (or do it on the cheap, depending on how you want to express it), I have found myself in interesting circumstances.   Outside an SNCF* stop (do not imagine anything close to a "station" as you read this) at 1:00 am at an abandoned taxi stand knowing that the only way I was getting a cab was if Jesus sent one.  (He did.)  Or sleeping with my luggage on the sidewalk at 2:00 am at the domestic airport in Delhi waiting among the slumbering Indians for my 6:30 flight to Bangalore.  Lesson: if you must be cheap, do it earlier in the day so you have time to find other options in case your brilliant idea isn't.

One other lesson I've learned is that you will not be able to find later the particular trinket or memento that you have in your hand right now.  This charming little shop is not as easy to find as you think.  The only reason you found it first is because it was on the way to somewhere else.  And you now forget the somewhere else. Or it wasn't even in the town you thought it was in. Or perhaps the shop itself has been physically assumed into heaven.  There are a hundred reasons to seize the opportunity while you have it.

It is not only when traveling that we assume there will be another, maybe better, opportunity to do the thing that presents itself to us right now.  I am ceaselessly optimistic.  Or ceaselessly procrastinating.

Francis Thompson, 19th Century English poet, wrote The Hound of Heaven.  In it a hare recounts his efforts to avoid the hound, who is God.  The poem recounts the experience of being sought by God and  our attempts to avoid his pursuit.  I have always like the image of God who relentlessly pursues us.  It reminds me of the father of the prodigal son in Jesus' parable.  And of God's continued pursuit of the people of Israel throughout the Old Testament.  It is comforting to know that he seeks us.

But here I come to the other side of this relationship.  Not his seeking of us but ours of him.  The scriptures continually exhort us to seek the Lord.**  But there is a good time to seek the Lord.

"Seek the Lord while he may be found;
call upon him while he is near;
let the wicked forsake his way,
and the unrighteous man his thoughts;
let him return to the Lord, that he may have compassion on him,
and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon."
(Isaiah 55:6-7)

Seek the Lord while he may be found.  He cannot always be found, it seems.  We ceaseless optimists and procrastinators should take note.  In this he is not unlike the above mentioned charming little shop.   He may not be obviously found later.  I am slightly disturbed by this notion.  Surely God can always be found if we will but look.  I'd like to think that, but here the Scriptures tell us something different.  We read it here in Isaiah but also in Paul's second letter to the Corinthians:

"Working together with him, then, we appeal to you not to receive the grace of God in vain. For he says,
'In a favorable time I listened to you,
and in a day of salvation I have helped you.'
Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation."
(2 Corinthians 6:1-2 ESV)

There are opportunities to respond to God, to trust him, to live in obedience to him, which have an expiry date.  That does not necessarily mean that there will be no such opportunity in the future.  But it does mean that THIS one will not present itself again.

You might find what you are looking for again if you go back looking.  But you might not.  With God, now is the favorable time.  Now is the day of salvation.


*Société Nationale des Chemins de Fer - France's (better) version of Amtrak or Via Rail.
** Some examples: Deuteronomy 4:29, I Chronicles 16:11, Isaiah 55:6, Proverbs 8:17, Jeremiah 29:13, Matthew 6:33

Functional heresy

When I worked at GE, for a while one of my teams was based in the Netherlands.  This is an aside but have you ever thought how onomastically greedy this nation is?  It might be called the Netherlands as mentioned above or perhaps Holland and its people are known as the Dutch.  I come from the proper-name impoverished country of Canada and only have one proper name to call my own  (and "Canadian" -- the same word again).  But this is not a critique of that fine European nation.  I'll get back to my tale.

One of the interesting things about managing the team in Holland was that there appeared to be a statutory holiday for all the Dutch (there, I've used all three) about every week.  At least it seemed that way.  One time when there was some deadline about which I was nervous, my anxiety became higher when I discovered that the Monday coming was a holiday.  The team manager there told me it was Pentecost and, knowing that I came from across the pond and would likely have no idea what that was, proceeded to tell me that it was when the Holy Spirit came down on the Church.

It is somewhat ironic the European, from that pagan continent (at least by reputation), felt the need to tell the guy living in the "one nation under God" what the holiday was.  I am happy to report that I knew the feast before I received the unnecessary but much appreciated elucidation.

But how many of us do know that Sunday -- this Sunday coming -- is Pentecost?  And why might we care?  I have in this space previously expressed my appreciation of the pedagogical and devotional value of paying attention to the Church calendar - its feasts and seasons.  And it's not because such observance is necessary or required, but because I find it helpful.

The yearly observance of Pentecost is particularly helpful because it is really the only feast day that is dedicated to the third person of the Trinity, namely the Holy Spirit.  This is where I get to the "why I might care part."

The work of the Father as Creator is pretty clearly understood.  The atoning and redemptive work of Jesus, the Son, is also quite clear - it is perhaps the thing we talk and teach about most.  And rightly so. But what about the Holy Spirit?  What does He do?  And why does He matter?

Number one on my incredibly short list of why He matters is that He is God.  Christians have through the centuries affirmed the mystery of the Trinity, three Persons, one God.  The Athanasian Creed (the poor cousin of the more prominent Apostles' and Nicene Creeds) says this:

And the catholic faith is this: That we worship one God in Trinity, and Trinity in Unity; Neither confusing the Persons; nor dividing the Essence... So the Father is God; the Son is God; and the Holy Spirit is God. (emphasis mine)

It is not that we don't intellectually acknowledge this truth.  Whenever we say the more prominent Creeds we acknowledge this.  But practically, in our life, worship and devotion, do we pay any attention to the Paraclete?

Many years ago now, I came to the shocking realization that I was a functional Binitarian.  The Father I  understood (albeit imperfectly), and similarly the Son.  And more to the point, I trusted the Father and the Son.  The Holy Spirit, not so much.  This was perhaps because I was turned off by enthusiastically charismatic Christians and decided to avoid the whole matter of the Person and work of the Spirit.  My way seemed so much more "decent and in order."

This brings me to a quick digression.  It is so easy for us to use the excuse of the bad witness of nutty charismatic or hard judgmental Christians (or some other flavor distasteful to us) to stay in our comfortable place where we need not seriously consider God's call and claim on our life.  And it is an excuse.  When I give account of myself one day before the only One who is worthy to judge, I'm not sure that "those Christians were crazy or harsh or narrow-minded or unintellectual" will fly.  His response to me might be, "And your point is?"  God's call to us is exactly that -- God's call.

So back to being the functionally heretical Binitarian.  When I came to this realization, there was only one course of action.  Repentance.  "Lord God, I do not trust you.  Forgive me."  There is no prettier way of saying it than that.

I am happy to live as an now both intellectually and functionally orthodox Christian, giving praise to God the Father, Creator of heaven and earth and to God the Son, Jesus, Redeemer and to God the Holy Spirit, Advocate, Comforter, Gift-giver, Sanctifier, Truth-teller.

Whenever I feel afraid

My wife, Tamara, did her undergraduate degree at the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design (NSCAD, or "Nasscad" as it is more familiarly known).  There is a gallery associated with it called The Anna Leonowens Gallery.  Mrs. Leonowens was a founder of the college in 1887 (although it was then named the Victoria College of Art and Design after the famous queen of that name).  This, I am sure you would think, is accomplishment enough for one life.  But not so for Mrs. Leonowens.  She lived in Halifax (Nova Scotia) after her Asian travels during which she spent some time at the royal court of Siam.  It was that gig that made her the inspiration for the musical The King and I. 

What I remember from the musical is, well, the music.  And Yul Brynner's bald head.  "Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera" also springs back to mind.  But back to the music.  One of the peppy little numbers is "I Whistle a Happy Tune."  Here's a sample of the lyrics:

Whenever I feel afraid
I hold my head erect
And whistle a happy tune
So no one will suspect
I'm afraid.

While shivering in my shoes
I strike a careless pose
And whistle a happy tune
And no one ever knows
I'm afraid.

I cannot comment on whether this is an effective foil for fear as neither whistling nor "tune" are my strong points.  But I was reminded of this song while reading Psalm 56 this week.  The psalmist, like Anna, feels afraid.  He is trampled, oppressed and attacked.  Sadly, he did not have access to Deborah Kerr singing the above number so he takes another tack.

When I am afraid
I put my trust in you.
In God I trust; I shall not be afraid.
What can flesh do to me?
(Psalm 56:3-4, ESV)

No disrespect meant to Rodgers and Hammerstein, but I think the psalmist has a better plan. Much in our lives is beyond our control.  This invokes fear.  Much is unknown - such as everything that is going to happen to me from this point on, forever.   That may qualify as more than "much."  We feel afraid.  At times we are threatened or in actual peril.  The fear part we can't avoid.

But when I feel afraid, whistle a happy tune?  As cheering as it may be, the tune is not Good, True, Loving and Sovereign.  God is.

The collect for peace in the Book of Common Prayer prays it this way (emphasis mine):

O God who art the author of peace and lover of concord, in knowledge of whom stands our eternal life, whose service is perfect freedom: Defend us, thy humble servants, in all assaults of our enemies; that we, surely trusting in thy defense, may not fear the power of any adversaries; through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord.  

In God I trust, what can flesh do to me?

What indeed.

Apocryphal

I was reading from the Apocrypha* today.  Wait, isn't that, like, apocryphal?  What are you doing reading that?

Apocryphal has come to mean "from an unreliable source" and, more baldly, untrue or fabricated.  Can't trust that stuff - avoid it at all costs.  As Protestants we are at best, disinclined to read the texts of the Apocrypha, at worst, inclined to burn them.  How are we to think of these texts?

The Protestant Reformation sentiment around these texts is well-articulated in one of Anglicanism's 39 Articles of Religion (find them all here), number VI to be exact.  I will summarize as the sixth is a long one.  The articles enumerates the canonical (authoritative books of the Old Testament) and states that all the commonly received books of the New Testament are solid (I am sure St. Paul is relieved to have had this endorsement).  It also enumerates the books of the Apocrypha calling them "other books" following the usage of St. Jerome, who translated the Bible into Latin (the Vulgate).

Here (finally) is my summary: The Old and New Testaments contain everything necessary for salvation and we can teach as doctrine only what may be established from them. As to these other writings, they may be read for "example of life and instruction in manners" but cannot be used to establish doctrine.  Quite other than our usual avoidance or vilification.

I like to think of it like this.  We read other non-canonical texts for wisdom and understanding or even devotional edification.  Here is a smattering of examples from my favorites list: C.S. Lewis, Tim Keller, Oswald Chambers, Dorothy Sayers.  But there are others: Max Lucado and Beth Moore.  But, one might argue, these are modern authors.  That's different.  (Don't get me started on the appalling poverty of mind and spirit that results from reading only recent authors.) We read also John Calvin, Martin Luther, Brother Lawrence, Dante, St. John of the Cross, St. Teresa of Avila, St. Augustine, the Desert Fathers.  At least some do. Again a smattering.  

Except where these authors articulate the truth established in the canon of the Old and New Testaments, we cannot say that their teaching is necessary for salvation.  It isn't.  But it certainly can provide insight and encouragement from time to time.  We might find the same in the Apocrypha.

The Apocrypha is a collection of largely intertestamenal writings (authored between when Malachi put down his pen and whenever the first Gospel writer took up his.**)  

It includes, among others, books like Tobit -- an interesting account of a young man and his quest to save a woman who has a remarkable problem with losing husbands.  This one also includes Raphael, in tradition understood to be one of the seven Archangels.  This is, of course, apocryphal and cannot be understood as doctrine, so don't quote me on his heavenly status. Raphael's namesakes include the Renaissance artist and one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

We also find in these writings the story of the Maccabees, the Jewish brothers who overthrew the Selucid oppressors and reclaimed the Jewish temple for worship.  This is a helpful text in understanding intertestamental history, the establishment of the Jewish festival of Hanukkah, and also New Testament references to the Feast of the Dedication (Hanukkah, by any other name...)

Another one is entitled Bel and the Dragon, which sounds like a modern fantasy novel.  Or apparently a burgundy.   Its hero is Daniel, of lion's den fame.  It is actually two stories, one about Bel, the Babylonian counterpart to the Canaanite Baal, in which Daniel is the Jewish Hercule Poirot.  He is sleuth and shows that Bel is a false god.  In the Dragon part Daniel is the first dragon-slayer.  In this he is like Jesus, who crushes the serpent's head (see Genesis 3), and a precursor to St. George and Arthur's Knights.

I do draw a distinction between the Apocrypha and other writings such as the Gospel of Thomas, now in trendy resurgence in some circles.  The Gospel of Thomas and other texts have come to be known as the Gnostic Gospels.  Their resurgence is due, perhaps, to the growth of gnostic*** thought in the Church today.  Unlike the Apocrypha, these texts were rejected by those determining the canon of Scripture as teaching that which is contrary to the faith.  These ones I do avoid.

Today I read from the Apocrypha.  And something struck me.

There is for all one entrance into life and one way out. (Wisdom 7:6)

It comes in the context of the king reflecting on his origins and eventual ends and his commonality with all people.  It reminded me that earthly distinctions between persons are just that, earthly.  Our beginning and end make that clear.  It also reminded me that my life has a beginning and an end, like all others.  In the end it was to me an exhortation to humility.  Necessary for salvation?  No.  Helpful as I walk before God?  Absolutely.

*From the Greek αποκρυπτειν (apo-kryptein), to hide away, to obscure.  The root verb, κρυπτειν (kryptein), is also where we get the English word cryptic which also means obscure or hidden. I am not sure if Superman's home Krypton has also the same root.  Perhaps Jerry Seigel and Joe Shuster, in addition to being Hebrews, were Greek scholars.

**Yes, I know that Matthew appears first in the New Testament canon, but it is not certain that he was the first to write.  Most scholars think Mark's economical and "immediately" peppered text was first.  For that matter, We aren't sure that Malachi was the last of the Old Testament canon written, but you get my point.

***Gnosticism was one of the earliest heresies in the Church.  St. John's first epistle is a Christian defense against gnostic thought.  "God is light, in him there is no darkness at all" (I John 1:5) sounds like an inspired description of his nature.  It is, but it is also a clear polemic against the idea that within God there is a little bit of darkness - the yin/yang idea.  I am not a fan.

The Why of Mercy

We all, I hope, have been the recipients of mercy at some time or other,  moments in our lives when the axe should have fallen, but it did not.  This may have been because our error or transgression went unnoticed.  Or it may have been that the judge in the circumstance showed clemency.

There are a lot of reasons why a magistrate might exhibit leniency.  Perhaps we are first-time offenders. Or maybe there were "extenuating circumstances" which led to our poor decision or behavior.  Sometimes we experience mercy because we demonstrate real contrition.  (I say "real" contrition to contrast it with dramatic emotional displays intended to evoke sympathy.  Real contrition is not about the amplitude of our wailing but our change in behavior: "Bear fruit in keeping with repentance.")

I was reading Exodus 32 this week, the story of Aaron and the Israelites making a golden calf to worship because Moses is delayed on the mountain with God.  The story has a number of details which are so illustrative of our response to criticism or judgment as to be almost amusing.  Take, for example, Aaron's response to Moses' question, "What did this people do to you that you have brought such a great sin on them?"   

And Aaron said, “Let not the anger of my lord burn hot. You know the people, that they are set on evil. For they said to me, ‘Make us gods who shall go before us. As for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.’ So I said to them, ‘Let any who have gold take it off.’ So they gave it to me, and I threw it into the fire, and out came this calf.”  (Exodus 32:22-24 ESV)

In spite of the fact that I was left in charge and was intimately involved in this enterprise, I really had nothing to do with it.  These people, I mean, what can you do with them?  I did ask for their earrings and melted them -- nothing wrong in that. And out came this calf.

It's the "out came this calf" bit that gets me.  I suppose that there is some infinitesimal chance that a bunch of metal thrown into a fire  might melt and take the form of a calf, spontaneously, by itself, if the laws of physics were entirely different.  (I'm no smelter but I think molten metal left on its own tends to form a roundish puddle rather unlike a young bovine.)  But even given this chance, Aaron is busted as obviously someone noticed that he "fashioned it with a graving tool and made a golden calf." (v. 4)

It is either a) someone else's fault -- see the blame fest in Genesis 3 -- or b) something that just "happened" or c) both of the above.  These are attempts by us (and we are all like Aaron) to avoid the responsibility.  I have noticed even in conversation that we often say things like "I ended up going to a movie" or "ended up driving to Tijuana" or "ended up drinking 14 bottles of wine."  (All these are merely examples and I myself have never driven to Tijuana or consumed so much wine -- unless you are counting this last one over a lifetime.)  I have not "ended up" doing anything.  Ridiculous.  I have made decisions to do x, y or z. 

But this was about mercy.  God, in Exodus 32, warns Moses that the people have "erred and strayed from his ways" before Moses even goes down the mountain.  Before he even views the scene Moses pleads the clemency or mercy of God.  And God grants it.

Now what are Moses' arguments?  "Lord, they are first time offenders.  I'm sure it's just a phase they are going through.  Have a heart and give them another chance."  Not exactly.  Did he say, "It's been a rough go for them since leaving Egypt.  They've been hungry and thirsty.  Tired as well.  You know the silly things people do when they are sleep-deprived.  Surely these are extenuating circumstances."  No, not that either.  What about, "No disrespect intended God, but you did rather go on and on these past 40 days here on the mountain.  You can't expect them to wait forever for a religious festival, or drinking party or whatever it is.  You could have written these tablets a little quicker.  Surely that should be part of your consideration."  Definitely not.

Moses' appeal for mercy on behalf of the people is not about the people at all.  Not one little bit.  It is about the Name of God and his character.  Here is the "legal" argument before the judge:

But Moses implored the LORD his God and said, “O LORD, why does your wrath burn hot against your people, whom you have brought out of the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand? Why should the Egyptians say, ‘With evil intent did he bring them out, to kill them in the mountains and to consume them from the face of the earth?' Turn from your burning anger and relent from this disaster against your people. Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, your servants, to whom you swore by your own self, and said to them, ‘I will multiply your offspring as the stars of heaven, and all this land that I have promised I will give to your offspring, and they shall inherit it forever.’”

(Exodus 32:11-13 ESV)

No mention of the trials and tribulations of the Israelites, their honest mistake or understandable impatience.  

God be merciful that your name may be honored and that you manifest your character and faithfulness.

1.  God do not wipe this people out because the Egyptians will speak ill of your name.  For Moses the first concern is that God's name be honored.  It is one of our first concerns or at least it is our first petition when we say the Lord's prayer, "hallowed be thy name."  

2.  God remember your promise to our forefathers.  You are true to your promise.  That is who you are. 

Moses' cry to God for mercy for the people is for the honor of his Name.  As is always the case, the Biblical narrative we read is actually about God and not the Israelites, or us, or our comfort or even our sins.

Why is God merciful here (or anywhere)?  Because it is his nature and character and for the honor of his Name.  Honor and glory and might and blessing be unto his Name now and evermore.