Sermon: Proper 10 RCL C – “Mercy”

Remember Otis Campbell? He was the town drunk on The Andy Griffith Show who would lock himself in jail rather than waiting for Andy or Barney to arrest him. Well, imagine another Otis-like character, let’s call him Boudreaux, who doesn’t turn himself in but gets arrested for the umpteenth time and has to appear before the same judge, each and every time. However, on this most recent occasion, he makes a rather unusual request of the judge.

“Your Honor,” Boudreaux says, “if you don’t mind, I would like to try myself and judge myself.”

With nothing to lose, the judge says, “OK, let’s hear it.”

Well, ol’ Boudreaux lets loose on himself. “Boudreaux, you are a low-down, no-good polecat of a man, who has abandoned every responsibility you ever had. You have spent your entire life thinking only of your own selfish desires. And now here you are, once again, throwing yourself on the mercy of this court. However, you will find no mercy today, because you do not deserve it.” Then, turning to the judge, he says, “Your Honor, I find myself guilty as charged, and I sentence myself to a $100.00 fine and 30 days in jail. And I pray that God will help me understand the wickedness of my ways.”

The judge nodded thoughtfully and said, “Boudreaux, I think you really mean it this time. I commend you for your righteousness. I’ll accept your judgment.” 

At which, Boudreaux interrupted the judge and said, “Your Honor, I have one more thing. I suspend my sentence!”

Mercy. When we think of mercy, we often picture throwing ourselves on the mercy of the court. However, I doubt we often consider it as a Christian virtue, even though it is considered the greatest. St. Thomas Aquinas writes in his Summa Theologica, “Mercy is the greatest of the virtues, since it belongs to God to show mercy, and in this His omnipotence is manifested to the greatest degree.” And more simply, Pope Francis wrote, “Mercy is the very foundation of the Church’s life.” (Misericordiae Vultus, 2015) So, what is mercy?

Mercy comes from the Latin word misericordia, which literally means, “having a miserable heart.” Aquinas helps us understand more clearly what this means. He explains that there are two parts of mercy required for it to be considered a virtue—affective mercy and effective mercy.

Affective mercy is an emotional response—how something makes you feel. You see someone suffering in some way, and you feel sympathy or compassion for them. However, simply having sympathy is not a virtue. Consider the words of St. James: “What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.” (James 2:14-17) What good is it if someone has an emotional response to someone’s suffering but doesn’t act to ease that suffering? Affective mercy is good, but for it to be a true virtue, it must be accompanied by effective mercy.

Effective mercy is actually doing something about the suffering of others. Going back to James, “If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food,” and you provide them with good clothing and give them something to eat, then you are acting and actually doing something about their suffering. However, effective mercy, action alone is not a virtue. 

Remember the parable Jesus told about the persistent widow who kept coming to the judge seeking justice. Yet, the judge “neither feared God nor respected man.” (Luke 18:2b) The widow kept returning, but the judge didn’t care anything about her; however, he ended up giving her what she wanted, saying, “Though I neither fear God nor respect man, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will give her justice, so that she will not beat me down by her continual coming.” (Luke 18:4b-5) I don’t care anything about this widow, but so that she’ll leave me alone, I’ll give her what she wants. It’s like someone giving to a charity, not because they care about the cause but because they need a tax write-off. Affective mercy is action toward someone who is suffering, but without sympathy or compassion for them, it is not a virtue. 

For mercy to be a virtue, it must be both effective and affective. Mercy as a virtue is defined by Aquinas “as the compassion in our hearts for another person’s misery, a compassion which drives us to do what we can to help him.” (Source)

The greatest act of mercy is witnessed in Christ upon the Cross. Through His compassion and sympathy for our fallen state, He submitted Himself to “death, even death on a cross.” And, from this example, we draw our inspiration. 

Perhaps Shakespeare expressed it most eloquently when he gave the words to Portia in The Merchant of Venice.

“The quality of mercy is not strain’d,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God’s
When mercy seasons justice.”
(Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, Act 4, Scene I)

Mercy is an attribute of God, and when we show mercy, combining affective and effective, we reflect God’s nature.

“Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 

“What is written in the law? What do you read there?”

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” 

“You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”

“And who is my neighbor?”

The Parable of the Good Samaritan answers the question. Your neighbor is the one who shows mercy. Your neighbor is the one who feels compassion and sympathy for you and acts to help alleviate, if not all, then at least part of your suffering. Jesus says, if that is indeed how your neighbor acts towards you, “Go and do likewise.”

Yes, Jesus, I hear what you’re saying, but they are not like us. I mean, just look at them. They certainly don’t look or act like any of my neighbors. 

Jesus says, “Did I stutter? Go and do likewise.”

From Thomas Merton, “Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy. That is not our business and, in fact, it is nobody’s business. What we are asked to do is to love, and this love itself will render both ourselves and our neighbors worthy.” (Disputed Questions, p.122) Why are we not to put qualifiers on our love and who may or may not be our neighbor? In the same paragraph, Merton answers by referring to 1 John 4:19: “We love because [God] first loved us.” St. Paul says something similar in his letter to the Romans. “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8)

God did not stop to question whether or not we were worthy of His love or whether or not He should show us mercy. He loved, and He was merciful. Go and do likewise. 

As God’s beloved children, redeemed by the blood of His Son, this is what is required of us. The Prophet Micah writes,

“With what shall I come before the Lord,
    and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
    with calves a year old?

Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
    with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,
    the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?”

He has told you, O man, what is good;
    and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love mercy*
    and to walk humbly with your God.”

If you feel sympathy and compassion for someone, then do something to help alleviate their suffering. This is how God loved us and how we should love others in return.

A prayer given to us by St. Ignatius. Let us pray: Dear Lord teach us to be generous; teach us to serve you as you deserve, to give and not to count the cost, to fight and not to heed the wounds, to toil and not to seek for rest, to labor and not to ask for reward, save that of knowing that we do your will. Amen. 

* The ESV translates חֶסֶד as kindness, but the Hebrew is written וְאַהֲבַת חֶסֶד, which can rightly be translated as mercy andconveys the sense of undeserved compassion and covenantal faithfulness that Micah is emphasizing. All that to say, I like the ESV version, but tweaked it for what I believe is a better understanding. 

Sermon: Proper 23 RCL B – “Thanks be to God”

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Once, there was an elder in the lower parts of Egypt, and he was a very famous hermit who lived alone in a desert.  Two young men knew of the old hermit’s pious life, and they often scoffed and ridiculed him. Knowing this, Satan brought it about that a woman of easy virtue came to the two young men and said, “What will you give me if I can cause the hermit to stumble and sin?” The young men loved the idea, so they agreed on a certain sum of money they would give her. Going out the following evening, the woman came to the hermit’s cell, pretending to have lost her way. She knocked at his door, and he came out. Seeing her, he was disturbed and said. “How did you get out here?” She pretended to weep and said, “I have lost my way.” So, being moved to pity, he let her into the front room of his cell, and for his part, he went on to the inner room and locked the door. But the unfortunate woman cried out, “Father, the wild animals will eat me out here.” Once again, the hermit was disturbed, thought of the Judgment of God, and said, “How did this dreadful thing ever happen to me?” But opening his door, he let her in. It was then that the devil began to shoot flaming arrows of lust into his heart. But he said within his soul, “The ways of the enemy are darkness, and the Son of God is light.” So he lit a lantern, but the temptation continued, and he said, “Well, let’s see if you will be able to bear the flames of hell if you stumble and fall into sin by this temptation.” So he put a finger into the lantern’s flame, but though the flame burned him, he did not feel it because the fire of lust burned so brightly in him.” It went on like this all night until morning. He had burned all his fingers. The unfortunate woman, watching what he was doing, was so struck with terror that she almost turned into stone. In the morning, the two young men came to the hermit and said, “Did a woman come here last night?” “Yes,” said the hermit. “She is over there asleep.” Seeing her, they said, “Father, she is dead!” Then the hermit, throwing back the cloak he was wearing, showed them his hands and said, “Look what she did to me, that child of Satan! She has cost me all my fingers.” (Naturally, it was the woman’s fault that the hermit lusted after her.) However, having told them all that had taken place, he said, “It is written, ‘Thou shalt not render evil for evil.’” So he said a prayer and the young woman was revived, converted, and lived chastely for the rest of her life.

The hermit had done all he knew to do to live an ascetic life—a life free of outside influence and stimulus—so that he might dedicate himself to a life of solitude and prayer. This might seem odd to us today, but it is, in fact, a very noble and holy calling. He believed he was doing everything necessary to please God, but then the woman appeared. For him, she was a temptation, a stumbling block in his walk with God. He overcame the temptation, but the price of his obedience was his fingers—a very high price, indeed.

In our gospel reading, we are told that a young man came to Jesus and asked, “Good Teacher, what must I do to receive eternal life?” Jesus answered, “You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.’” Excitedly, the young man replies, “I’ve done all this since I was a child.” In love, Jesus responds, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

Like the hermit, the young man believed he was doing everything right. He was following the Law to the letter and walking the path of righteousness, but it wasn’t enough for his salvation. Jesus knew that this young man was wealthy and had many possessions, so Jesus said, “Give it all away and follow me.” The young man went away sad. For him, the price of his obedience might as well have been all his fingers. But even then, it would not have been enough for his salvation.

Jesus is asking the young man, “Do you want to try and save yourself through your actions, your abilities, and possessions, or are you willing to set all that aside and walk by faith?”

In this incident, the young man represents the people of Israel. All their lives, they have believed they could bring about their salvation by adhering to the Law of Moses. That is, by their works (the idea that doing good deeds or following the Law allows you to earn your salvation), but now, Jesus says it is not enough. They must have faith, follow him, and accept God’s grace that is being offered. 

In his letter to the Romans, St. Paul provides a fascinating discussion on salvation by works, which he compares to salvation by faith. Paul writes, the “Gentiles who did not pursue righteousness have attained it, that is, a righteousness that is by faith; but that Israel who pursued a law that would lead to righteousness did not succeed in reaching that law. Why? Because they did not pursue it by faith, but as if it were based on works. They have stumbled over the stumbling stone, as it is written, ‘Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense; and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.’” (Romans 9:30-33)

The people said to themselves, “If we burn all our fingers, we will be saved. If we follow the Law of Moses, we will be saved. If we do this, that, or the other, we will be saved. Through our works—the things we do—we can earn our salvation.” This belief was their stumbling block. And they so stubbornly believed in their ability to save themselves that they did not recognize the salvation Jesus was offering—a salvation that was far more costly than anything they could earn through their works.

In a day and age when we are so concerned with the stock market, inflation, wars, monkeypox, or whatever, I don’t know that the issue of our salvation and eternal life ever enters our minds, except, perhaps, when we gather here. However, when we do gather, we are the hermit in his cell, and we are the rich young man kneeling before Jesus, and like them, we ask, “What must I do to receive eternal life?” Like with the young man, Jesus may answer our question with a question. “What are you doing to receive eternal life?” We respond, “Well, I go to church, I say my prayers, I give to the poor, I read my Bible, I confess my sins, I receive communion, and more.” Jesus looks at us lovingly and responds, “You lack one thing. You must die to yourself. You must give me your life, then come, follow me.”

Jesus has just laid a large stumbling block in our path. The price is too high. It is too much.

I always get a little tickled when I think of the second part of our Gospel reading. I get this cartoon image of a camel, and he has this big ol’ bug eyes as he stares through the eye of a needle, trying to figure out how he will get through it. A thought balloon pops up over his head. “Nope,” he thinks. “Not a snowball’s chance in the Sahara!” That is us. The price is too high. We simply cannot do it. The stumbling block placed before us plants us face down in the dirt, with no chance of recovering. 

The disciples thought the same thing and asked, “Then who can be saved?” Can you see Jesus smiling when He answers? “For mortals, it is impossible, but not for God; for God, all things are possible.” Once, the apostle Paul was ranting against himself because of the stumbling block in his life, so he said in his despair, “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” In the confession of his failing, he discovered the answer. “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:24-25a)

With all my talking about sin these last several weeks, you may have thought it was the Season of Lent. We talked about confessing our sins, walking in the Light of Jesus, drawing near to God, and being true friends by holding each other accountable. However, even with our very best efforts, we are the camel staring through the eye of the needle, and we respond in despair, “Nope. Not going to happen.” Not because we don’t want to but because we don’t have it within us. 

We are to make our very best efforts to follow the commandments of God, but in the end, for our salvation and eternal life, it is too expensive for us; therefore, we need another way. We need God to forgive us our sins. We need mercy. We need grace.

“I lift up my eyes to the hills.
    From where does my help come?

My help comes from the Lord,
    who made heaven and earth.”

(Psalm 121:1-2)

“Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” Thanks be to God, for through Jesus, the camel can pass through the eye of the needle.

Let us pray:
Father of Mercy,
forgive our failings,
keep us in Your Grace,
and lead us in the way of salvation.
Give us strength in serving You
as followers of Christ.
May the Eucharist bring us Your Forgiveness
and give us freedom to serve You all our lives.
May it help us to remain faithful
and give us the grace we need in Your service.
May it teach us the way to eternal life.
Amen.