Jesu Juva
“A God of Mercy”
Text: Matthew 9:9-13
Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.
Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’
How insulting! Go and learn? The Pharisees were the teachers, not the learners. They knew their catechism. They knew God’s Word. Do you Jesus? You’re the one hanging out with the sinners. Maybe you better go and learn what God desires! Or come to us. We’ll teach you. And here’s a clue: it ain’t hanging out with and eating with tax collectors and sinners!
Or is it?
Jesus was just quoting the prophet Hosea, so maybe He’s right. But at the same time, God did lay down the Law regarding sacrifices. We’re learning about that in our Bible Study on Leviticus. And He gives some pretty strict rules there about what they are and how to do them. So this does seem a little confusing, doesn’t it? Maybe we do need to go and learn. Become catechumens again.
And the first thing we need to learn that God doesn’t desire sacrifice. Yes, He set up that whole sacrificial system, but not because He likes it, but because His people needed forgiveness. Forgiveness which is not just overlooking or ignoring their sin, but dealing with it. The wages of sin is death. So either they die, or God provides a substitute. So God provided a way of dealing with sin, and provides substitutes, until the real and final substitute would come.
And the second thing to learn is that what pleases God is mercy. He is a merciful God and wants us to be like Him and have mercy on others. Ah, but that’s the rub, isn’t it. I like mercy, when it is given to me. I want mercy, but don’t always like having mercy on others. I ask forgiveness for my sin but hold the sins of others against them. I ask for understanding but don’t want to listen to others. I hold others to a standard I myself cannot meet.
All that is a symptom, that too often, faith, religion, is whittled down to me and God. My personal relationship with God. Me and Jesus. And others? They kind of get in the way; take me away from what I want. They’re annoying. Inconvenient. Messy. They take up my time and energy. They’re frustrating. Needy. It’d be so much better if I didn’t have to deal with all them. But . . . no. The God who said love me with everything you’ve got is also the one who said love your neighbor as yourself. The God who loves mercy. And for mercy, you know what? You need an “other” to have mercy on.
So the sacrifices were needed, but the mercy is, too. And of the two, the mercy is the greater.
You see, that’s what the Pharisees had backwards. They sacrificed a lot. They gave a lot. They tithed. They “corban-ed” their wealth. They were really good at sacrifice. But mercy? Not so much.
And that was their big beef with Jesus. He didn’t seem to appreciate their sacrifice and He hung out instead with . . . “them.” Hung out. Sat down. Whiled away the hours. Had a good time. Even yukked it up with them over food and drink, all the while teaching them about His Father. Well, that’s not right! You’re defiling yourself and demeaning yourself by hanging out with them, Jesus. Don’t you see that?
And Jesus replies, I’m the doctor attending the sick. They need me. I’m not worried about catching something from them. I just want to heal them.
Yeah, but you might! You might catch something from them. Their uncleanness, their sin, their stench, their unworthiness on you! And you might die with it, Jesus. Not us! Uh-uh. Not us.
And here’s the answer to that: Yup! You’re right. I might. I might catch something. No, that’s not quite right. I shall. And that’s what I want. Their disease will kill me. Yours too. I’ll catch sin-sickness from all of you. That’s not going to stop Me. That’s what mercy is. My mercy.
And that is what mercy is. Mercy doesn’t calculate the outcome based on me and what it’s going to do to me. Mercy asks only what the other needs, and then mercy acts. Mercy is there for others, even if it’s an inconvenience, or frustrating, or annoying, or tiresome, or even dangerous.
And Jesus came in mercy. So where else would you expect to find Him? He’s where the sick ones are. They are His clients. The broken, the bruised, the battered. The ones who’ve been hurt and torn up by sin. He has come to mercy them. To mercy you. For are you not all those things?
And Jesus wants to mercy the Pharisees, too. Blind as they may be to their own need. But maybe . . . they can see their need? Maybe their own need for healing? Their own exhaustion from trying to do it themselves? Learn what this means, I desire mercy, and not sacrifice, and let me mercy you, heal you, save you, too.
And so it was . . . until that day came when the sin-sickness, our sin-sickness, seized hold of Jesus. That day when He was stretched out on the cross. There with all our sin, our uncleanness, our rebellion, the sin and sickness of all the world coursing through His veins. And it killed Him. His contact with us, His breathing our poisoned air, His touching our foul uncleanness and death finally took Him down. He was the sacrifice all the others pointed to AND the mercy God desired. To provide the forgiveness, life, and salvation we need.
And the Father was well pleased. And so the Father raised Him up. And that Easter morning, sin was atoned for, death was undone. It’s power over us broken once and for all by our substitute. By the sacrifice AND mercy of God’s only Son.
That’s the sacrifice and mercy Matthew wrote about. Matthew the tax collector preached and wrote about Jesus the sin collector. The one who collected his sins. The one who came for him and called him. The one who loved him when no one else would. The one who mercied him. Jesus would use him. And he wanted all the world to know. About this Saviour, this doctor, who can save us from sin and death. About a God who welcomes sinners and eats with them. And loves to do so.
And so He still is! He doesn’t wait for us to invite Him. He comes to us here to mercy us. To embrace with us His love in Baptism, to mercy us with His Absolution, and to spread a table and invite us to His feast, to sit down with Him and eat and drink. And still touching us - the very same body and blood that touched and healed Matthew and all those tax collectors and sinners so long ago, still touching us today. Still saving us today. And it’s only a foretaste, a teasing anticipation of the feast to come, where the healings are final and the sorrows are forgotten and the feast never ends.
Follow me, Jesus said to Matthew that day. He surely didn’t know what he was in for! What he would see, what he would hear, what he would do, what he would receive. It would all be beyond his wildest imagination.
We don’t know either. Life can be hard, and inconvenient and messy and annoying and frustrating and tiring. But the mercy and gifts of God are even greater. His forgiveness for our unmercifulness. His strength for our weakness. Follow me is still His call today. To us. And so we follow Him first here, to His table, to His feast, to be with Him, to receive from Him, to live with Him. A table big enough for all, and a feast that will never run out. And if you’re a sinner, an outcast, an undesirable, the poor, wretched, refuse of the world - there’s especially a place for you here. With the one who came to heal and forgive and raise and save.
And then second, at the end of the service today, as our Narrator will explain, we’ll follow Jesus as He leads us out of this place and back into the world, back into our vocations, back to our messy lives. But a little less messy, a little less hopeless. And we will follow Him out, to the others, giving to them the mercy we here receive
Like Matthew did.
In the Name of the Father, and of the (+) Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Hat tip to Rev. William Weedon for his study of this text and inspiring this sermon. Concondia Pulpit Resources, Vol 35.4, p. 65-66.
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