Variety: Matthew9v9-13
9 As Jesus went on from there, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the tax collector’s booth. ‘Follow me,’ he told him, and Matthew got up and followed him. 10 While Jesus was having dinner at Matthew’s house, many tax collectors and sinners came and ate with him and his disciples. 11 When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, ‘Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?’ 12 On hearing this, Jesus said, ‘It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but those who are ill. 13 But go and learn what this means: “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.’
Richard Rohr writes: I once saw God’s mercy as patient, benevolent tolerance, a kind of grudging forgiveness, but now mercy has become for me God’s very self-understanding, a loving allowing, a willing breaking of the rules by the One who made the rules—a wink and a smile, a firm and joyful taking of our hand while we clutch at our sins and gaze at God in desire and disbelief.
Mercy is a way to describe the mystery of forgiveness. More than a description of something God does now and then, it is who God is. According to Jesus, “Mercy is what pleases me, not sacrifice” (Matthew 9:13, 12:7). The word is hesed in Hebrew, and it means steadfast, enduring, unbreakable love. Sometimes the word is translated as “lovingkindness” or “covenant love.” God has made a covenant with all of creation (see Genesis 9:8–17) and will never break the divine side of the covenant. It’s only broken from our side. God’s love is steadfast. It is written in the divine image within us. It’s given; it sits there. We are the ones who clutch at our sins and beat ourselves instead of surrendering to divine mercy. That refusal to be forgiven is a form of pride. It says, “I’m better than mercy. I’m only going to accept it when I’m worthy and can preserve my so-called self-esteem.” Only the humble person, the little one, can live in and after mercy.
The mystery of forgiveness is God’s ultimate entry into powerlessness. Look at the times when we have withheld forgiveness. It’s often our final attempt to hold a claim over the one we won’t forgive. It’s the way we finally hold onto power or seek the moral high ground over another person: “I will hold you in unforgiveness, and you’re going to know it just by my coldness, by my not looking over there, by my refusal to smile.” We do it subtly, to maintain our sense of superiority. Non-forgiveness is a form of power over another person, a way to manipulate, shame, control, and diminish them. God in Jesus refuses all such power.
If Jesus is the revelation of what is going on inside the eternal God (see Colossians 1:15), which is the core of Christian faith, then we are forced to conclude that God is very humble. That is amazing, and difficult to imagine. This God seems never to hold rightful claims against us. Abdicating what we thought was the proper role of God, this God “has thrust all my sins behind God’s back” (see Isaiah 38:17).
We do not attain anything by our own holiness but by ten thousand surrenders to mercy. A lifetime of received forgiveness allows us to become mercy. Mercy becomes our energy, our meaning. Perhaps we are finally enlightened and free when we can both receive mercy and give it away—without payment or punishment.