Monday, June 8, 2026

Mercy! Not Sacrifice?

Jesu Juva

St. Matthew 9:9-13                                               

June 7, 2026

Proper 5A                         

Dear saints of our Savior~

        A common refrain in marriage goes like this:  I just want you to listen; I don’t want you to fix the problem.  Have you heard that before?  Or said that before?  Apparently, some of us are too quick to the fix.  We fixers are seeking solutions when what the other person claims to want is only to be listened to attentively.  Really?  You just want to be listened to?  Even though I’ve got the perfect solution for you and your problem?  I don’t buy it.

        Let me tell you what’s going on here.  The person who demands only to be heard, while rejecting every possible fix and solution—that person is engaging in “dialectical negation.”  Dialectical negation is where one part of a statement is completely negated (as in, No fixes) in order to emphasize the other part of the statement (Just listen to me).  This, of course, is an exaggeration.  The truth is that while the person would, actually, appreciate having their problem fixed, yet it’s even more important that they be listened to.  It’s really not an either-or.  It’s a both-and.

        I mention this because today’s Holy Gospel hinges on a bit of “dialectical negation.”  But because the call of St. Matthew is so personal and profound—because it’s so dramatic as Matthew just walks away and leaves the tax booth behind—we often overlook the exaggeration Jesus employs.  We just gloss right over the dialectical negation Jesus pulls out from the Prophet Hosea.

        Go and learn what this means [Jesus says]:  I desire mercy, not sacrifice.  That’s textbook “dialectical negation.” Do you hear the hyperbole?  I desire mercy: Okay.  That makes sense.  That’s no surprise.  But not sacrifice?  Did Hosea and Jesus just forget that over half of the Bible centers on sacrifice?  That the Old Testament especially is constructed around a carefully crafted system of sacrifice, culminating in the sacrificial death of the Son of God for the sins of the world?  How can Jesus say I desire mercy, not sacrifice?  Now you know:  He’s just using dialectical negation.  What Jesus means is this:  I do not desire only sacrifice, but even more importantly, I desire mercy.

        Sacrifice is easy.  Sacrifice is what we do for God—in response to His love for us.  Sacrifice is that vertical dimension of our lives as children of God.  The Pharisees were really good at sacrifice.  They excelled at outwardly keeping the commandments.  Their church attendance was perfect.  Their fasting was fantastic.  They tithed everything, right down to the spices they grew in their gardens.

        Most of you are also really good when it comes to sacrifice—to tending that vertical dimension of life.  I mean, it’s Sunday, and here you are in church.  And you have a way of making this room swell with the sounds of your prayers and praises.  And in your tithes and offerings, also, you excel at sacrifice for God.  Bravo.

        But today God says:  I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.  And no matter how you splice and dice that sentence, you can’t ignore those first three words:  I desire mercy.  Mercy is what the Pharisees lacked.  Showing mercy is that horizontal dimension of our lives as the children of God.  Even more important that your carefully curated sacrifices of prayer and praise—much, much more important—is showing mercy.  The outward sacrifices of piety are great; but they do not please God if you lack a heart of mercy—like the Pharisees lacked.

        Now, the good news is, showing mercy can take many forms.  To show mercy is to reach out with care and compassion to those in need.  Even in Whitefish Bay there are plenty of people who need mercy and compassion and love.  The bad news is, they’re all sinners.  Every last one of them.  And that fact makes it exceedingly difficult to give them the mercy God desires. 

        Who needs mercy from you?  That’s easy. When their name comes up on caller ID, you let it go to voicemail even though you are perfectly free to talk.  They might need money.  Their life choices have mostly been bad; and they almost never take your advice.  And they’re loud and proud about their politics.  They press all your buttons and they’re probably not taking their meds.  And they probably don’t appreciate you, or your time, or all the emotional energy they have drained from you.  And just when you feel completely and totally justified in writing that person off for good and declaring a mercy moratorium—Jesus says, “Go and learn what this means:  I desire mercy.  Be ye kind, compassionate, gentle, forgiving, tender-hearted, and merciful.”  Without that, all our sacrificial, religious rule-keeping means nothing.

        God desires mercy.  He demands mercy.  But mercy is not what we are known for.  And that’s a big problem.  That failure to show mercy reveals the Pharisee in all of us—even worse, it reveals the depth of our sin.  Our condition is critical.  It is terminal.

        It’s time for us to see the doctor.  We have need of a physician because we are sick with sin.  Your PCP can’t help you here.  But how good it is to know that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.  In fact, Jesus calls sinners to follow Him through death to life.  Whether your sins are like Matthew’s sins; or whether your sins are like the proud and pretentious Pharisees; Jesus was delivered up for you—for your trespasses and raised for your justification.  Jesus sinners doth receive!

        Jesus comes calling here today with healing for His sin-sick people.  Jesus is the God who desires mercy—and the God who shows mercy.  Through one, supreme act of mercy Jesus has redeemed the world.  Through one supreme act of sacrifice Jesus has made you righteous through the shedding of His holy blood.  On the cross Jesus was denied all mercy, as the justice and judgment we deserve was unleashed upon His thorn-crowned flesh.

        For our sin, Jesus was crucified, died, and was buried.  But now He lives forevermore.  Through faith in Him, sin-sick sinners are counted righteous and holy.  In the cleansing splash of Holy Baptism, Jesus called you by name and gave you the gracious invitation:  Follow me.  We heard it with our own ears just minutes ago with little Canon.  Here today Jesus shares a meal of mercy with you.  And He Himself provides the main entrée—His own true body and blood for the forgiveness of sins.  That’s the best medicine of all—the medicine of immortality—from our Great Physician.

        Strengthened by His gifts, you are empowered to live lives of sacrificial service and to show mercy as you have received mercy from Jesus.

        Take a good look around this space today.  You will never see it again in just this way.  It’s tempting to be a little triumphant—to celebrate the sacrifice we’re making to transform this space.  Let’s not go there.  Our God desires mercy—more than sacrifice.  This space will change, and stay the same.  It will look and sound different; but it will continue to be what it has always been:  a field hospital for sinners.  Here those broken and wounded by sin find healing and forgiveness.  Here Jesus comes, not to call the righteous, but sinners.  And that is something worth celebrating.

        In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

 

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