Mercy, not Sacrifice

This story right here. This one got me. It really changed my life.

No, it’s not The Lord of the Rings, though that’s a close second.

Despite spending my entire life running up and down the hallways of the Red Bank Cumberland Presbyterian Church, I didn’t understand this account from Jesus’ life until I’d left those hallways for the streets of Murfreesboro, Tennessee. I think that, towards the end of my adolescence, I had started to catch a glimpse of the meaning, but I didn’t get it until I was 19 years old. I remember where I was sitting and it was like all the shreds of truth I’d been trying to weave together for my entire life finally braided into a useful strand.

I’ve been working on the tapestry ever since.

The ninth chapter of the Gospel of Mattew is a holy place. Not just because it was personally impactful for me or because it’s part of the canon of Scripture, but because it holds the heart of exactly who Jesus came for. I’m going to go ahead and spoil it for you: Jesus came for us all. Our problem isn’t with understanding that bit, cognitively. It’s with how we view ourselves and whether or not we really think that we needed Jesus to come for us. Or the problem is that we think Jesus came for us, but not for them. We agree that he came for us all, but in practice, we put a few qualifiers on “all”.

Let’s set the stage, shall we?

Jesus had been traveling around Galilee teaching, healing, and making headlines. Everyone knew about this strange new teacher from Nazareth who didn’t apprentice under a Rabbi, but was a common laborer a few months ago. Even though he was famous, his parentage was questionable. This was the first century and these were small towns with strict moral codes. People had not forgotten that his mother was pregnant before she and Joseph got married. And, if they remembered that, they remembered other strange events like her cousin becoming a mother when she was past grandma age. And Mary’s story. That Joseph believed. That she was a virgin and her pregnancy was an act of God. Sure.

This is that guy.

Whether or not he’s a qualified Rabbi sent by God, he’s certainly fascinating and, you have to remember, there wasn’t a lot for diversion in first century Palestine. People went to see the teacher.

Jesus was most likely in a town called Capernaum when he met Matthew in the middle of his workday. Matthew was a tax collector. That meant that all day, everyday, he sat in his booth and collected/extorted/demanded taxes from the citizens of Capernaum. Even in the twenty-first century, nobody would like this guy. But, in his context, Matthew was a Jew collecting taxes from other Jews for the Romans. Et tu, Brute? He was a traitor. Everyone agreed. And, like most tax collectors of his day, he probably collected a little extra to line his own pockets. If you can’t have friends, you might as well have money, right? 

Matthew would have been aware of Jesus and likely had been to see him teach or heal someone in recent months. Given that his profession was working for the Roman overlords, we can deduce a couple of things about Matthew. First, he had not made it far on the path towards becoming a Rabbi, the hope and dream of all Jewish boys in the first century. Second, he either didn’t have a family to teach him a trade, was estranged from said family, or had failed at his family trade. I don’t know because I wasn’t there, but I’d guess that Matthew had a lonely life and likely had trouble sleeping at night. Oh, and because of some other details in the accounts of Jesus’ life, we know that Matthew was young. Like maybe 15 years old, young.

So, imagine it. You’re fifteen years old, supposed to be either training to be a rabbi or preparing to take over your family business one day, being a decent part of the Jewish community. But instead, you failed out of school, failed to have a family trade to learn, and you work for the people occupying and oppressing everyone you’ve ever known or loved.

But then Jesus stops by your workstation. Jesus, the guy making headlines all over first century Palestine. Jesus, the guy performing miracles and healing people and claiming to be the Son of God. Jesus stops by your workstation and says, “Follow me”

Matthew got up.

That’s amazing enough, but that’s still not the part of the story that really got me. It’s later, when Jesus is at dinner at Matthew’s house. Matthew, being a tax collector, was not exactly on good terms with the religious leaders or social elites of Capernaum. Thus, his only friends were other people like him. Outsiders. People referred to in the accounts of Jesus’ life as “sinners”.

Jesus is at dinner at Matthew’s house with a bunch of social outcasts and “sinners”. Sharing a meal with someone is incredibly significant in Jewish culture, to this day. So, the fact that Jesus is eating dinner with these people is more than him risking a little gossip to be polite and not hurt their feelings. He’s making a statement.

The religious authorities hear his statement loud and clear.

“‘Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?’ Now when he [Jesus] heard this, he said, ‘It is not those who are well who need a doctor, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means: I desire mercy and not sacrifice. For I didn’t come to call the righteous, but sinners.’” Matthew 9:11b-13

Some of y’all may not like my take on this, but I love how sassy Jesus is right here. He calls out the hypocrisy of the religious leaders to their face, dignifies those they have deemed unworthy, and invites them to repent all in one fell swoop.

This is what changed my life.

Left to my own devices, I’m a pretty black and white thinker. Some things are right, and some things are wrong. I still instinctively hate that there are grey areas, but I’m learning to live with and even like some of them.

Growing up, for reasons that I will or have explored elsewhere, I was highly judgemental and critical of the lifestyle choices of others. I’m still really concerned with doing things the right way, but then I was concerned with doing things rightly so that I could know that I was “in”. I wanted to make sure that no one could question me and I wanted to do all of the right things so that I would be approved of by God. The religious leaders of first century Jewish culture were similar. They did all the “right” things, on the outside. They weren’t “sinners”. They thought that this made God approve of them and that they could, therefore, scorn and disapprove of those who were on the outside.

But Jesus burst their bubble a couple of millennia ago just like he burst mine a couple of decades ago.

Sick people need doctors. Healthy people don’t. Simple enough. But it packs a punch when you realize what Jesus is saying. He’s eating with tax collectors and “sinners” because they are sick. They are sick and they know it. Why else do you think Matthew got up from his tax collectors’ booth and threw a party for Jesus? Jesus is the Son of God who came as a doctor to and for the sick. This is mercy. If he heals them, and he intends to, they will be well.

The religious leaders think that they are healthy, but they are not. If they were healthy, they too would be working for the welfare of the sick. They would be showing mercy. But they aren’t. Their sickness isn’t as obvious, you can’t see it from the outside, but it’s there, gnawing away at their hearts. I know because I had the same affliction in my younger years. They’ve sacrificed so much so that they can be righteous, so that they can be “in”. But Jesus doesn’t desire sacrifice. He wants mercy.

And the sooner that you realize that you can’t work or sacrifice your way into the Kingdom of God, the sooner you’ll realize how sick you are and how desperately you need a doctor to show you mercy. Then, you’ll go and do likewise.

I was nineteen years old when I realized that I needed to start spending time with people I had previously scorned, hated, and cast out. All the “sacrifices” I’d made to be righteous hadn’t made me more holy or more like Jesus, they’d just made me bitter. Sure, I was saved some pain and difficulty of another sort, but I’ve been uprooting bitterness of every kind out of my heart for as long as I can remember. I cannot help but wonder what would have happened to me if I’d never learned to look down on the teen moms, pot heads, and party people. They did me no wrong. Would I have less bitterness towards those who have done me wrong if I had never learned to disdain those who had not?

When I realized that the way of Jesus was the way of mercy not sacrifice, my life changed for the better. Not overnight. Not even in a few years, but slowly, surely. I’m not who I was. In fact, I don’t think you’d recognize sixteen-year-old Emily if you’ve met me in the last ten years. And, for those of you who think I’m blunt, harsh, and angry now, oh boy. You literally have no idea.

Jesus didn’t spend most of his time with the religious elite or the who’s who of Galilee, though he did talk to them and invite them to have a change of heart. This is one of several accounts of him not just hanging out with, but actively moving towards people who society and religion have said are “out”. 

If that’s you, then you’re in good company.

It is not those who are well who need a doctor, but those who are sick.

Go and do likewise.