Dear Mount Calvary Lutheran Church,
Over 400 years ago William Shakespeare placed the following words on the mouth of Portia speaking to the Shylock, a Jewish juror, in The Merchant of Venice.
“The quality of mercy is not strainedIt 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. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much To mitigate the justice of thy plea; Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice Must needs give sentence ‘gainst the merchant there.”
Generations have been moved by its timeless meditation on our universal human need for mercy. While we all seek justice, we should be sure we do not condemn ourselves in our pursuit of right and wrong. In the words of Jesus, “the measure you use, will be used back on you.”
Many have noted the phrase, “it is twice blest; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.” I would like to take a moment to address this timeless truth.
More than a few find Christianity difficult because of the Jesus’s demand, and it is a demand, to forgive others. This seems so unfair. Indeed, it is! Worse, forgiveness seems like a slippery slope to permissiveness. When evil is uncovered, forgiveness is treated like a magic wand creating a dazzling Halmark moment but little healing, much less justice, for the victim. In an age when everything we have held dear seems to be slipping from our clutches, how can we possibly forgive those who take from us? In the words of an inscription from a cell in Auschwitz, “if there is a God, He will have to ask my forgiveness.”
I don’t pretend to fully understand the pain of the truly suffering, the anger of the rightly wronged, or the anguish of the wronged and agitated soul.
I can say Good Friday, the day Jesus died, is a day of reckoning. It’s the moment we have been secretly waiting for. Indeed, it is the cosmic day of atonement. Whereas one sacrifice could buy ancient Isreal another year on that strip of land in the Middle East, the death of Jesus throws blood across the fabric of the universe. In a moment the author of life steps out of the story. The God of galaxies dies leaving the world eerily quiet in His wake. His people stare every day at the cross-shaped scar. It is a day of justice and mercy. You see, justice and mercy are not opposites nor are they synonyms for soft and hard, weak or strong, permission and punitive, Justice and mercy are a paradox. They are always together, always different. They are twice blessed. They are both so necessary.
Jesus’ death was not a copout, loophole, or technicality. It was perfect justice. A human being was punished for the crimes of human beings to an infinite degree. The sound of nails echoes in the farthest corners of the universe. Jesus’ death did not let anyone off the hook. Rather, the death of Jesus leaves us wondering, “what more can we do?” What more can we possibly hope to contribute to justice? God punished the worst among is in the most dramatic way possible. In one stroke and in the screaming words, “ Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani,” that is my God, my God why have you forsaken me, God Himself jumps into hell. Anything we bring to the table seems anticlimactic. All our wars, all our feuds, all our prejudice just seem empty. Devalued. It takes all our strength to throw a pebble at the rock of ages.
We sit in the dark day, 4pm yet pitch black, sobbing. We must rebuild and move on. We must live and this can be harder than dying. How will we live? By mercy. Mercy twice blessed. This is the paradox of justice and mercy. While the death of Jesus is perfect justice, poetic justice, and justice is the most primal sense, God has let us live. God showed us mercy in His nature. Mercy always gives twice. God gave us mercy, thank God. Looking inside at the feral desires of the heart none of us really deserved it. God also showed mercy to Himself in a way. He gave up one son for billions. One child for all his kids. He rescued humanity from human beings, you from yourself. He brought us out of darkness into His marvelous light where in the light of day we call a spade a spade. We can say thank you. We say your mercy is good.
In Jesus’ Service,
Pastor Kurt