You Are Not Supposed to Play Fair
26th Sunday of the Year
A philosophy professor of mine once remarked that it seems that every person, almost by disposition, tends toward one of the four cardinal virtues—prudence, justice, temperance, or fortitude—more than the others. In other words, some people by nature seem to be wise, fair, disciplined, or brave. We might explain our ‘default’ virtue in light of our temperament, our Myers-Briggs personality type, or our Hogwarts house; but in any case, I agree with my old teacher that in each of us there is one virtue to which are more easily drawn, while against the others we tend more to put up a fight.
For myself, mine is justice. I will admit that being an only-child is certainly a contributing factor here. Having never learned at a young age the concept of ‘sharing’, when enjoying appetizers with friends, intuitively, I keep close score of how many buffalo wings or mozzarella sticks I have eaten, who has not met their quota, and who has devoured more than their fair share. What I discovered as a young adult is that people who grew up with siblings know, intuitively, how to eat from the same dish in a way that everyone gets as much as they want without needing to break out an abacus. Still, in less trivial matters also, I like to think I have a pretty good nose for sniffing out when someone is being short-changed, not given their due, or suffering loss at another’s gain; and when I pick up on an injustice, especially one at the expense of someone close to me, this bothers me more than, say, if they were the victim of a fool, a glutton, or a coward.
Beyond mere natural disposition, many people today are deeply moved by a passion and thirst for justice; and in most cases, their motivations are good and noble. For many, the words of Dr. King resound within us: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” Racial, ethnic, religious, cultural, moral, economic, environmental, social, political, criminal: the cause of justice is fought beneath many different banners, sometimes in conflict with each other, but each pursuing a basic conviction that every person bears an intrinsic right to that which ought to be theirs.
Justice is good—indeed, it’s a virtue—yet justice runs into a problem when it reaches the New Testament, for in the New Testament justice is taken up and is played in a higher register: in the key of mercy. I speak very deliberately here of the New Testament, because in the Old Testament the people could pray for God’s mercy as a suspension of his justice, that God would not do that which he ought; but only in the New Testament do we see God fully revealed as love who manifests his love toward us, always and everywhere, as mercy. As Pope Francis memorably and powerfully said at the beginning of his pontificate, the very name of God is mercy. The New Testament reveals that Jesus Christ is God’s mercy-in-the-flesh: a profound, personal humbling of himself to enter into our brokenness, to take our pain upon himself, and to raise us up to the glory of new life in himself.
Among the most compelling depictions of God’s mercy in the New Testament is the hymn that Paul includes at the beginning of his letter to the Philippians. Modern biblical scholarship considers this text not to have been original to Paul but, rather, already known and used liturgically by early Christian communities. That is to say, it is among the oldest texts of the New Testament and, thus, very close to the experience of those who knew and followed Christ, who witnessed en-fleshed mercy first-hand. Paul writes, “Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness.” Notice the word “equality”, a synonym for justice. In becoming human, Christ lowered himself from equality with God to become equal with us, and took to himself our sinful human condition, to raise us up from the death that is our due, to enjoy the blessedness of equality with God that only Christ could share with us. As we prayed in the Collect for this Mass, God manifests his “almighty power above all by pardoning and showing mercy.”
And as Christ, so the Christian; thus, Paul writes, “Have in you the same attitude that is in Christ Jesus.” Or as the Lord himself told us, “Be merciful.” Both are nice sentiments, but when rubber meets road, mercy becomes a problem for us who thirst for justice, because justice, as the world thinks of it, stops short of mercy as the Gospel describes it. Justice pays what is due, fair and square; while mercy, on the contrary, is not about playing fair at all. Mercy often feels and tastes as if justice has failed to have been served. Yet mercy is where natural virtue turns the corner and makes Christians more than being merely ‘nice people’. Mercy is what transforms us into being Christ-people, who think and act only with the mind of Jesus Christ.
Opportunities to practice mercy abound in our daily living. Think of the petty retaliations against our co-workers, even our family and our friends, that we justify on the grounds that ‘they deserved it’. You may recall the wise counsel given by Gandalf to Frodo, ready to kill the treacherous Gollum: “Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. For even the wise cannot see all ends.” Mercy that stays our hand, that holds us back from hurting others with our words or our actions, affords the other person the time to change and the ability to be changed by the mercy we extend to them. Through the prophet Ezekiel, the Lord rebukes us: “You say, ‘The LORD’s way is not fair!” Indeed, it is not; for if the Lord were fair to us, we would not exist; yet he is merciful, and so we do and so he calls us to be instruments of his mercy in the world that at every turn demands justice.
If there is one trend that flies straight in the face of mercy, it is ‘cancel culture’. The minute that we write off anyone, that we condemn them in our hearts for whatever they have done, we have abandoned the mind of Christ. Christ warns that tax collectors and prostitutes may, in fact, enter the kingdom of God before the religious elite; and on the Last Day, it may become clear to us that those most in need of God’s mercy found it, while we did not.
In this Eucharist, may the Lord grant us to see others as he sees us, with the eyes of mercy; and seeing as he sees, may he manifest his power in us by pardoning and by showing mercy.
Homily given September 30 and October 1, 2023 at the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen and Saint Thomas Aquinas Parish.