Sermon for the Twenty-Second Sunday after Trinity, in the Octave of All Saints’
“Blessed are the merciful”
Mercy is at the heart of the Beatitudes, the great ethical teaching that belongs to the Communion of Saints in the vision of humanity redeemed. In the sombre greyness of November we are reminded of our end in glory. As such we are more than the divisions and enmities in our hearts that contribute to the miseries of the world; we seek for something more and greater that belongs to grace, to what is given to be our life in Christ. As Dante says about the Divine Comedy, its whole purpose is “to remove those living in this life from the state of misery and to lead them to the state of happiness,” ad statum felicitatis, literally, felicity (Epistle to Can Grande della Scala). This applies to the spiritual pageant of the Trinity season and to our lives in faith.
The Beatitudes are the blessednesses, the principles of grace that define the good of our humanity in relation to God and in our lives with one another; in short, our end in God in the Communion of Saints, is the true vocation of our humanity. This is what Paul alludes to in the Epistle reading from Philippians, “that your love may abound yet more and more in knowledge and in all judgement: that ye may approve things that are excellent; that ye may be sincere, and without offence, till the day of Christ, being filled with the fruits of righteousness, which are by Jesus Christ unto the glory and praise of God.” The gradual psalm reminds us of “how good and joyful a thing it is for brethren to dwell together in unity”; it is the blessing of life for evermore that belongs to the creedal profession of our faith. In each and every liturgy we participate and are at one with the Communion of Saints in giving praise and glory to God.
The Gospel illustrates this teaching by way of the negative example of the unforgiving servant who was forgiven a great debt by his lord and king but then refuses to forgive the paltry debt of another owed to him. To be forgiven and not to forgive is to negate mercy and forgiveness. The point is made very clear. “Shouldest not thou also have had compassion on thy fellow-servant, even as I had pity on thee?”
The Beatitudes always remind me of Portia’s great speech in The Merchant of Venice. “The quality of mercy is not strain’d,” she says, meaning that it can’t be held back and it can’t be forced. It has a necessity of its own as something divine. “It is twice blest: it blesseth him that gives and him that takes.” This is what the unforgiving servant has denied; the reciprocity of grace, the give and take of mercy. The merciful obtain mercy, like for like. As Portia puts it, “we do pray for mercy and that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy.” This is exactly what the unforgiving servant didn’t do. He prayed for mercy for himself but failed to render the deeds of mercy to another. The story is told to highlight the necessity of the reciprocity of grace, of mercy for mercy. It does so by way of a negative example and one which speaks to the problem of sin; pursuing our own self-interest in denial of the needs of others. The unforgiving servant betrays himself and the community to which he belongs.
after the example of thy servant Richard Hooker,
