Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
Genesis 12:1-9
“Mercy, Not Sacrifice”
This morning’s Gospel text sounds like many others that describe the ministry of Jesus. We see him welcoming, teaching, and healing a variety of people. The stories confirm Jesus’ abundant love, his surprising power, and his generous commitment to heal and help the people he encountered. It makes sense that people were impressed, and that the news about him began to spread quickly through the district.
But it wasn’t just that Jesus was the best of the itinerant preachers in the area, or that he was the most successful of the doctors that tried to help the sick and suffering people. I think part of what got the people talking about Jesus was that he broke the rules and taught things that were starkly different from the other teachers.
So, I want to look at the brief bit of teaching that Jesus did in this passage. He was in the house having dinner with tax collectors, sinners, and his disciples. Some Pharisees see this, and they ask the disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” It’s obviously not something that the Pharisees would do themselves.
Sharing a meal in Second‑Temple Judaism signaled acceptance, shared purity, and religious alignment. Pharisaic tradition required that one eat only with those who were ritually observant, tithed properly, and maintained purity laws. Eating with the impure was seen as endorsing their behaviour and risking one’s own defilement.
Jesus doesn’t defend his decision by arguing that his companions are good people and that the Pharisees are being unfair in their assessment. He acknowledges that his table guests are less than perfect, and he claims that he intentionally chose them and welcomed them to the meal.
Jesus explains that he is most interested in people who need help, just as a physician is most interested in people who are sick. Jesus is the healer: he comes not to reward those who are already well, but rather to help us become well in the first place.
And then Jesus uses a rabbinic rebuke to tell the religious leaders that they’ve missed the point of the Scriptures they claim to have mastered. He says, “Go and learn what this means…” (like he’s giving them homework!) He quotes from the Prophet Hosea, chapter 6, verse 6, where God declares through the prophet, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”
Hosea prophesied in the 8th century BCE during the reigns of Jeroboam II through Hoshea. At that time, Israel was experiencing economic prosperity, religious corruption, political instability, and widespread idolatry and social injustice. Although religious practices like sacrifice continued, they had become empty rituals that were not rooted in sincere faith or love.
The Hebrew word ḥesed that is translated to mercy refers to covenant loyalty, steadfast love, and faithfulness. Hosea accuses Israel of having love “like the morning mist”—brief, shallow, and insincere. Their sacrifices were plentiful, but their ḥesed (their mercy) was absent.
So, that’s likely what Jesus was saying to the Pharisees – that they were good at doing the religious rituals and following the laws, but that God wants more from us than that. God wants us to really and truly love God and love our neighbours. And if a situation arises in which you have to choose between following the religious laws and practices or showing mercy, kindness, or love to a neighbour in need, love has to come first.
If this sermon is going to matter at all, I think we have to consider what might be the circumstances in which we, as religious people, might have to choose between our religious customs and practices and showing mercy and love to our neighbours. When might Jesus be saying to us, “I desire mercy from you. It’s more important than your religion.”?
But first, I want to briefly tell you about three times that Jesus chose mercy over sacrifice in today’s Gospel text alone.
First, Jesus invited Matthew the tax collector to become one of his followers, to travel with him, to share food with him, to teach him the Way, and give him a special mission. Someone strictly following the religious law would not even be seen in public with such a sinner. But Jesus calls Matthew out of his sinful life and into a new Way. Jesus, mercifully, gives him a second chance and a new life.
Then, as the story continues, Jesus shows mercy in two other instances. First, he is called to assist a community leader whose daughter has just died. And before he even makes it to the man’s house, he is stopped by a woman in the street who is seeking healing for continuous bleeding that has been plaguing her for 12 years.
What we need to know is that the religious laws considered menstruating women to be ritually unclean, as were dead bodies, including the bodies of little girls like the one Jesus was going to help. If Jesus touched or was touched by either the bleeding woman or the dead girl, he would also become unclean.
My guess is that Jesus probably didn’t routinely go around touching dead bodies and hugging menstruating women. It’s not that he was intentionally breaking the rules and laws of his faith, nor was he saying that they were wrong. But if the rules held him back from doing what was right, from showing mercy and care for hurting people, the mercy was his priority.
Likewise, I don’t think that Jesus would disapprove of the religious rituals that we engage in today. I can imagine that Jesus enjoys our songs of praise, that he rejoices whenever we gather around the Communion Table in his name, that he is proud when we carefully read and interpret the Scriptures and when we sincerely pray for one another and the world that he loves. I expect that he is delighted when we give our time, talents, and tithes for his mission in the world.
But when our religious practices or rules impede his mission of love and mercy, that’s when I think Jesus would prompt us to go and learn what God meant when he said through the prophet Hosea, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”
The other night, Nick and I were walking back to our car from the Globe Theatre after seeing their latest play. In the middle of the street, a young man was bent down, painting the street with orange paint. He was fixing up a rainbow crosswalk that had been vandalized by someone else with spray paint.
We had just noticed him when we heard shouting. Someone was yelling at him angrily, accusing him of promoting sin, and telling him that he’d be going to hell. Of course, we stopped to offer the young man a word of encouragement. And he said, “I’m okay. I grew up with religious people like that.”
And that’s when I felt I had to identify myself. I’m a religious person too. I’m a minister, and I don’t believe that. That’s not Christianity as I understand it. That harsh, hateful, condemnation of the other who does not follow the rules as you understand them… that is not what Jesus would do.
But I think that Jesus is asking for more from us too, not just that we avoid being hateful and yelling angrily at people we disagree with.
Earlier that same day, when I arrived at the church in the morning I was feeling a bit anxious about all the work I had to get done that day. I had a few meetings scheduled in the afternoon, and I needed to get things ready for worship today as well as get prepared for the General Assembly meeting this week.
But as I got out of the car, I could see that there was a person lying on the side steps of the church. I couldn’t tell at first whether she was sleeping, unconscious, or even dead. My gut said, “Why me? Why now? I have so much to do today!” But I thought of Jesus, enjoying a nice dinner with his friends, interrupted first by people questioning and critiquing him, and then by someone desperately asking him to come and help his dead daughter.
I could tell fairly quickly that the young woman was breathing, but when I spoke to her loudly, and even when I gave her a little shake, she didn’t wake up. I called 911 and followed the instructions I was given. Fortunately, when I tried to turn her on her back as they told me to do, she actually woke up. She was just sleeping very deeply, after who knows what she had been up to through the night.
After cancelling the ambulance, I offered her water and asked if I could do anything else to help her, and she refused both. I hope she was able to make her way home, and that she had a home to go to. I didn’t do much to help her really, but I was determined not to walk by, to make sure she was okay, not to scold her for being on our steps, and to offer assistance if she wanted it. I couldn’t let my church work take priority over showing mercy.
Together as a congregation, we have decisions to make as well about how we will enact the mercy of God for our neighbours, and how we will make that the priority over our rituals and traditions. Do we use our resources first and foremost to meet our own needs and preferences? Or do we think about our neighbours, newcomers, and others that Jesus may be calling us to support and care for? Do we make decisions based on what is best for us? Or do we consider what is best for the mission Jesus is calling us to?
Perhaps God’s call to Abram and Sarai provides a good reminder. God blessed them, and God promised them a land and descendants and even more blessing. But the blessing was not for them alone. They were blessed in order to become a blessing to all the families of the earth.
This morning, the Gospel invites us to learn what it means to put mercy above sacrifice. We must also remember, especially when we struggle with that difficult teaching, that Jesus is the one who shows us how to show mercy. Despite our imperfections, our selfishness, and our failings, Jesus is merciful to us. Jesus invites us to the Table of Mercy and Love. Jesus meets us here, heals us, feeds us, and sends us out to love others as he has loved us, and to show mercy as he has shown mercy to us.