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Mercy and justice

Psalm 85

Rev. Peter R Green, Sunday morning, 26 Feb, 2006

GOD IS just — yet we depend on his mercy. How can both exist together? This psalm clearly expresses our need for mercy, but it recognises that it is of a just God that we ask it.

Franz Kafka tells a story — The Prison Island -— about a settlement where the very worst criminals are sent for punishment. The Camp Commandant has invented the ultimate in punishment. It is a machine designed to carry out the sentence without fear or favour — exactly, you might even say, “Justly.”

The criminal is strapped to a platform so that he can’t move. The machine is set into operation. A knife is lowered until it barely touches the criminal's skin.. Carefully, it traces the statement of the law the criminal has broken. The touch is so gentle that it barely tickles the criminal.

Then, when then full text has been traced out — “You shall not kill,” “You shall not commit adultery,” or whatever — the blade returns to is starting point. The pressure increases just slightly and the knife retraces its path, just hard enough to irritate slightly.

Then again, only this time it actually scrapes the skin slightly. And again, and again, each time going deeper, Finally, the knife is slicing deep beneath the skin, causing excruciating pain as the full sentence is imposed on the criminal, edging him closer and closer to death under the burden of his own sin.

If ever there was a parable of implacable justice, of law without any mercy, that is it.

When the law says,

The soul that sins shall die,

there is no maybe, no perhaps. The law demands eye for eye and tooth for tooth.

We Christians often tone down the law too much. We say, “Oh, that sets a limit on retribution. It means that you can’t demand a life for an eye or a hand for a bag of fruit.” And that is true.

But we are embarrassed by the idea that the law also sets a lower limit. We don’t like to think that the law prevents paying a little toe for an eye, or a banana for a hand.

We don’t like the setting of a lower limit, because we don’t like the idea of perhaps being required to pay full price ourselves, or the idea that our friends may have to pay full price.

But God’s law is perfect and just, and it demands an exact equivalence, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, life for life.

Perhaps it is hard to see how Psalm 85 fits in with a discussion of law.

Let’s take it apart and understand some of the issues.

The Psalm begins with a reminiscence of how good God has been to Israel.

^{PSA 85:1} You showed favour to your land, O LORD;

  you restored the fortunes of Jacob.

² You forgave the iniquity of your people

  and covered all their sins.

 Selah

In Jewish eyes, land and people were inseparable. If God is good to his land, he is good to his people, and if he is good to his people, he is good to his land.

Clearly, God’s people had been disobedient. They had turned away from God and his covenant. They were rebellious and had deserved God’s judgment.

That is what we mean when we talk about God’s wrath. Wrath is not rage. It is clear–headed, judgmental anger. It is passionate — how could a righteous God not feel anger and hurt when he sees the evil we do to one another? But it is not out of control.

The Psalmist says,

³ You set aside all your wrath

and turned from your fierce anger.

I had a teacher at school who was meek. What makes me say that is my memory of him when he was angry. He could be passionately angry, but it was never out of control. When he was angry at you, you knew it. But you also knew he would be scrupulously fair, and that he would temper his anger with mercy.

I got into trouble once, and he addressed me on the subject of my sins in a voice that could have been heard all around the school. He drew my attention to my own sense of right and wrong. He told me how bitterly disappointed he was. But when it was over, it was over.

The Israelites knew how far they had fallen, and pleaded with God:

⁴ Restore us again, O God our Saviour,

and put away your displeasure toward us.

⁵ Will you be angry with us forever?

Will you prolong your anger through all generations?

If God is just, how can he also be merciful? Yet the testimony of men and women throughout the centuries is that the God of justice is also the God of mercy. It is always on the basis of his mercy that we plead for revival; as the Psalmist writes,

⁶ Will you not revive us again,

that your people may rejoice in you?

⁷ Show us your unfailing love, O LORD,

and grant us your salvation.

I mentioned last week that I had been talking to a work colleague about revivals.

It got me thinking again about revivals. The discussion began with how Indians can be Pentecostalists, and it struck me that the Pentecostal movement was part of a revival which broke out in several places almost simultaneously. It was between 1900 and 1902 in various places in the US, around the same time in Sweden, and 1904-1905 in Wales.

Revivals have been a constant since the late 1600s. The Great Awakening in the US and the rise of Pietism in Germany were near the beginning; would we have revival if we really wanted it?

The Isle of Lewis revival came after Christians began earnestly praying for revival.

The breakthrough came when one of the elders in a prayer meeting exclaimed, “Brethren, it seems to me just so much humbug to be waiting and praying as we are, if we ourselves are not rightly related to God.” Then lifting his hands toward heaven he cried: “Oh God, are my hands clean? Is my heart pure?” He got no further, but fell prostrate to the floor. An awareness of God filled the barn and God’s supernatural power was let lose in their lives. It shocked the people, and awoke them to what God was saying.

As we saw last week, the beginning of holiness is when we not only live the kind of life that pleases God, but when we allow his Spirit to speak to our condition. As the psalmist says,

⁸ I will listen to what God the LORD will say;

he promises peace to his people, his saints--

but let them not return to folly.

⁹ Surely his salvation is near those who fear him,

that his glory may dwell in our land.

When God restores his people, when God exercises mercy towards us, then what the Psalmist writes takes place:

¹⁰ Love and faithfulness meet together;

righteousness and peace kiss each other.

¹¹ Faithfulness springs forth from the earth,

and righteousness looks down from heaven.

But, while the Psalmist talks about the practical results of the mercy of a just God, he does not discuss how that can happen.

When I was at school, we had to read Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice, or you wouldn’t get out of Junior High School.

The Merchant of Venice is largely a parable of how justice and mercy work together.

The story is fairly simple. Antonio, a rich merchant, is approached by his best friend, Bassanio, who needs some money so that he can travel to court Portia, a young woman whom he loves. Antonio can’t deny his friend, but, unfortunately, is rather strapped for cash, as his wealth is all tied up in a shipment of goods that he expect to arrive within days.

Antonio hates to do it, but eventually goes off to see Shylock, a widowed Jewish money–lender, to ask for a loan.

However, Antonio has been pretty abusive towards Shylock, and the money–lender doesn’t really want to deal with him.

However, Shylock finally agrees to the loan, with the proviso that, if Antonio defaults in payment, Shylock will have the right to claim one pound of Antonio’s flesh, taken from where he chooses, as a compensation.

You can imagine what happens. First, Shylock’s only daughter runs away and becomes a Christian of a sort; then Antonio’s ships are sunk in a storm. Antonio is suddenly bankrupt, and an enraged, embittered Shylock demands his pound of flesh.

Antonio is brought before the court, and the judge urges Shylock to be merciful. Shylock wants to know why he should be. Has Antonio ever been merciful to him? Why should he pay, when it is Antonio who is in the wrong?

The case is about to proceed when Portia and her maid arrive at the court. They are disguised as a barrister and his clerk, ready to defend Antonio.

Portia makes her famous speech —

“The quality of mercy is not strained.

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed.

It blesseth him who gives, and him who takes...

It is an attribute to God Himself;

and earthly power doth then show likest God’s

when mercy seasons justice...”

Once more, Shylock refuses to be merciful.

Then Portia makes a dramatic declaration.

Shylock, she says, is quite right. The law is on his side. The contract says a pound of flesh, and a pound of flesh he shall have.

Shylock raises his knife, ready to slice off his pound of Antonio’s vital organs, when Portia calls, “Wait! There’s just one more thing!”

Shylock stays his hand.

“The law clearly allows you your pound of flesh,” she tells him. “But no blood. There is nothing in the contract about blood, so not one drop of blood belongs to you. Spill his blood, and you are making an attempt on his life!”

Shylock splutters and protests, but it is no good. Law is law, justice is justice. And good justice is exact.

Then Portia adds that Shylock had, in fact, conspired against a citizen’s life. That is a crime in itself. Shylock’s wealth is forfeit to the crown.

So the tables are turned on Shylock, and he is forced to confront the intent of his own heart.

As I said earlier, God’s law is perfect and just, and it demands an exact equivalence, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, life for life.

A just God must apply exact justice, or he is not just at all.

So where does mercy fit in?

Strict justice has no room for mercy.

In Old Testament days, the Jews had to learn what strict justice was about. They had to know it thoroughly. They probably learnt it too thoroughly. They didn’t always grasp where mercy fits in.

The fact is that God’s justice demands the full penalty of us all.

The wages of sin is death,
and

The soul that sins shall die

If you view God as the great Score Keeper in the sky, if you think that being good is our minimum requirement, you will see that every single one of us has an enormous weight of guilt on our shoulders, and there is no remedy. No amount of good deeds can ever erase the fact of the wrong we have done.

But God is not such a Score Keeper. All the laws boil down to two, to love God with everything that is within us, and to love our neighbour as we love ourselves.

Cease to love God, and at once we cease to merit his benevolence. We become outlaws at a stroke. Separated from God, we cease to love others, or even ourselves.

Never think, “I don’t hate God: that is enough.” Ignoring God is the real problem. Hatred engages with God, even if it’s in a negative way. Bland uninterest is far worse.

And we can’t get away from it. Who among us ever loves God with our entire being?

There is only one remedy. Justice must be done. The legal agreement must be satisfied. The pound of flesh must be paid.

“...in the course of justice, none of us

should see salvation,”

says Portia

Think it over: who really owed Shylock the money? Antonio borrowed it; Antonio entered into the contract, but it was so that penniless Bassanio could freely go to visit Portia. Shylock’s money went to Bassanio — Antonio was merely the mediator. As Antonio bares his chest so that Shylock’s knife can plunge in, Antonio is standing in Bassanio’s place. He is preparing to die in the place of his best friend.

That is the only remedy for the debt each of us owes. God can’t be merciful by merely waiving justice. The price has to be paid. And we are penniless to pay it ourselves.

That is why Jesus came. He died — the just one for us unjust ones — to bring us to God.

When the Psalmist was writing, they relied on animal sacrifices. They had to be repeated, constantly, daily, as a declaration, “I deserve the death that this animal died for me,”

But

Not all the blood of bulls

On Jewish altars slain

Could wash my sins away

Or cleanse each guilty stain

Only a perfect sacrifice — a sinless human life for my sinful human life — could satisfy a just and holy God. Only God united with humanity could satisfy God and liberate humans.

The Psalmist could say,

¹² The LORD will indeed give what is good,

and our land will yield its harvest.

¹³ Righteousness goes before him

and prepares the way for his steps

He could say it, because, whether we think of the salvation of the lost, or whether we think of the revival of the church, the same principle applies. Repentance and faith applies the redeeming blood, and in Christ we are made whole once more.

If there is one thing we all need, it is to be washed once more in the cleansing blood of Christ our Saviour.

Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?

Let’s place ourselves once more under that crimson flow, and receive the new life which we all need.

AMEN

© Peter R. Green 2006. Permission is granted for quotation in full for non-commercial purposes provided that authorship is acknowledged and this copyright notice is displayed with the text. Portions also copyright The Bible, NIV (Zondervan Ltd.)