26 February 2024 Luke 6:36-38
Start with mercy.
It would be silly to say we must never make moral judgments. Not only do we make hundreds of moral judgments just to get through the day (Don’t drive too fast, Be polite, Be patient, et al), but to say “Stop judging” is itself a judgment – a judgment on judging. Not only is moral condemnation sometimes called for (e.g. the condemnation of terrorism and other brutalizations of the innocent, neglect of which is only marginally less monstrous than the terrorism itself), but to say “Stop condemning” is itself a condemnation – a condemning of condemnation. Any time statements like “Never judge” lead directly to contradiction and irrationality, it is a pretty clear sign that we are dealing with hyperbole – exaggeration to make a point.
Of course we must make moral judgments and condemn monstrous acts. But start with mercy.
We have current and bitter experience of what happens when we withhold moral judgment, when we actually stop making moral distinctions. It doesn’t make people happier, but makes them miserable. If there are fewer and fewer reasons to judge what I do, if all judgment of me is subjective, if no rules are obligatory, then I have fewer and fewer reasons to value you. If no one can judge me, then I can hurt you. Of course you can hurt me right back, judgment free, but none of that makes either of us happier. In the end of the day, only objective moral values and duties make people happy, and despite what some may say, we all tend to live that way.
Of course objective moral values and duties exist, and need to be enforced. But start with mercy.
Judgment and condemnation are often completely fair, and richly earned. They are also bitter cold, and nothing can live in that permafrost, especially not the mercy that we all need, and none deserve. Cold is completely just – everything dies, nothing grows. There is a reason why Dante envisions hell not as a realm of fire, but a kingdom of ice made of nine rings, their boundaries distinguished only by the depth at which sinners are immersed in the ice. In the ninth circle, where the worst sinners are punished – those who have betrayed their benefactors – they are completely immersed in ice, unable to move or speak, only able to think about their cold and misery forever. Ice is perfect justice. It is only justice. Only a lunatic would ever say, “Give me just what I deserve.” It is asking for the ice.
God doesn’t start with perfect justice. God starts with mercy.
When you walk into a Catholic Church, the first thing you notice (or should notice) is a large crucifix. God is upon it. It is a shocking thing to see. Anyplace else, to display a corpse like that would be ghoulish and creepy, the kind of thing that gives you chills, the kind of chills that make you think the ice is nearby. What the crucifix is saying, however, is that God has suffered perfect justice for us. He has taken the ice so that we don’t have to. When you walk into a Catholic Church you see graphically displayed that God starts with mercy.
There is a time, and a way to talk about judgment and making moral choices. There is a time and a way to talk about condemnation, drawing lines that no one must cross. But don’t start there. Start where God starts.
Start with mercy.
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