Who Needs Mercy?

Introduction

On Sunday, June 7, 2026, Beechmont Presbyterian Church gathered to reflect on Jesus’ words: “I desire mercy, not sacrifice. (Matthew 9:9-13)” In a world often shaped by judgment, division, and exclusion, this Gospel passage invites us to consider what it truly means to live with compassion, curiosity, and grace. This sermon explores the importance of asking genuine questions—not questions rooted in accusation or superiority, but questions that open us to understanding, healing, and deeper relationship. As followers of Christ, we are called to examine how mercy shapes not only our understanding of God, but also how we relate to one another.

The Importance of Asking Questions

Kathleen McManus says that:

“Questions arise from a desire to know, learn, or understand. They emerge from the questing spirit, which is distinctively human, which marks us as transcendent beings made for mystery, made in the image of God, stamped with the yearning to know and be one with God.”

This yearning to know is important. I think it comes with us from the moment we are born.

Some adults become frustrated when children ask questions that seem nonsensical. Yet asking questions is necessary for our development as human beings. It helps us form opinions, beliefs, and make decisions.

Some people say that when we stop questioning, we stop growing. And that can be dangerous.

Primo Levi, who was an Italian Jewish writer and Holocaust survivor, writes about this in his memoirs about life in Nazi concentration camps. In one of his books, he shares his thought on asking questions or questioning:

There are also questions that are not really questions at all, but judgments that arise from the need to impose our own beliefs on others without opening ourselves to genuine inquiry. Sometimes what sounds like curiosity is really condemnation in disguise. One writer suggests a simple test: if you can silently add the words “you idiot” to the end of your question without changing its meaning, then it is probably not a real question at all, but a judgment. “Why would you do that, you idiot?” can easily communicate accusation rather than compassion.

A genuine question, however, seeks understanding instead of victory. It listens before it labels. It makes room for another person’s story, pain, fear, and struggle. And in doing so, it allows us to grow, to learn, and to understand more deeply. It draws us closer to God and to one another.

Why do you eat with sinners?

What do you think would happen if we applied this simple test to the question the Pharisees ask in this passage? It is telling that they do not go directly to Jesus, but instead ask the disciples. Let’s try it: “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners… you idiots?” What does that reveal? Is their question rooted in compassion or genuine curiosity?

For Matthew, the answer is clear: no. In the Gospel, this is not a sincere question, but a judgment disguised as one. These men are not honestly seeking to understand Jesus’ ministry, because they have already passed judgment on it.

According to them, Jesus is eating with tax collectors and sinners. And you know about tax collectors, right? These were people despised for exploiting their own communities. And who were considered “sinners”? According to the religious law of the time, the category included tax collectors, people who did not carefully observe purity laws, those engaged in professions or behaviors considered morally suspect, people unfamiliar with the law, and those rendered ritually unclean through illness or other conditions.

So their question is not rooted in compassion or curiosity, but in the need to defend their own sense of righteousness. This “teacher” is challenging the very labels and boundaries that had been used to exclude people and cast them out of the community. Their question, then, carries accusation, superiority, and condemnation rather than genuine curiosity.

What is Sin?

This conversation led me back to a simpler question than the one being asked in this passage. So I asked myself: what is sin?

As someone who has studied philosophy of religion and theology, I can tell you that I have encountered many definitions of sin. It goes far beyond simply doing bad things. Sin has been described as loving things in the wrong way or in the wrong order. It has been described as anything contrary to charity — that is, contrary to the love of God and neighbor. Others describe sin as humanity’s refusal of God’s grace and covenant relationship, or as estrangement: a separation from God, from others, and even from ourselves.

My own understanding of sin, after years of questions and reflection, is that sin is a broken relationship with God and with others that affects every part of human life. It is anything I do, say, or think that goes against God’s agape love for me, for others, and for creation. Whenever we live in this way, we lose part of our humanity in futile striving and are left in rebellion, despair, and isolation, as the Confession of 1967 states.

So what does that mean for the way we live?

Whenever we lie, act out of greed, resort to violence, contribute to injustice, or live selfishly, we participate in sin. Whenever we fail to love God and neighbor in ways that reflect the self-giving, unconditional, and steadfast love of God, we participate in sin. Whenever we take part in systems of racism, oppression, exploitation of creation, or other forms of social evil, we participate in sin.

So according to these understandings of sin… who are the sinners?

All of us.

Sin is a universal human condition. Every person is affected by sin, and no one is completely righteous apart from God’s grace.

And yet, as we come to understand this reality, we are also able to understand the all-encompassing power of God’s grace. Sin is serious, but it is never the final word. God seeks reconciliation, healing, and restoration through Jesus Christ.

That is why Jesus’ ministry to “tax collectors and sinners” is so important in the Gospels. Jesus does not deny the reality of sin, but he moves toward sinners with mercy rather than exclusion. Even the Pharisees are sinners too. They believed that table fellowship with “tax collectors and sinners” contaminated holiness. But Jesus reveals instead that mercy, compassion, and reconciliation are at the heart of God’s will.

Who Needs Mercy?

So, if God’s will is compassion and reconciliation, then who needs God’s mercy?

Everyone.

And toward whom are we called to act with mercy?

Everyone.

There are no boundaries to God’s mercy.

In a world where there seems to be an obsession with who is clean and unclean, who belongs and who does not, who is acceptable and who threatens some imagined sense of Christian purity, Jesus declares that everyone is invited to the table. Everyone is worthy of acceptance, solidarity, and relationship, because God desires mercy, not sacrifice.

God desires agape love, not legalistic self-righteousness.

God desires compassion, not condemnation.

God desires welcoming tables, not raids of exclusion.

God desires genuine curiosity that leads to understanding, not questions meant to accuse or shame.

And if that is true, then mercy is not optional for the Christian life. It is at the very heart of the Gospel.

How Do We Live With Compassion And Curiosity?

In the book Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life, Richard Rohr writes about the need — especially in the second half of life — to “discharge the loyal soldier.” The loyal soldier is the part of us that learned to survive by being right, defending our tribe, and drawing boundaries between us and them, worthy and unworthy, righteous and sinner.

But questions rooted in compassion and curiosity require something different from us. They require us to discharge the part of ourselves that believes our worth comes from always being correct, morally superior, spiritually secure, or safely separated from “those people.”

Jesus did exactly that. He refused the boundaries that divided people into clean and unclean, worthy and unworthy. He ate with tax collectors and sinners. He welcomed people to the table.

The loyal religious voice asks, “Why are you doing that… you idiot?”

But a compassionate and curious question asks, “What pain might this person be carrying?”

And a loving agape question asks, “How can we embody God’s love in this situation?”

Rohr also quotes Gregory of Nyssa, who reminds us that “sin happens whenever we refuse to keep growing.” And growth does not happen when we refuse to listen. Growth does not happen when we are ready to judge and act before asking questions. Growth does not happen when we refuse to imagine that God’s mercy might be wider than our expectations.

Growth happens at a bigger table.

Growth happens when we ask who, what, when, where, why, and how.

Growth happens when we discharge our loyalties to social comfort and uniformity, traditions of exclusion, and human judgment long enough to sit at the table together… just like Jesus did.