Walks of Mercy
St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD
June 7, 2026
Year A, Proper 5: The Second Sunday after Pentecost
Hosea 5:15-6:6
Psalm 50:7-15
Romans 4:13-25
Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
I mentioned to you once before that Sue and I have a daily inspiration calendar that we keep on a windowsill in the kitchen.
Part of my morning routine, when I have my first glass of water of the day and wait for the coffee to brew, is turning the calendar page to the message of the day.
Sometimes the messages are kind of obvious or trite, like “Hang in there!” or “You’ve got this!”
But, once in a while, there’s something a little more meaningful – a message that makes me think.
Like, for example, this past Thursday, when the message was:
“You are not your mistakes.”
“You are not your mistakes.”
And that little calendar message reminded me of an experience I had many years ago.
I had the wonderful opportunity to meet Sister Helen Prejean, a Roman Catholic nun who has spent much of her life ministering to people on death row and advocating for the abolition of capital punishment.
She’s best known for writing the book Dead Man Walking, which was later adapted into a hit movie.
Sister Helen came to speak at the school where I was teaching. And, before the event, some of my colleagues and I were invited to have dinner with her.
Pretty cool.
One of the things I remember from that dinner was how funny she was – telling jokes, making all of us laugh. I never would have expected someone who does the heavy work she does – someone who has seen the hard things she has seen - to be so joyful, but she was.
Now, even back then, I’m sure Sister Helen had done a million of these events, so she had heard everything that anyone might say to her about the death penalty.
She didn’t deny the need for accountability and justice, or the reality that some people are just too dangerous to live freely.
She was patient and respectful of other views, but, in response, she had an argument, a refrain, that I have never forgotten – words very close to that little inspirational calendar message:
“We are all worth more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”
That’s good news - when we’re the ones who’ve done wrong.
But it’s also hard news to accept when we’re the ones who have been wronged and harmed, when we have been devastated by the actions of another.
“We are all worth more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”
I love the opening of today’s gospel lesson, “As Jesus was walking along…”
I love that.
In fact, I’ve been thinking of today’s gospel lesson as Jesus’ walk of mercy.
As Jesus was walking along, he sees Matthew sitting at the tax booth. Jesus calls him and, amazingly enough, Matthew gets up from his place of work and follows Jesus.
And then we jump to a dinner, probably at Matthew’s house, maybe to celebrate Matthew’s decision to follow Jesus. And it seems like Matthew has invited his friends – more tax collectors! - to meet Jesus and the disciples, everybody together to celebrate this amazing turn of events.
Well, not everybody.
The religious people - they tsk, they shake their heads, they disapprove of Jesus partying with the wrong kind of people.
Now, to be fair to the religious people, tax collectors in this time and place were particularly despised, and for good reason. These tax collectors were Jewish people who worked for the hated Roman occupiers. And the tax collectors made their money by overcharging people and skimming off the top.
The tax collectors were seen as traitors to their own people.
And it does seem like Matthew did really well for himself since he was able to have everybody over to his place for a big party.
Matthew has done wrong – he’s hurt people, he’s hurt his own people.
People have good reason to despise Matthew.
But notice Jesus offers no judgment, no condemnation.
Instead, he simply calls Matthew to leave that life behind – and Jesus is happy to celebrate Matthew’s “yes.”
“We are all worth more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”
As Jesus’ walk of mercy continues, he encounters two desperate but hopeful people - and offers them a different kind of mercy.
One is a synagogue leader whose daughter has just died. You would think this isn’t a moment for hope - it seems like all options have been exhausted – the flute-players and the crowd of mourners are already gathering – and yet - and yet - this man asks Jesus to make his daughter live.
And then, there’s this poor woman, bleeding for 12 years – everybody probably gives her a wide berth - you’d think she would have given up by now – and yet – and yet - she touches the fringe of Jesus’ cloak – something she really shouldn’t have done.
And as we heard, the faith of both the desperately hopeful father, and the desperately hopeful woman is rewarded.
Jesus’ walk of mercy.
Two thousand years ago, Jesus walked the earth in a particularly merciless time and place.
Just getting through the day was challenging – disease and danger lurked around every corner – and it was best to avoid the sick and desperate as much as possible.
The Roman occupiers were brutal, crushing any sign of dissent or rebellion, draining the poor for their own prosperity and glory.
And, sometimes, religious people were quick to judge, and stingy with mercy.
Compassion was in short supply.
But when Jesus walked the earth, he revealed a different way – a walk of mercy, calling the unlikeliest, most flawed, most messed-up people, to join his little band of followers – inviting them to choose a way of repentance, forgiveness, and new life – teaching them and all of us that we are worth more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.
When Jesus walked the earth, he offered a different way – a walk of mercy, offering healing – sometimes physical healing but more often soul healing - when all hope seemed to be lost.
In our own merciless time and place, Jesus still walks the earth – in and through us.
Compassion may again be in short supply, but it must not be so among us.
We are called to our own walk of mercy – inviting everybody - especially the unlikeliest, most flawed, most messed up people - to Jesus’ party – offering soul healing when all hope seems to be lost.
We are not our mistakes.
We are worth more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.
So, together, with God’s help, may we continue Jesus’ walk of mercy.
Amen.
Posts
