Where Justice Meets Compassion
Lessons from Shakespeare and Scripture
μακάριοι οἱ ἐλεήμονες, ὅτι αὐτοὶ ἐλεηθήσονται.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. (Matthew 5:7)
The quality of mercy is not strain'd.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The thronèd monarch better than his crown.
His scepter shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptered sway.
It is enthronèd in the hearts of kings;
It is an attribute to God Himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this:
That in the course of justice none of us
Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy
This memorable speech from Act Four, Scene One, in Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice is spoken by Portia, a wealthy heiress who has disguised herself as a male lawyer in order to defend Antonio – the title character of the play – from Shylock, the Jewish moneylender who has demanded a ‘pound of flesh’ from Antonio in exchange for an unpaid debt. Earlier in the play, Antonio took out a loan from Shylock to finance a friend’s journey. The loan terms were pretty simple: Antonio would repay the money to Shylock when his merchant ships returned from their voyage; if he failed to pay up, Shylock will be entitled to a pound of Antonio’s flesh...literally!
When Antonio’s ships are declared lost at sea, and he cannot pay his debt to Shylock, the Jewish Merchant promptly demands his pound of flesh. Thus, Portia is prompted to plead for mercy in a courtroom on Antonio’s behalf. As a side note, we shouldn’t be too quick to judge Shylock. It is painfully evident that as a Jewish person, he has on numerous occasions suffered insult, injury, and humiliation at the hands of Antonio and his friends. Indeed, in Act I, Scene III., when the request for a loan is put to Shylock, he somewhat sarcastically and straightforwardly replies to Antonio, reminding him of his past actions, and wonders how it might be that now Antonio suddenly needs Shylock’s assistance: Shylock says:
Signior Antonio, many a time and oft
In the Rialto you have rated me
About my moneys and my usances:
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
And all for use of that which is mine own.
Well then, it now appears you need my help:
Go to, then; you come to me, and you say
'Shylock, we would have moneys:' you say so;
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold: moneys is your suit
What should I say to you? Should I not say
'Hath a dog money? is it possible
A cur can lend three thousand ducats?' Or
Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key,
With bated breath and whispering humbleness, Say this;
'Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies
I'll lend you thus much moneys'?
Now, you may be asking yourself, why is he quoting Shakespeare? Well, two reasons: First, I love Shakespeare! Second, upon reflecting on this command from Christ to mercy in the beatitudes, I asked myself, how can I describe this idea…mercy? I could think of no other description that captured the essence of this thing we call mercy than Portia’s plea. Who can hear these words and not feel the simple beauty they express?
On the surface, this beatitude hardly seems revolutionary and is easy to accept. After all, we all like the idea of mercy, which is familiar to anyone who even glances at Holy Writ. The concept of mercy is a thread that runs through every book of the Bible, from Genesis to Revelation. The Greek word is ἔλεος. It appears in various forms 593 times in the Greek translation of the Old Testament and 78 times in the New Testament. 671 times! ἔλεος! Mercy! Some scholars have argued that the eloquent words from Portia’s plea are a quote from Deuteronomy 32:1-2 which reads:
Give ear, O heavens, and I will speak;
let the earth hear the words of my mouth.
May my teaching drop like the rain,
my speech condense like the dew;
like gentle rain on grass,
like showers on new growth.
One of the oldest characterizations of God is found in Exodus 34:6-7. This ancient liturgical fragment describes God as “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love…forgiving iniquity and transgression.” It is a liturgical formula alluded to in multiple books of the Old Testament, including Numbers, Joel, numerous Psalms, Nehemiah, and, believe it or not, Jonah. It seems clear that Mercy is a quintessential characteristic of God and, as such, a quality we should wholeheartedly embrace as believers. Right?
So, with that, thank you for stopping by. Be well. Leave now and be merciful because “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy." If only it were that simple.
As a purely theoretical concept, mercy sounds like a good idea, and it is a good idea! Even those who reject Christ are impressed by these words. The problem comes when we find ourselves in situations where we are required to implement them. Approving of mercy and showing mercy are two very different matters. We struggle with this because needing to show mercy presupposes that real debt is owed.
It is a funny thing I have noticed: In our hyper-masculine, individualized culture, mercy is often portrayed as a weakness until one finds oneself in a situation that requires mercy to be dispensed in your direction! I get it. I don’t mind mercy when I’m on the receiving end. I’m all for it. But when I’m the one expected to show mercy? That’s when it gets complicated—because I can only show mercy to someone who doesn’t deserve it. That’s the whole point. And Jesus illustrates this beautifully in a parable from Matthew 18:23-34.
The story goes like this: A king had a servant who owed him an astronomical sum—an amount so large it was impossible to repay. When the king called in the debt, the servant fell to his knees, begging for more time. But the king, recognizing the hopelessness of the situation, did something extraordinary. He didn’t just extend the deadline; he canceled the debt entirely. He wiped the slate clean.
That would be a nice ending, wouldn’t it? Mercy is given, and the story is over. But Jesus keeps going. No sooner had the servant left the king’s presence than he ran into a fellow servant who owed him a much smaller debt. Without hesitation, he grabbed the man by the throat and demanded, “Pay me what you owe!” Desperate, His fellow servant used the exact words the first servant had just spoken to the king: “Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.” But the irony was completely lost on him. Instead of extending the mercy he had just received, the forgiven servant had the man imprisoned.
Jesus wraps it up like this: When the other servants saw what happened, they were heartbroken and went straight to the king. Furious, the king called the servant back in. “You wicked servant,” he said. “I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?”
The obvious question that comes to mind when we hear this story is why the forgiven servant couldn't see the hypocrisy of his behavior. The answer is simple: he had a legitimate complaint against the other man. This is precisely the problem with mercy. There is only one kind of person to whom you and I can show mercy: a person who doesn't deserve it.
There’s an old story about a mother who approached Napoleon, begging for her son’s life. He was set to be executed, and she pleaded with the emperor to show him mercy. But Napoleon was unmoved. “It’s his second offense,” he said. “Justice demands his death.”
The mother didn’t back down. “I’m not asking for justice,” she said quietly. “I’m asking for mercy.”
“But he doesn’t deserve mercy,” Napoleon objected.
“If he deserved it,” she replied, “it wouldn’t be mercy. And mercy is all I ask.”
Her words struck a chord, and Napoleon granted the pardon.
As Christians, we are comfortable with the language of grace. It is a part of our vocabulary. The nomenclature of grace is embedded in our hymnody. "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me." We say these things about ourselves, and we feel good about it. We enjoy the experience of God's grace. But it can be a very different story when it comes to showing that same grace to each other. It is one thing to sing about being a wretch. It is something else altogether to worship with the perceived “wretch” in the next pew! So, while we sing about grace, what we practice, in many cases, is retaliation. It's not that we despise the notion of mercy—how could we? But mercy does not come naturally to us and seems to work against our innate desire for justice. It is a paradox of sorts, this idea of a God believed to be merciful and forgiving on the one hand and ultimately just on the other.
What I know is that as followers of Christ, we are called, dare I say, commanded to imitate the divine quality of mercy. In Luke, Jesus tells his followers:
“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? … If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? …If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you?...But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return.a Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. (Luke 6:32-36)
I know it is hard. Mercy given implies a loss. The debt we are owed is wiped away. We would rather blame someone. Point out their failings and demand our pound of flesh, which by right is ours to demand. Yet, as hard as it is to understand, the example of Christ makes it plain that playing the blame game only begets bitterness and resentment. We know the language of blame too well and need an antidote. We need a force powerful enough to break this cycle of resentment. Jesus gives it to us in this beatitude: "Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy."
The only force powerful enough to break this deadly cycle of bitterness is the mercy of God. Mercy begets mercy. It is, I think, how the Christian faith works… in the passive tense. We love because we have been loved. We forgive because we have been forgiven. We show mercy because we have been shown mercy. As Portia so wonderfully stated:
That in the course of justice none of us
Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy
There is mercy in grace, compassion, and forgiveness - but there's mercy that obtains mercy. In this way, you see, mercy is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
For centuries, people have looked at this verse and said: 'Well, you must be merciful if God is going to be merciful to you. This means that you must forgive others if you are to be forgiven - but they're missing the point entirely because the idea is simply this: by performing acts of mercy, you will show yourself to be forgiven by God. That's the point: the person who has been shown mercy by God and knows what it is like to taste God's forgiveness and mercy - how can that person be anything but forgiving? How can such a person be anything but merciful to others in the same predicament?
Maybe that's what this beatitude means: our compassion, our love for the lost, our love for the poor flow out of a heart that has been forgiven and is overflowing with gratitude, out of a heart that has been shined upon by the grace, mercy, and the peace of God. When you have been the object of God's salvation, it ought to be that you show mercy to those around you - and the most extraordinary evidence that God’s love has taken residence in your heart is when you help the helpless, lift the downtrodden, and heal the broken-hearted.
In a daily devotional, commenting on the short verse in Acts 4:13 that reads, “They took note that these men had been with Jesus,” Charles Spurgeon commented saying:
A Christian should bear a striking resemblance to Jesus Christ. You have read books about Jesus, beautifully and eloquently written, but the best description of Christ is His Living biography, written out in the words and actions of His people. [1]
There is no mercy without grace. Here, the blessing is the same as the condition: the merciful are shown mercy. In the three beatitudes that precede this, the condition is the antithesis of the blessing: the poor in spirit are given the kingdom; those who mourn are comforted; the meek inherit the earth. In other words, the blessing answers our needs. Mercy stands as both the blessing and the need. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
I have four children of wonder. I call them that because I stand in wonder at the choices they make sometimes! All kidding aside, they are amazing humans, and it is a privilege to be their father. Like most kids, they have their moments. Raising kids is hard! We had all the “feels” in our household: anger, bitterness, resentment, heartbreak, and disappointment. Then, and now, when my children enter dark emotional places, I offer a simple yet powerful remedy: Do something kind for someone. Forgive when you don’t have to (yes, forgive your sister even if she doesn’t deserve it!). Extend unwarranted love and mercy to someone and watch what happens. I am happy to report a 100% success rate when my advice is taken and implemented. The mercy and kindness we extend to others refreshes, renews, and revives the one who gives and the one who receives.
Mercy stands as both the blessing and the need.
Finally, mercy, showing kindness and compassion to someone who has offended us when it is in our power to do otherwise, lifts us out of what we are on our own and radiates the love of Christ, enhancing our relationships with each other and God.
The merciful do their best to put their feelings aside and think about how someone else feels and experiences things. Mercy is not just about forgiving people but identifying with them and, as closely as possible, understanding their experiences. And I don’t know about you, but in this hurting and divided world, we need a lot more of that.
I want to add briefly that we need to learn how to extend some mercy and grace to ourselves, and we need to stress the importance of this to our children. I read this week that anxiety disorders affect 40 million adults ages 18 and older every year. That is 19.1 percent of the population. Even before the pandemic, anxiety and depression were becoming more common among children and adolescents, increasing 27 percent and 24 percent, respectively, from 2016 to 2019. By 2020, 5.6 million kids (9.2%) had been diagnosed with anxiety problems, and 2.4 million (4.0%) had been diagnosed with depression.
Beloved, take care of your soul. Accept the astonishing fact that you are not perfect, and you don’t need to be. Cultivate practices and find places that communicate the grace and love of Christ. You are more, so much more than your worst mistake. You are loved. You are not broken. You have a gift the world needs that only you can bear. Be kind to yourself and take care of your soul.
True mercy reconciles and renews. Nothing is more challenging to accomplish and more beautiful, so much so that it shocks us and defies our understanding. It is hard for our little human brains to imagine that we are forgiven for what we have done and what we will do. That is what Christ has offered us, this mind-blowing thing called preemptive forgiveness and grace.
It is an attribute to God Himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice.
Indeed, Mercy is the soil from which reconciliation and wholeness spring. It moves us beyond ourselves and into something divine and beautiful.
Beloved reader, as you go about your business in the days ahead, remember three things:
Mercy is easy to understand but hard to give. Yet, like Christ, unrestrained mercy eases our souls and fosters reconciliation.
The quality of mercy is twice blest; it enriches those who give and who receive.
Mercy lifts us from what we are on our own and radiates the light and love of Christ in the world.
[1] Spurgeon, Charles. Morning and Evening Devotions: Updated Language Edition. Grand Rapids, MI: Discovery House, 2016, 90.