The Divine Compassion of Christ

This year, Sunday by Sunday, our gospel readings are taken from the gospel according to St Matthew. In the early church, Matthew was associated with Matthew the apostle, and so this gospel was assumed to be the first of the gospels (which is why it comes first in the canon of the New Testament) and that it presented clear and unambiguous eyewitness testimony. And yet, modern scholarship often asserts that Mark was written first, and you can see from the way in which Matthew uses parts of Mark’s gospel, he expands on various themes. Of course, in the fifth century, St Augustine of Hippo also recognized these similarities and concluded that Mark was Matthew’s abbreviator. Various attempts have been made to reassert the priority of Matthew, but most scholars these days are content to assert the priority of Mark. Mark was the first gospel to be written, these were followed soon afterwards by Matthew and Luke.

On the face of it, the gospel reading today is all about the character of Christian discipleship. Indeed, most commentaries present this passage as a key point in Matthew’s gospel, following the Sermon on the Mount when Jesus speaks from Chapter 5 onwards, he then acts from Chapter 7 onwards, and then here in Chapter 9 he sends out his apostles to imitate his teaching and ministry.

But one of the dangers of rushing to the missionary activities of the apostles recorded in the subsequent chapter, it is worth reflecting for a moment that there are three groups, three constituencies, which are significant for the gospel writer. Note that as the gospel unfolds, there is the call of the disciples (that’s the first group). There is also a group of friends (including a number of women) who are identified alongside Jesus. But there is a third group, a third constituency, which is often missed: the crowds.

The crowds are often characterized by a degree of anonymity. But it is interesting to note the way in which Matthew describes them in this passage. They are described by two Greek words: ἐσκυλμενοι and ἐρριμμενοι. The New Revised Standard Version says that they were ‘harassed and helpless’. But the description doesn’t really begin to capture the emotional resonance of these words. Eskulmenoi means something rather more like ‘tormented’, ‘oppressed’, ‘maltreated’, ‘stripped’, ‘dishevelled’, ‘abused’, while errimmenoi means ‘thrown away’, ‘cast out’, ‘beaten to the ground’, ‘trodden underfoot’. These are graphic words, which speak of injustice and oppression. The crowds are the poor and the dispossessed. And one of the reasons why the crowds listen to Jesus is because he speaks in parables which reveal again and again the struggles of people brought about by the rich and the powerful elites. The crowds are exhausted, worn out, beside themselves, totally and completely overwhelmed. That is what Jesus sees, people who are barely keeping it together. And how does he respond? Matthew says that ‘he has compassion on them’.

It is easy to assume that Matthew is suggesting that this demonstrates the humanity of Jesus. ‘Compassion’ is assumed to be a sign of our humanity. But there is so much more going on this passage. If we take seriously the church’s claims about the identity of Jesus, then this reveals as much about the character of God, whose face is revealed to us in Jesus Christ. God sees us in our need. God sees us in our quiet desperation. He sees that we are lost – sheep without a shepherd. And he has compassion.

Of course, this is an insight that stands at the heart of one of the liturgical celebrations which we marked last week. On Friday, this is the Friday following the first Sunday after Trinity, we celebrate the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. In the Franciscan tradition, this is known as the Feast of the Divine Compassion of Christ. Of course, we associate the Sacred Heart of Jesus with those rather kitsch statues of Jesus with a big red flaming heart displayed on his chest. I was once given a truly terrible holographic print, which if you rotated it was either the sacred heart of Jesus or the immaculate heart of Mary, and if you looked at it at just the wrong angle, it was rather disconcerting to see both. But don’t be distracted by really bad art. The theology of the sacred heart is worth pondering. History suggests that this devotion arose in the middle ages, and drew on a series of meditations on the wounds of Christ, the wounds inflicted during his Passion. And this devotion becomes a way of reflecting on the intensity of Christ’s love for us, his compassion for us, his self-giving love for us. It is a theology which takes us into the very heart of the Easter mystery. It is a theology which helps us to reflect on love’s endeavour and love’s expense.

But here’s the thing. We have rushed ahead in Matthew’s story to the passion narrative, and yet here we are at the beginning of the sending out of the Twelve Apostles by Jesus in Chapter 9. And this missionary activity begins not with fear or judgement, not even with a strategy or a vision. It begins with love and compassion in the face of broken hearts. That is the animating principle that underpins all Christian mission: love and compassion. And it is that conviction that lies at the heart of our life together as a Christian community. Subsequent Christian tradition may have presented those first apostles as Princes of the Church, as the forerunners of Bishops and Archbishops and Patriarchs in all their finery. But if you look at the description that Matthew offers, such finery does not get a mention. The first apostles are described as itinerant beggars. In sharing the good news of Jesus Christ, an apostle is just one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread.

The mission of the Church is to be filled with compassion for those who are hungry and those who are in need. When Pope Francis was first appointed, he said that: ‘I prefer a church which is bruised, hurting and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a church which is unhealthy from being confined and from clinging to its own security.’ And this is perhaps precisely what Jesus is getting at at the end of this passage when he says: ‘you received without payment; give without payment’. Again, the New Revised Standard Version only hints at the generosity of Matthew’s Greek – a more literal translation would be: ‘You have received a free gift; give a free gift.’ That perhaps captures perfectly the generosity of God’s grace, and the depth of his compassion. And we receive that free gift whenever we gather as honoured guests at Christ’s table, and in the beauty of that free gift of Christ’s body and blood, we will find the strength and inspiration to go out into the world. One of the great fathers of the early Church was once asked how you pray. He said, ‘Go out into the world and have compassion, and then you will find freedom of speech before God.’