The Mystery of God's Mercy

There is an element of panic at the heart of our two readings from scripture today. In our Old Testament reading, we are presented with Isaiah’s vision of the holiness of God. The prophet has a heavenly vision in the temple in Jerusalem and hears the angel say: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts’. He is describing an experience which is dazzling, tremendous, mysterious, and profoundly unsettling. But as Isaiah encounters the holiness of God, he becomes aware of his capacity for deception and obfuscation. He comes to the startling realization that deep within him is a perennial temptation to worship false Gods. 

As one commentator puts it, he sees that the world ‘is constantly multiplying both occasions and symbols of idolatry, whether in the summons to war or the enticements of appetite. More is better – more comforts, more money, more killing!’ (Daniel Berrigan, Isaiah: Spirit of Courage, Gift of Tears, p31). Isaiah speaks of our insatiable appetite for false gods – most of which will end up disappointing us. But Isaiah is touched by a vision of genuine holiness, and his reaction is one of panic. Isaiah cries out: ‘Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!’ Isaiah is overwhelmed by a sense of his own unworthiness. 

There is something similar going on in our gospel reading. There is the beginning of the preaching ministry of Jesus, the miraculous catch of fish, the sinking ships, the call of the first disciples, and what happens? Panic. We see the sheer panic of Peter, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man’. Peter is overwhelmed by a sense of his own unworthiness.

It is worth reflecting for a moment on these two experiences of divine encounter. We perhaps discover here something vital about the reality of God, something true about the character of holiness. 

In The Idea of the Holy, the German philosopher and theologian Rudolf Otto argued that while ‘holiness’ is often imbued with an ethical aspect, which hints at moral perfection, there was a perennial temptation to ignore another distinct element of holiness, which he described as the numinous. Otto was pointing to aspects of our experience of God which are dazzling, mysterious, profoundly unsettling:

The feeling of it may at times come sweeping like a gentle tide, pervading the mind with a tranquil mood of deepest worship. It may pass over into a most set and lasting attitude of the soul, continuing, as it were, thrillingly vibrant and resonant, until at last it dies away and the soul resumes its ‘profane’, non-religious mood of everyday experience…. It has its crude…manifestations, and again it may be developed into something beautiful and pure and glorious. It may become the hushed, trembling, and speechless humility of the creature in the presence of – whom or what? In the presence of that which is a mystery inexpressible and above all creatures. (Otto, The Idea of the Holy, pp12-13).  

We discover that our lives are bounded by a mystery, which continues to fascinate us and puzzle us in equal measure. And this experience perhaps lies at the heart of a religious sensibility. But while there may be all sorts of ways in which we can be persuaded to cultivate such a sensibility, through meditation or mindfulness, cultivating some kind of transcendant state or programme of moral improvement, we need to heed the warning at the heart of these two readings. All too easily these things can become the vehicle for deception, self-deception and obfuscation. And it is all too easy to imagine that if we haven’t cultivated an appropriate level of religious experience, then perhaps we are not trying hard enough.

But here’s the thing? Peter and Isaiah are not really trying. Isaiah is a reluctant prophet. He would rather run a mile than become the Lord’s prophet. And Peter is a reluctant apostle. When told to go out into the deep and cast his nets, he says, ‘Do I really have to? It wasn’t particularly successful last time, and it doesn’t look like we will have much luck if we try it again.’ But he responds, and such is the catch of fish that his boat almost sinks to the bottom of the sea. He is terrified.

For both Isaiah and Peter, the encounter with the living God is profoundly unsettling. And the consistent thread in the experience of Isaiah and Peter is that God meets both of them at a time when their hearts are broken and everything seems lost. God meets them in their time of need. And yet, they can hardly bring themselves to acknowledge their need of God. Their initial reaction is to refuse the gift of divine grace. They count themselves unworthy. As Peter puts it, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!’

There is I think something genuine and authentic about these responses to the divine presence. Just imagine if they had responded with a sense of entitlement, or suggested that their experiences were some form of divine validation of their status. I suspect that we would have recoiled in horror from both of them. Perhaps one of the things we learn from this is that the Church is most authentic when in the very moment it offers prayer and praise, it also acknowledges its own penitence and need for mercy. 

Recent events in the Church of England suggest that we have much to be penitent about. Our senior leaders have been too wrapped up with a sense of their own entitlement and privilege, ignoring the plight of the most vulnerable in our midst with very little sense of accountability. The succession of press reports of abuse and cover up have been distressing and demoralizing for all of us. In the face of the many safeguarding failures that have come to light in recent weeks, it should come as no surprise that the contemporary church is gripped by panic. Our only hope and prayer is that this week the General Synod can begin to make some real decisions about the independence of safeguarding and more adequate processes for holding clergy accountable. We have waited for too long. We need some real action now.

But the scriptures today offer us a further insight. As we look to the examples of Isaiah and Peter, they remind us that we need a church that is ready to acknowledge its unworthiness and penitence, to be accountable – and here is the great paradox at the heart of the Christian gospel. The truth is that when we choose the path of accountability, when we acknowledge the reality of sin, and open our hearts in penitence and faith, it is in precisely that moment that we discover the pearl of great price,… we discover the mystery of God’s mercy.