Owe no one anything, except to love one another, writes Paul to his congregation of Romans. And, it is written elsewhere, Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. (1 John 4:7)

Everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.

It feels to me as though today’s Gospel reading (Matthew 18:15-20) is like one of those optical illusion pictures where, depending on your perspective, they can look completely like one thing or completely something else. A rabbit or a duck, a vase or a pair of faces looking at one another – you know the kind of thing. We can read this passage for judgement, let such a one be to you as a Gentile or a tax collector, or we can read it for mercy, for love: where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them. It’s a matter of perspective, and a matter of choice.

Last month I was in Cornwall, England, and I visited St Michael’s Mount. In the church on the little island there is a bronze statue of the archangel Michael defeating the devil [I’ve written more about and shared images of this encounter here]. The devil is at his feet, and Michael’s sword is in his hand. It is a vision of victory, of judgement, of the defeat of death and sin and of the enemy. But the way that this sculptor, Lyn Constable Maxwell, has formed it, it is also an image of mercy. Michael’s sword is in his hand, but he holds it by the blade, not by the hilt. Its tip is turned away from the figure at his feet. He is not about to strike. Instead, his other hand reaches down toward the poor devil, inviting him to turn back toward the side of the angels, to come back to the kingdom of heaven, to repent and be restored to the fellowship from which he once had fallen, even Lucifer, even now. For God alone is the judge, and sometimes mercy is the judgement call.

As the psalm-writer says repeatedly, the mercy of God endures forever (Psalm 136).

So when Jesus says, “let such a one be to you as a Gentile or a tax collector,” we can hear “unconscionable; shun them,” or we can remember how Jesus approaches Gentiles and tax collectors in the Gospels. How he healed the daughter of the Canaanite woman, and the servant of the centurion. What would come to mind if he had said, “treat such as one as a Samaritan?” How did Matthew, the disciple who was himself a tax collector, and for whom this Gospel is named, hear these words, and maybe write them down. Do you remember his story, how Jesus called him directly from counting his coins to being one of the twelve (Matthew 9:9)? What did it mean to Matthew, whom Jesus called friend, for Jesus to say, “let such a one be to you as a tax collector”?

In these readings, to be sure, there is righteousness and there is wrongdoing, truth and falsity. Harm may have been done. Mercy is not about papering over the cracks or whitewashing the stains, still less about letting harm continue to be done. Michael, the archangel, even in his most merciful posture, is not letting the devil run free or let loose again with his trouble and strife. He has not let the devil off the hook. But God’s mercy, God’s love endures all things.

I’ll be honest, there are people out there who make me really angry. There are things out there that make me want to throw up my hands in despair. The climate crisis, and the cruelty that it inflicts on those in harm’s way. The wars and rumours of wars that persist, the refusal of peace. The priests of profit who walk on the other side of the road from those who are beaten down. But Ezekiel and the archangel are clear about my complicity. The prophet and the apostle don’t allow me to shrug and walk away, or to wash my hands, nor to raise my hand in anger, nor to lower my voice in resignation.

Ezekiel the prophet makes the whole community responsible for the preservation of love, calling out evil not for self-justification but so that there is a chance to return to the love of God. The goal is not to work out whom to shun but how to live more fully into the love of God. Thank God; for I am a Gentile and while I might not be a tax collector, I did work for the government for a hot minute back in the day.

Paul writes to his congregation of Romans that they should owe nothing to anyone but love. Jesus lays out the steps for approaching conflict resolution and restitution, and ends with that ironic appeal to the love that he has shown to the least and the lowest of these, the mercy of God made manifest to a sinner like me. Remember, Jesus says, the Gentiles and the tax collectors. Remember my call to them. Remember, he is saying, my call to you.

The responsibility of being in this Beloved Community, this community formed by the love of God and formed for the unconditional love of God and neighbour; this is a high calling and a tall order and we can hear it in the questions we answer and the promises we make in the Baptismal Covenant, on behalf of ourselves and our community. To rely on God’s mercy when we get it wrong. To proclaim the better story of God’s love for the world and every creature in it. To strive for justice, peace, dignity. To remain in community, through thick and thin, in the apostles’ teaching, and in fellowship, and in the prayers. And, we can hear throughout it all God’s help, God’s promise to help us to learn how loving and merciful God really is. This love that is our standard and Love our standard-bearer. We love because God loves us first.

 In baptism, we proclaim that we are born again, in the Sacrament of new birth; born of God, which is to be born of love. Owe no one anything, then, except to love one another. And remember the Gentiles and the tax collectors, the Samaritans and the sinners, the outcasts and the aliens, and how Jesus loved them. Where ever two or three of us gather in his name, he is still and always with us

The readings used for this Sunday sermon were: Ezekiel 33:7-11; Psalm 119:33-40; Romans 13:8-14; Matthew 18:15-20 (Year A Proper 18 Track 2)