Merit and Grace

Sermon by the Revd Dr Brutus Green
Readings: Genesis 50.15-21, Psalm 103.1-13, Romans 14.1-12, Matthew 18.21-35 

Last week the very eminent American professor of philosophy Michael Sandel gave a lecture on the tyranny of merit.

He follows another distinguished American professor of Law, Daniel Markovits, in a recent attack on the well-loved idea of meritocracy.

Their essential argument is that the idea of a meritocracy is very attractive.

It suggests a just world, in which those who have talent and work hard are rewarded.

The tireless army chaplain receives the comfortable parish in leafy Putney.

The world is fair and efficient and people get what they deserve.

It’s the idea that underpins the American Dream, it was a pillar of New Labour’s vision:

Equality of opportunity.

What these two professors find is the case, though, is that more than ever a person’s chances of success are dependent on their parents’ income and social group. 

But more importantly, the idea of meritocracy is one that makes people dreadfully unhappy.

For the ‘winners’ the idea creates a sense of entitlement – 

I deserve my wealth, 

but also of anxiety – needing to maintain success for self-worth,

and exhaustion – highly paid people now work more hours than ever before in history and busyness, hard work is seen as virtuous.

Those who are not successful, meanwhile should blame themselves; lack of ability or application;

Leading to low self-esteem and shame for low-paid work.

My income is the measure of my success, is the fuel of my self-worth.

More than ever in this crisis, it’s clear that if, as a child, you don’t have your own room, access to a computer, the internet, outside space, a good diet, you may have something of a disadvantage.

But under the ideology of merit, the smart people with degrees and suits have earned their place in society by hard work and application,

And we all clap along at graduations, and celebrate our justified successes.

We are creating a stratum of people who are entitled, anxious and exhausted,

And another stratum of people who feel worthless and powerless.

We have a problem.

It’s an interesting problem and you can read plenty more about it.

I bring it up though because historically it’s related to a Christian heresy that continues to needle its way into the church and our journeys of faith.

This is the damnable heresy of justification by works.

Surprisingly, this is a British heresy; 

its leading exponent was a fourth-century British monk.

It’s also a leading cause of the Reformation eleven centuries later, and like a weed crops up surreptitiously when the church isn’t looking.

So let’s be totally clear about this.

There’s nothing you can do to deserve salvation.

You can’t earn God’s love.

You can’t win at church.

As far as your immortal soul goes, and your eternal fate, it’s not something to be achieved.

Whether you’re kind or selfish in no way impacts God’s love for you.

Which is to say you cannot earn;

you cannot merit salvation.

Now we know this.

We have the word grace.

It gives us gracious, gratuitous, gratuity

Salvation, eternal life, God’s love, God’s spirit within us, is quite simply a gift.

Free.

Unearned.

Unmerited.

This is, if you like, the first rule of Christianity.

Eternity, peace, reconciliation is the free gift of God to creation.

But most people don’t believe it.

I suspect part of it is that need to be liked, to gain approval.

Children learn this very quickly.

Oberon now knows all the animal noises, including the octopus, the ant-eater and the cheetah.

You can test him if he’s ever allowed back to church.

Part of the joy comes in getting it right, seeing the smile, the echo of the same sound.

Most of us are constantly looking around – to friends, neighbours – for acceptance, approval.

We want to be able to earn God’s approval.

And we also frequently think of life as a game, a challenge, a contest.

We want to be winners.

To succeed.

Perhaps, to exceed our peers.

My family for years had ‘the golden child’.

You could earn this sobriquet by outperforming your brothers in achievement or filial duty.

There’s a part of us that wants to be that golden child,

And it’s not good enough to be loved, to be good;

We yearn for the comparative:

To be ‘better’, to be ‘more loved’;

Best of all to be most loved.

To win the prize.

I blame the parents.

So God is not a meritocrat.

There is not an elite, a true church, that has earned salvation.

I’m reminded of the joke where St Peter is showing a newcomer round heaven, when they notice a high wall with a lot of loud singing behind it’

When she asks, Peter says: “Shhhh. That’s Holy Trinity Brompton – they think they’re the only ones in here.”

Grace is the free gift of all creatures.

Though for all of us, it may be a journey to recognise that we are each loved and of infinite significance.

You matter.

This is the undisputed truth in Christian teaching, but salvation by works is always creeping in.

So even in some of the most reformed churches people would become obsessed about living pious lives in societies that looked like a Handmaid’s Tale, in order to prove they were among the elect, the chosen of God.

Their reasoning was that good works don’t earn merit, but a life of good works is good evidence that God has chosen you.

That’s really merit by another name.

You cannot earn salvation.

God has chosen you and I know this because God has created you.

He thought it worth the time.

You are loved and you have all eternity before you to learn and enjoy that.

Now I bring this up because of today’s Gospel on forgiveness.

Part of the principle of any system of merit is about counting.

So to calculate who is the golden child you multiply the number of good acts by the effort taken and impact of those acts.

You then subtract the corresponding intensity of bad acts.

It’s like tokens on cereal pack: collect 10 tokens and then send in a self-addressed envelope.

This is also how justice operates.

Justice is usually depicted as a set of scales.

So the good and bad are weighed up – as the prophet Daniel says: ‘we are weighed in the balance and found wanting’.

So Peter asks today, ‘how many times should we forgive our brother’

Jesus’ answer is effectively that you can’t put a number on it.

Forgiveness is not quantifiable.

It’s not measurable.

It doesn’t keep count.

It is not earned.

It’s not merited.

As St Paul says elsewhere: “love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”

Like Joseph earlier forgiving and looking after his brothers.

And as we see in the parable, it has nothing to do with the one who has wronged you.

The slave of the king does nothing to earn that forgiveness.

He is a slave.

He merits nothing.

Neither does the fellow slave.

Forgiveness is everything to do with the one who is wronged. 

It proceeds freely from the heart of the king.

It is absent in the slave.

But what the parable also reminds us is that as forgiveness belongs to God,

As Portia in the Merchant of Venice argues – ‘it is the attribute to God himself’,

So we can find this divine quality in ourselves when we are also able to forgive.

When we forgive we participate in the divine love.

This doesn’t merit for us forgiveness.

That has come first.

But as we come to understand ourselves as loved, forgiven creatures so will we discover within ourselves the ability to love and forgive.

So if you’re feeling successful, by which I mean entitled, anxious and exhausted, it’s Sunday – take a break – you don’t have to earn your place here.

And you’re not higher or lower than anyone else, whether it’s your first time here, or you’re churchwarden. 

And if you’re feeling ashamed and worthless, welcome.

Today is the first day of your eternity.

You are loved.  You are forgiven.

Go and do likewise. Amen.