In one of William Shakespeare’s lesser known plays, The
Merchant of Venice, a young man named Antonio signs a loan with the wealthy
money lender Shylock on behalf of his friend who needs the money to woo his
love. Convinced he will be able to pay back the loan in time, Antonio agrees to
Shylock’s request that the fine not be financial interest but a pound of his
own flesh. And while his friend is able to impress and marry the girl he loves,
Antonio is not so fortunate. His wealth is bound in his ships at sea, and
tragically, the ships founder and sink. Antonio is not able to pay back the
loan.
The story climaxes in Act 4 at the trial scene. Shylock, who
has been hated and mistreated for being a Jew, sees this as his opportunity to
get revenge on Antonio who has called him a dog and spat on him. He is adamant
that he is owed the pound of flesh from near Antonio’s heart. He wants justice.
A contract was signed and should be followed. Justice must be served. The duke
overseeing the trial begs Shylock to show mercy. After all, who could be so
cruel as to take a pound of flesh? But Shylock, sharpening his knife on the
sole of his shoe, will not relent. He wants the letter of the law, and the duke
knows that he cannot overrule a contract.
If you want to find out how this story plays out, you must
read it for yourself. We just finished it in my seventh and eighth grade
English class. As my students read the trial scene, we talked a lot about
justice and mercy. One question I asked them was whether or not Shylock was
justified in his determination to take the pound of flesh. Justice must be satisfied,
right? The contract upheld? But what about mercy?
The same week that this conversation took place in my
classroom, a trial scene was playing out in the news. A year prior, a young
woman in Texas had walked into an apartment thinking it was hers, and had shot a
young man sitting in his own apartment. He died almost instantly. It was a
tragic situation. As this court case
came to a close and the young woman received her prison sentence, the victim’s
brother asked to speak. Surprisingly, he offered forgiveness to the woman,
extending mercy, stating that if it were up to him, she would serve no jail
time. His faith in Christ showed as he urged her to give her life to Christ. He
stood up and hugged her as she sobbed in his arms. What a picture of mercy!
At the same time, while also offering forgiveness, the young
man’s parents asked for justice. They wanted an investigation of how the court
case was handled, and they wanted the woman to be held accountable for her
actions. They were gracious but firm in their desire for justice.
As I pondered both the fictional story of Shakespeare and the
real-life story in Texas, I was reminded that we have a God of both justice and
mercy. We cannot choose one against the other. At the cross, both justice and
mercy met as God poured out his wrath in divine judgement for the sins of man.
Justice was served; sin was atoned for. Yet here we see the beautiful mercy of
the Father and love of the Son as Christ Himself bore that wrath, so that we
could be spared. What mercy! And now, for those of us who call ourselves God’s
children, we no longer stand under judgment, because the justice has been
satisfied. God’s gaze towards us who believe is always one of mercy. Praise the
Lord!
As Christ’s followers, we ought to be concerned with justice.
We ought to pray for and act for those who are mistreated and abused. We should
support our law enforcement and government as they seek
to bring about justice for victims everywhere. Yet, imitating our Father, we
are not only concerned with justice. We ought to love mercy and be people of
mercy who bend out the same grace and longsuffering towards others as our
Heavenly Father does toward us.
--Amy O’Rear
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