Dear friends,
I pray this finds you well.
This week’s readings are once again challenging. I’m grateful for a lectionary that compels us to wrestle with troubling texts.
The entire worship service can be viewed here.
If you’d prefer to listen to the sermon only, you may do so here:
The sermon is based on Genesis 50:15-21 and Matthew 18:21-35.
Genesis 50:15-21
15Realizing that their father was dead, Joseph’s brothers said, “What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us and pays us back in full for all the wrong that we did to him?” 16So they approached Joseph, saying, “Your father gave this instruction before he died, 17‘Say to Joseph: I beg you, forgive the crime of your brothers and the wrong they did in harming you.’ Now therefore please forgive the crime of the servants of the God of your father.” Joseph wept when they spoke to him. 18Then his brothers also wept, fell down before him, and said, “We are here as your slaves.” 19But Joseph said to them, “Do not be afraid! Am I in the place of God? 20Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today. 21So have no fear; I myself will provide for you and your little ones.” In this way he reassured them, speaking kindly to them.
Matthew 18:21-35
21Peter came and said to [Jesus], “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” 22Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.
23“For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. 24When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; 25and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. 26So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ 27And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. 28But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, ‘Pay what you owe.’ 29Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ 30But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. 31When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. 32Then his lord summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. 33Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ 34And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. 35So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”
Beloved of God, grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus.
Do you remember the story of Joseph?
Joseph was his father, Jacob’s, favorite son. It wasn’t just that his half-siblings perceived Jacob to be the favorite or felt Jacob was the favorite. No, scripture flat out tells us: Jacob loved Joseph more than any other of his children, because he was the son of his old age; and he had made him a long robe with sleeves. But when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brothers, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably to him.
Now Joseph didn’t help matters any by sharing a dream he had with his brothers. When he told it to them, they hated him even more. He said to them, Listen to this dream that I dreamed. There we were, binding sheaves in the field. Suddenly my sheaf rose and stood upright; then your sheaves gathered around it, and bowed down to my sheaf. His brothers said to him, Are you indeed to reign over us? Are you indeed to have dominion over us? So they hated him even more because of his dreams and his words.
The brothers actually plotted together to kill Joseph, but then thought better of it—not because they didn’t want to see him dead, but because they could make a little profit if they sold him to slave traders instead. This is how Joseph ended up in Egypt, where his divine ability to interpret dreams served him well and the Pharaoh rewarded him with overseeing the lands of Egypt. So it was that Joseph came to be in a position of great power and authority when his brothers came to Egypt during years of famine, seeking food to keep their people from starvation.
Joseph was able to help his brothers, despite what they had done to him. But after the death of their father, Jacob, Joseph’s brothers were concerned that without their father in the picture Joseph might finally pay them back for all that they had done to him. So they go to Joseph with a made up story about how their father’s last words were a plea for Joseph to forgive them.
Every re-telling of this story that I’ve encountered goes on to say that Joseph did indeed forgive his brothers. However, the text doesn’t actually say that. Joseph weeps, yes. He tells his brothers not to be afraid, yes. He never says, I forgive you. Instead, he poses a rhetorical question: Am I in the place of God?
Joseph refuses to do what is God’s to do. He speaks neither a word of forgiveness nor a word of judgment. Instead, he interprets what the brothers have done through a theological lens—he says that what they intended for harm, God intended for good. He doesn’t excuse their behavior or brush it off as not being as bad as it seemed, but he does proclaim that God was able to redeem even their sin. God was able to create good out of their evil.
The Hebrew word translated here as intend has at its root the concept of weaving or braiding. Out of what the brothers intended for evil, God wove good—taking all that sin and sorrow from a lifetime of struggle and broken relationships and somehow creating a beautiful tapestry of love and forgiveness.
That’s God’s work in the world—redeeming sin, weaving beauty from brokenness. That’s what we see on the cross—at the heart of the Christian story. From what we intended for evil—crucifying Jesus in order to silence his message of divine mercy for all people—God wove good. The cross has become a symbol not of death, but of God’s relentless love—God’s willingness to suffer, even death, for the sake of this beloved world. The cross has become a place not of abandonment, but of hope; there is nowhere God is not, there is no suffering we experience that we are not accompanied by the love of God.
And from that cross, from that death, God wove new life. The cross no longer holds Jesus. The tomb no longer holds Jesus. Sin and death no longer hold us. We are united with Christ. God has woven good. God is weaving good.
So what do we make of this last line in the parable Jesus tells about a slave who has been forgiven—abundantly—yet refuses to extend that same forgiveness to another? Jesus says: In anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.
I’m troubled by this picture of God torturing us if we refuse to extend the forgiveness we’ve received to the brothers and sisters who’ve trespassed against us. And I could do all sorts of mental gymnastics to try to create an image of God that works for me. I could say these words were added by Matthew and weren’t really spoken by Jesus. I could make some argument about the torture being the torture we inflict on ourselves when we fail to forgive. That by refusing to forgive we don’t hurt that person who has hurt us; we hurt ourselves.
I could say all these things, but I’m not sure they’re faithful to the biblical text. So, instead, I’m left with this troubling portrait of God. But perhaps even more, I’m left with a punch-in-the-gut kind of appreciation and understanding that when it comes to God, forgiveness is non-negotiable.
We simply cannot receive abundant, incredible forgiveness from God and then refuse to extend that same forgiveness to others. We just can’t.
So what do we do when we can’t find it in ourselves to forgive?
We pray. We ask God to help us do what needs to be done.
And maybe we take a cue from Joseph. We don’t excuse terrible behavior or brush it off as not being as bad as it seemed, but we do trust that God is able to redeem even this. God is able to weave good from evil as we offer those ragged pieces of our story to God, giving up the hold they have on us and offering them to God to make something beautiful. Begging God to make something beautiful.
Instead of saying, I forgive you, Joseph tells his brothers twice not to be afraid and he assures them that he will provide for them and their families. Words are cheap. Actions are costly. Joseph responds to his brothers—still lying and conniving—with love in action. He will provide for them and their families in a time of great need. He doesn’t allow their behavior to prevent him from living the life to which God has called him. He doesn’t allow their hating to prevent him from loving. Maybe that’s what forgiveness is all about.
When we forgive, we refuse to allow the behavior of our offenders to prevent us from living the life to which God has called us. We refuse to allow their hating to prevent us from loving. The words of Joseph become our own, Am I in the place of God? We leave the ultimate forgiving and the ultimate judgment to God. We offer the hurt and the mess and the pain and the brokenness to God, trusting that it is God’s to worry about, tend to, fix, redeem…not ours. It is God’s to weave into a thing of beauty. Not ours.
Let us pray: God, give us the grace to walk in Jesus’ steps, living not in judgment but in love—turning all our hurts over to you, trusting you to do your job so that we can do ours. Amen.