Sermon for August 20, 2023 – The Twelfth Sunday After Pentecost

Genesis 45:1-15; Psalm 133; Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32; Matthew 15:21-28

At first glance, today’s Genesis reading about Joseph presents us with an admirable moment of forgiveness and reconciliation. When we look at just the lectionary passage, Joseph appears to be a paragon of mercy, a model for how we approach reconciliation. But we know forgiveness and reconciliation are both difficult and messy. And so to see the full theological and emotional complexity of this passage we must look at the full Jospeh cycle, Genesis chapters 37-50.

In last week’s reading Joseph was a tattle-tale and his father’s favorite. He was hated by his brothers and sold into slavery. We were left feeling sympathy for Joseph as he was carried off to Egypt, but knew he wasn’t perfect either.

As we continue Joseph’s character becomes a bit more complex. In the chapters we didn’t hear from last week to today, we discover that Joseph is handsome and successful, rising to the position of overseer of his fellow slaves. Then we learn that Joseph is skilled in dream interpretation, and, upon interpreting Pharaoh’s dream, he advises Pharaoh to store up 20% of the harvest in seven years of abundance to feed the land in seven years of famine. He becomes Pharaoh’s second-in-command.

Finally, Joseph’s family life and his work life collide. Facing starvation in Canaan, Jacob sends his sons to Egypt to buy some of the grain hoarded there. It should not surprise us that Joseph can recognize his brothers even though they do not recognize him; his ability to interpret dreams has already demonstrated his perceptiveness.

That insight, combined with his control over the largest known food supply during that time of famine, gives Joseph all of the power in this situation. If Joseph is a stand-up guy, a hero with forgiveness in his heart, surely this is the point in the story at which we should expect reconciliation?

Rather than reconciliation, Joseph meets his brothers with manipulation. He pretends not to know them, accuses them of spying, throws them all in jail, and then demands that after they take their grain home, they return to Egypt with Benjamin, their youngest brother. Jacob refuses  until the family is out of food again and left with no other choice. So, the emotional roller coaster continues.

Rather than reveal his identity during the meal with his brothers, Joseph has his own silver cup slipped into Benjamin’s sack, setting him up for a charge of stealing. Judah, who, in our reading last week lobbied for selling Joseph rather than killing him, steps in to plead for Benjamin’s release for the sake of their father Jacob, whose “life is bound up in the boy’s life.”  It is at this point, with Jacob’s life on the line, that Joseph makes himself known to his brothers.

Genesis 45 is the climax of the Joseph cycle. All the dramatic irony of the story -- the details that we readers know but Joseph’s brothers do not, especially Joseph’s true identity -- builds to this moment, when Joseph reveals himself to his family.

It would be difficult to overstate Joseph’s position of imperial power in this story; anyone who wants to eat must come to Joseph. He hoards the grain, and he decides who may purchase it and at what price, at a time when all of the world is riddled with famine. Once powerless at the bottom of a pit, outnumbered by brothers who hated him, Joseph now gets to decide who will live and who will die.

The power to forgive must always be in the hands of the one who has been wronged; it is right for Joseph to be empowered to forgive the wrongs done to him by his brothers. But before Joseph weeps on their necks, he plays on their fears and exploits his imperial power over them. His actions may not constitute intentional revenge, but they certainly are not worthy of a Hallmark card, either. Forgiveness and reconciliation are both difficult and messy, and Joseph highlights just how difficult and messy it can truly be.

I want to share a story with you, a part my story, a true, tragic, and violent story that some might find difficult to hear. February 14th, 2010 was for all intents and purposes just another Valentine’s Day. Most people remember that day as one in which they spent time with their loved ones, while others remember that day as a time when they were without companionship. But I…I remember that day for an entirely different reason. That was the day my uncle was violently murdered.

For Richard, my uncle, and Stacey, his wife, it was a day that was spent mostly apart. Richard spent most of the day working, while Stacey spent most of the day at her mother’s house because her mother had been ill. Richard and Stacey wanted to spend the day together, have dinner together, and just enjoy and celebrate the love that they shared, just like anyone of us would want to do on Valentine’s Day. Knowing that this was not going to be the case this year, they decided that they would meet at a park north of Atlanta to exchange cards, have a quick picnic dinner, before Stacey returned to her mother’s house and Richard back to their house to watch their kids.

When Richard pulled up to the park he found that Stacey had not yet arrived. Then out of nowhere a man approached Richard’s truck, pulled out a handgun, and well, I will spare you the gory details. Needless to say, this is an American tale written each and every day. For most people, February 14th 2010 was a Valentine’s Day like any other, filled with love and companionship. For me and my family, that was the day my uncle died violently and alone.

I will never forget that day, how I felt, what I thought. My heart fell straight to my stomach.  I could not believe it. The man whom I loved, who had supported me when I needed him most, was gone, taken from us in the blink of an eye. One minute he was here and the next minute, pointlessly and violently gone. After a five month investigation the police arrested Stacey, the gunman, and the woman who was the go-between. All three were tried, found guilty, and will spend the rest of their lives in jail, without parole.

The perpetrators were caught. Justice was served. But did that bring back my uncle? No. Did it undo the pain of the past? Not even close. For me and for my family members, we were not ready to forgive. We were not ready to let go. And so it goes for all of us when we find ourselves in situations in which it is hard to forgive.

We resist forgiving another because we think that the person who hurt us ought to do or say something to mend the hurt, or repay us for what we have experienced. We want to put conditions on forgiveness. We resist forgiveness because of our own pride or even our lack of real sense of how much God has forgiven us.

Forgiveness means to release, to let go of the other.  Forgiveness is not denying our hurt; far from it.  When we minimize what has happened to us, gloss over it, tell ourselves that it was not really bad, we cannot really forgive.  Forgiveness is a possibility only when we acknowledge the hurt, the violence, the betrayal of another person’s actions or attitudes in our lives.  We have to name the sin and its impact on us in order to begin the process towards forgiveness.  Through naming it, our feelings of pain and anger are validated. Others see what has been done and understand the impact that the transgression has had on us. When it goes unnamed, ignored, or we run away and numb the pain, that sin, that transgression continues to control our lives.  We become entangled in it. We become bound by our feelings of hatred, fear, and pain. Our relationships with others become distorted. Our relationship with God becomes distorted because we block what God longs to show and give us: mercy and forgiveness.

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you. Holding a grudge imprisons you. Forgiveness sets you free. As Joseph toyed with his family, I wonder if he felt imprisoned by his desire for justice? Yet, when Joseph forgave his brothers, he wept. The release from the feelings that he held onto for so long was let go and he was overcome with relief.

Have my other family members forgiven Stacey and her accomplices? You will have to ask them. There were members of my family who were hoping for the death penalty as they saw that punishment as justified. We want to return the hurt by inverting the Golden Rule; “Do unto others as they have done unto you.” But that is not the way of Jesus.

As for me, I was tired of being a prisoner to my own feelings. I was tired of running away from reality. It took a long time to get to where I am now. It is still unfolding in a process that I am in the midst of. It has taken serious prayer time. Where it will end I don’t know, that is part of the greater mystery that is God. But I do know this; I am on a path of forgiveness and not vengeance. When I opened myself up to the possibility of forgiving them, the burden was lifted. When I uttered those words in my heart, and on my lips, the prison door was opened, and I was able to walk into the freedom created by forgiving others. It wasn’t easy, but it was possible and I am better and stronger because of it.

Remembering Joseph, telling his story, means remembering that some family relationships are deeply troubled, even violent. Remembering Joseph means reminding ourselves that even in the most deeply troubled family that has experienced unimaginable rupture, that forgiveness and healing are possible. Remembering Joseph provides us an opportunity to reflect on our experiences and remember that while the path to reconciliation is messy and difficult, it will lead to freedom. God has given us a way. God has given us Jesus as the example of how we can experience the emotional and spiritual freedom found in forgiveness.

Amen.