Three questions come to us from the scriptures today, but we should cover a fair amount of background before we engage those questions. And the background begins with cruelty. There is a cruelty at the outset of the story of Joseph and his brothers, who are the sons of Jacob.
Remember, there was also a certain cruelty in the story of Jacob and his elder brother, who are the sons of Isaac. Jacob manipulated his elder brother Esau, and deceives his father in order to gain the blessing that rightly belongs to his brother.
Remember, there is cruelty in the story of Isaac, who was the son of Abraham, who was tested by God and commanded to sacrifice his son, his only son, whom he loved, by killing him and making of him a burnt offering; a test which Abraham passed because he was shown to be willing to take his son’s life, but was not required to do.
Cruelty abounds in these stories, and yet God establishes a covenant of faithfulness and love. And God’s people tell the stories without any need to evade the cruelty behind them. Indeed, the effectiveness of the covenant, despite the cruelty, seems to be an important element of the way these stories are told.
By the time we get to the end of Joseph’s story, which is the end of the Book of Genesis, the end of the beginning, and which sets the stage for new episodes of cruelty for God’s people, who will become slaves in the land of Egypt… by the time we get to the end of Joseph’s story, when he has been reunited with his brothers, including his youngest brother Benjamin, and reunited with his father, who had believed his son to be dead for at least the past twenty years… remember that Joseph incited jealousy in his brothers, who plotted to kill him, but decided to sell him into slavery instead.
And remember that Joseph was thrown into prison because of a cruelty at the hands of the wife of his master. And after two years in prison, Joseph came to prominence in Pharaoh’s household because of his ability to interpret dreams. Remember that Joseph also showed wisdom and good judgment when his dream interpretations predicted seven years of plenty, followed by seven years of famine. And remember that when the famine came (as predicted) Egypt was prepared, because of Joseph’s careful planning.
And his brothers came to Egypt in need of grain during the famine, completely unaware that the one on whom they must now rely is the very brother who had suffered at the cruelty of their hands… so much cruelty has been endured. Remember that the brothers did not recognize Joseph (all grown up), but he recognized them.
Here was his opportunity for revenge. Here was the moment to settle the score. But Joseph doesn’t settle the score. He sends for his father and his youngest brother, and he reveals himself for who he is. And his father and brothers are fed, with all their flocks and herds. And they settle in this new land, under the patronage of Joseph. Remember that Joseph’s father Jacob died, wishing to be buried back in the land of Canaan, which Joseph arranged and oversaw.
And when Joseph returned from burying his father, a great question brings the story to a conclusion. The question is shared among Joseph’s brothers, who are worried about the family dynamics, now that their father is dead, and they are at the mercy of their brother, whom they had despised. They ask themselves, “What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us?”
This question is no trifling thought. If ever a family of origin provided reasons for the carrying of a grudge, this is the family, is it not? What if Joseph still bears a grudge?
Living, as we do, in an age of grudges, from Jerusalem to Washington, it seems like a poignant question.
Of course, Joseph would be justified in nursing a grudge against his brothers. How much therapy would it take to unpack and disarm the power of resentment to which Joseph could reasonably lay claim? Yes, Joseph had achieved a great deal in his life. But, was he driven, at least in part, by a resentment that seethed secretly inside him? What if he still held a grudge?
Here, at the end of the story, in the fiftieth and last chapter of Genesis, which might bring nothing but denouement, we have a powerful and anxious question. “What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us, and pays us back in full for all the wrong that we did to him?” his brothers ask.
And this great story, with all its cruelties, that have stretched over generations; a story that accounts for the beginnings of our faith, and the faith of so many millions, over so many millennia... this story concludes in the most remarkable way… not with vengeance or conquest, or an assertion of raw power… not with public shaming, and settling of scores… but with fraternal tears, as Joseph’s brothers seek forgiveness.
And Joseph had this incredible moment of insight and gentle wisdom, when he said to them, “Do not be afraid... Even though you intended to do me harm, God intended it for good.” Or, as another translation puts it, “you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good.” You intended it for evil, but God intended it for good.
Now, it’s tempting to misunderstand Joseph here. It’s tempting to hear in his response that old cliché, that everything happens for a reason, and that God has a plan. And indeed, the scriptures themselves allow such an interpretation, if one is prone to see things that way. But the key to understanding the outcome of this story is in remembering what Joseph’s brothers asked him for. They asked for forgiveness.
Frustratingly, the text reports that “he reassured them, speaking kindly to them.” It does not say, “and Joseph forgave them.” But I think the words of reassurance, and the kindliness amount to forgiveness.
Now, Joseph was not sure that forgiveness was his to offer. In response to his brothers’ approach, he posed a second important question, “Am I in the place of God?” He knew that forgiveness was a divine prerogative, and he, who had even wielded all the power of Pharaoh’s trust, was not clear that he had access to this power of God’s to forgive.
Joseph was inclined to forgiveness, that’s why he reassured his brothers. But since he was not sure the power lay in his hands, he interpreted the entire situation by placing it all in the context of God’s purposes, and he simply got in line with God and God’s purposes. And so he forgave his brothers by reassuring them and speaking kindly to them.
Matthew’s Gospel offers us a third question today, on the lips of Peter: “How often should I forgive?” Remember that one of the challenges that Jesus faces repeatedly in his ministry is the question of whether he has power to forgive sins. As far as the scribes and the Pharisees are concerned, the question is not open to debate. They shared Joseph’s long held assumption that forgiveness is God’s to give, and God’s alone. And are we in the place of God? So the mere question on Peter’s lips is bold, under the circumstances.
But Jesus wants to entertain the question - in fact, he’s eager to do so! Let’s talk about that, he seems to say! And he tells the parable of the unforgiving slave. It’s a parable that is easy to understand: forgive one another, since God forgives you.
Strangely, the parable concludes with a note of retribution: “you will be punished (tortured!) if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.” I tend to think that these kinds of endings to parables are meant as points of emphasis, and not as actual descriptions of how God will deal with us in the day of judgement. But who knows? In this case, the emphasis would seem to be required, since, when talking about forgiveness, we are treading on territory that had long been thought of as divine prerogative. Jesus is responding (in a way) to Joseph’s question, “Am I in the place of God?”
Yes! Jesus wants to say. How can you sit there and mutter words of reassurance, and speak kindly to your brothers, who have thrown themselves at your feet, after all these years… and not forgive them?!?!?
How can you listen to their pleas, which they have framed in terms of the last wishes of your dead father, and equivocate?!?!?
How can you have wielded such awesome power at Pharaoh’s side, and be unwilling to grasp this most sacred and marvelous power to forgive?!?!?
And what else can it mean, when everything they did they intended for evil, but God intended it for good, than that God intends forgiveness… and so should you?!?!?
Of course, Jesus knew that we would forget this lesson. He knew that we would fall back on our own cliché: to err is human, but to forgive is divine. Oh, really? Is that supposed to absolve us from the implications of the answer to Peter’s question, “How often should I forgive?”
For nineteen years in this country, as summer winds down and sends us hints of autumn, just weeks before the ancient Jewish high holy days, and the day of atonement for sins, all three of these questions have converged in America, as we contend with the cruelty of the memory of September 11, along with plenty of other cruelties that we have been introduced to since.
What if we still bear a grudge?
Are we in the place of God?
How often should we forgive?
Cruelty abounds. And yet God establishes a covenant of faithfulness and love with us. And as God’s people we tell the stories of ancient cruelties and ancient forgiveness, without any need to evade the cruelty behind them. Indeed, the effectiveness of the covenant, despite the cruelty, seems to be an important element of the way these stories are told.
And since cruelties have not come to an end, it’s important that we remember the reason for telling these stories. It is not so that we can nurse ancient grudges.
It is so that we can remember that to forgive is divine, and that yes, in Christ, God has taught us to be like him: to forgive without limit or boundary, and to forgive from the heart.
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
13 September 2020
Saint Mark’s Church, Locust Street, Philadelphia
“Joseph Making Himself Known to His Brethren” by William Blake, 1784-85