Genesis 45, Luke 6

In order to understand the story of Joseph and his brothers, we need to return to the origins of this dysfunctional family. Their father, Jacob, was the younger of two sons to Isaac and Rebekah. After tricking his father into promising him his brother Esau’s inheritance, he was conned by his father-in-law Laban into working fourteen years to win the right to marry Laban’s daughter Rachel, taking her sister Leah as a wife along the way and using two of their slaves, Bilhah and Zilpah, as surrogates. In all, Joseph and his brothers numbered twelve, and they had countless sisters, though the scripture only records the name of Dinah. These children were raised together with quarreling and infighting in the ranks. And it all came to a head when ten of the brothers conspired against their father’s favorite son, Joseph.

Joseph had a special gift to interpret dreams. In his dreams, he had a vision that he would be raised above his brothers and even his own parents. Now, of course his older brothers hated him for this. But his father Jacob was a deeply spiritual man, and he wondered whether the dreams were from God.

One day, when the brothers were out shepherding in the field, they made a plan to kill Joseph. But traders came along and they decided to sell him instead. Thinking they would never see him again, they took his coat and dipped it in blood and sent news to their father that Joseph had been killed. So we see the theme of deception continue.

In Egypt, Joseph encounters a rollercoaster of good and bad fortune. //First, he finds himself in proximity to power, which he quickly loses when his master’s wife falsely accuses him of sexual assault. Then, he is sent to prison, but he encounters two of pharaoh’s officials who are also sent there, and they ask him to interpret their dreams. Joseph tells one that he will be impaled by the pharaoh, and this man meets his untimely death days later. The other one, however, Joseph promises will have good fortune, and he asks him to remember him when he is restored to power. But when the man gets out of prison, he forgets Joseph until two years later when the pharaoh needs his own dream interpreted.

Long story short, pharaoh calls Joseph to explain his dream, Joseph warns him that there is a famine coming, and pharaoh puts Joseph in charge of the preparations. So Joseph goes from being the favored son, to a slave, to a prisoner, and finally, the second in command in one of the most powerful nations in the world. Meanwhile, his brothers were a few years away from a famine which would threaten their lives.

When the famine comes, Egypt has stored up enough grain to provide for the people and also make a quick buck off of the surrounding nations. People came from all over to buy provisions. Joseph’s brothers were among these people.

When they saw each other, Joseph immediately recognized his brothers, but they didn’t recognize him. It had been over a decade, and he had grown into a man. He was powerful. He certainly didn’t meet the expectations they had for him, if the thought of him had even crossed their minds.

This is the moment when we would expect Joseph to get his revenge. Or perhaps an “I told you so”. The very men who wronged him stand before him, but Joseph doesn’t see them as the ones who exchanged his life for a bag of silver. He sees the gaunt faces and empty bellies of starvation. He sees the uncanny resemblance of his father’s eyes. And he is happy.

The last interpretation we see Joseph make is not an interpretation of a dream but the interpretation of his own life. He sees God working throughout his life, through slavery and prison and hardship, bringing him into safety so he could save his brothers. He reframes his suffering in this way, “What you intended for evil, God intended for good”. And the result is that Joseph is able to choose the way of mercy, the kind of mercy that Jesus describes in the gospel reading. Love your enemies and do good to those who hate you.

We will reflect more on this in a bit. Now let us invite God to shape our hearts as we sing hymn #322 in the Blue Hymnal “Spirit of the Living God”.

As I read Joseph’s story this week I was struck by how powerful stories of forgiveness can be. Because forgiveness is really difficult.

I remember back in 2015 when the story broke that Dylann Roof, a 22-year-old white man, had shot and killed nine black Christians at a bible study at Mother Emanuel AME, Charleston’s oldest black church. I was traveling, and I watched the story unfold from the television in a hotel lobby. The screen flashed images of Dylann holding confederate flags, a recognizable symbol of hatred and white supremacy. The reporter talked about his manifesto which outlined this hatred and called for violent action against people of color.

Then the survivors of the attack spoke, and the families of those who were killed. One after another, they spoke words of mercy and forgiveness. They spoke of repentance and the grace of God. I felt as if I was watching on with the rest of the nation bearing witness to the courage of a community of faith that I could never understand.

I was gripped by the pain in the voices of mothers, sisters, and friends. And to be honest, I wonder what life is like for them today. I do not have this answer.

I do not understand the grace which is required to choose forgiveness in the face of tremendous evil. I know that all Christians are called to lives of forgiveness, but I must confess that I struggle to even let go of silly grudges that I carry with me.

When I was in high school, I got into a fight with one of my best friends over a boy. In hindsight, it feels really small, but at that time in my life, it was a life-changing event. I lost friends, I had my heart broken, and my confidence took a hit. The humiliation was too much to bear. After graduation, I only kept in touch with a few friends, and I cut all ties from the friend who I felt had betrayed me. I moved away for college and she stayed in town. We didn’t run into each other again until years later, when I was out one night at karaoke with Rola.

We were at the only karaoke spot in town, and I looked across the room and saw my ex-best friend and my heart dropped. All the shame and fear returned, and suddenly I was my seventeen-year-old self again. In my head, I wanted nothing more than to forgive her and be friends again. But my heart still felt the old wounds that never really had a chance to heal.

I don’t quite remember the words of the conversation that followed, but I remember the familiar comfort of a hug I hadn’t known in years. The heaviness lifting from my chest.

I had been held captive by my own anger and resentment for so long.

And this was over something as small as a prom date. I know that you are carrying things, too, much heavier burdens, much deeper wounds, much more unfriendly enemies. All of us are carrying frivolous things, too, waiting for someone else’s apology before we give our own. Not wanting to admit when we were wrong.

I don’t tell these stories in order to give instructions for forgiveness.

No one can tell you how to forgive. Forgiveness is a process that can take us a lifetime. Jesus told his disciples they must forgive not once, but seventy times seven times. In other words, the first time may not be enough for us to heal. For deep wounds, we may need seventy times seven times.

But the good news is that we worship a God who is the master of forgiveness, who has forgiven us seventy times seven times and whose grace goes before us and calls us back. As we have received this grace, so may we impart it to one another.

I’d like to end with a word of hope from one of my favorite hymns:

We cannot measure how you heal or answer every sufferer’s prayer.

Yet we believe Your grace responds where faith and doubt unite in care.

Lord let Your Spirit meet us here To mend the body mind and soul

To disentangle peace from pain And make Your broken people whole.