Have you ever noticed how some biblical stories read like a mini-novel? The story of Joseph, son of Jacob and Rachel, is one of those. I mean, here’s this handsome guy with the Technicolor rainbow robe, there’s suspense and drama and parts where I’m reading that I have to wipe my eyes because the tears are falling down my cheek.
If you remember the story, Joseph, as a child, was somewhat arrogant. He was the favorite of his father Jacob. If I had to name it, I’d call him the spoiled youngest brother – and God knows, I’ve teased my youngest brother about that often!
One of Joseph’s gifts was that he was an interpreter of dreams. This came in handy in his later life in Egypt. Joseph dreamed dreams that he interpreted as his brothers bowed down in subservience before him; and Joseph, on more than one occasion, would rub his dreams in his brothers’ faces. Joseph’s angry and jealous brothers wanted revenge – and they got it when they sold him into slavery, and then told their father Jacob that Joseph had been killed by a wild animal providing the evidence by killing an animal and putting that blood on Joseph’s coat of many colors.
Joseph’s sale into slavery eventually took him to Egypt, where through an unlikely series of events, a twist of fate or a mere coincidence, he became the secretary of agriculture. Despite what our circumstances appear, I’m comforted by the fact that I believe God is in control! Even in the midst of chaos!
During a severe drought, years later, the brothers came to Egypt looking for food. To make a long story short, Joseph recognized his brothers, but they didn’t recognize him. He had grown up to be quite handsome and quite powerful, but as the story goes, Joseph eventually revealed his identity to his brothers, and after some intense emotions, Joseph forgave his brothers.
However, the final moment of truth came when old Jacob, their father, died. As generous and forgiving as Joseph had been, his brothers were afraid that now that the old man wasn’t around to act as a buffer, feelings of revenge would come up within Joseph, and he might renege on his forgiveness and now pay them back for how they almost killed him and sold him into slavery.
So the brothers came up with a plan. They went to see Joseph, and fell down on their knees, and groveled before him. They made up a lie that their father had left death-bed-instructions that Joseph should guarantee his forgiveness was genuine.
Joseph didn’t do what I would probably be tempted to do by saying something like, “Look who’s in charge now! See, I told you those dreams were true!” No, he didn’t do that. With an attitude of grace and humility Joseph’s answer plays like a magnificent symphony, “My brothers, don’t be afraid! Of course you are forgiven! Do you think I am God to grovel before me?”
Wow! What a dramatic change from the old days of his arrogant youth when Joseph had rubbed his dreams in his brothers’ faces. What caused the change? Theologian J. Holub says, “I like to think of Joseph’s journey from his early prideful days of arrogance to his later years of humility and grace as something far more than merely maturing with age.
I like to think of it as an awakening – an awakening to the Realm of Grace that resulted in a fuller humanity for Joseph. It was a journey that didn’t come easy, and it wasn’t cheap. It wasn’t a polite excusing of his brothers’ grievous offenses, or a casual look the other way.
Joseph’s forgiveness was the result of a wrestling; an intense inner struggle; a contending with two parts of himself, the part that resented and wanted sweet revenge, and the part that longed for reconciliation.” Can you relate with that?
In this part of the story, Joseph laid aside his arrogance, let go of his need to keep score, and in letting go he opened his heart and received his brothers back as his own flesh and blood. Joseph’s awakening led him to the love and the forgiveness of his brothers. What a family reunion!
Today’s scripture reading is a lot like this story of Joseph because it’s an invitation into Grace. Peter asks Jesus, “Lord, if someone sins against me, how often should I forgive – as many as seven times?”
Now I don’t know about you, but there are few people in my life that I have had to forgive seven times, so this question that Peter asks Jesus sounds pretty generous to me. “Not seven times,” says Jesus, but “seventy-times seven.” That’s an idiom for no limits. Hmm … now we are getting a glimpse into the Realm of Grace.
“How often should I forgive,” asked Peter. Should can also be translated, must. “How often must I forgive?” Rev. Holub came up with a term I’d like to use called “Calculator Language.” Should and must are calculator language, and we love our calculators, don’t we? It’s so convenient to have them even on our smart phones!
We love keeping score! We are captivated by statistics. We measure the rain in hundredths of an inch. We talk about miles per gallon and bushels per acre. We turn to the sports or financial pages to read the stats and rankings of our favorite team – the numbers on the winners and the losers. And, we also keep score in our relationships.
Who said what or who did what and how many times did they do it or say it? We justify our words and actions in front of one another with our score-keeping. How many times have you said something like, “Well, I know I have my faults, but I’m not as bad as so and so …”
I’d like you to take this home with you: the invitation into the life of grace is an invitation to throw away our calculators.
That’s part of what the parable in our gospel for today is all about. The servant went to the king and asked, “Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.” The parable tells us the king forgave him lots of money. The king threw away his calculator!
But then the servant goes and demands a lot less money owed him by a friend. The friend begged for patience so he could pay him back. But with a firm grip on his calculator in one hand, and grabbing him by the throat with the other hand, the forgiven slave demanded to be paid, and when his friend couldn’t pay, he had him thrown in jail.
Many times when we are hurt, what happens is that we go around with a calculator in one hand and a list of demands and grievances in the other hand. We feel that the other person should suffer and pay for the offense against us. But the whole time, what’s really happening is that we are refusing to let go of our resentment, and when that happens we keep the other person, and ourselves locked into the past!
Jesus lived and died without a calculator in his hand. As intentional followers of Jesus, we can learn from his example.
Living in grace is living in freedom. Living in grace is living in the present – not locked in the past hurts of resentment and unforgiveness. Through Jesus’ example, we are called to lay down and throw away our calculators and live in grace.
What does living in grace look like in real life? Oct. 2, 2006 in Nickel Mines, Pa. a gunman named Charles burst into an Amish school and shot 10 children, five of whom died (Naomi, Marian, Mary Liz, Lena and Anna). It was a grievous and repulsive offense that shocked the nation. Within 48 hours, the Amish families and community of the slain children not only offered public forgiveness to the murderer of their children, but embarked on an effort to raise money for the children of their children’s murderer. Talk about living in grace – even in the most grievous of life circumstances.
When we come forward to receive communion – the bread and the cup – there is a great deal of mystery surrounding this ancient practice, as well as many interpretations. But today, I am going to embrace it as invitation to lay down my calculator and follow into the life of grace, the One whose life and death these elements represent. Such great love for you and for me. Amen.
Rev. Dan Koeshall is the senior pastor at The Metropolitan Community Church (The Met), 2633 Denver Street, San Diego, California, themetchurch.org. Services every Sunday at 9 and 11 a.m.
