February 23, 2025
Genesis 45:3-11, 15
Psalm 37:1-11, 39-40
1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50
Luke 6:27-38
The context of this sermon is
100% written by a human
I have been betrayed by someone I loved. It gutted me. It was unexpected and shocking, not least because this person was someone I trusted, who knew my secrets and was supposed to have my back. I know many of you have had a similar experience – that deep wound of being wronged by a person important to you. You know – as I do – what happens to that wound. It festers. It turns an angry red. It heals – but only partway – and leaves a scar of bitterness.
So, I read about Joseph, and I just don’t get him at all. His brothers didn’t bully him, they didn’t lie to him, and they didn’t sneak around his back. They were jealous and they tried to kill him. They left him for dead; they thought he was dead. And when they finally run into him again, they aren’t happy to see him alive. They are afraid for themselves. Now that he has power, they are afraid what he will do to them as an act of vengeance.
We go through life, all of us, suffering many cuts along the way. There are times when people disappoint us, intentionally or otherwise. At school, we navigate friend circles where some stay in and others are forced out, and as adults, that translates into workplaces where we tangle with colleagues who have their own interests at heart, just as we often do. We encounter bullies who appear to have no remorse. In the end, though, it is not the many small cuts of strangers that wound us; it is those we receive from the ones we invited into our lives, the ones we love most that do grievous harm.
And that is what makes Joseph’s act of forgiveness so remarkable – the harm was done by those who knew him best, those he trusted to have his back. And yet, he welcomes them lovingly as brothers. He offers them land and a place beside him. He releases them from their guilt: their act of violence, he says, was God’s plan. Don’t blame yourselves.
Could any of us forgive in such a pure and fulsome way? Rather, we might feel frustrated at the instructions in our gospel: to love our enemies, to turn the other cheek when we are slapped on the first one, to give our shirt to the robber who steals our coat. “Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you,” we are reminded. We know that one – we can try to meet that standard, we think. But we are not the robbers; we are the slappers. What of them? When the gospel says, you don’t get points for loving those who love you; go out and love those who hate and wrong you, we think, “Good luck with that.”
Of all the instructions of the gospel, forgiveness may indeed be the hardest. It is a wound we struggle to heal, pray as we do, try as we might. We want to forgive – we know it is the right thing to do – but we cannot. We might fake it for a while, but under the surface, the pain is there, and the wound keeps opening.
I wish I had a three-step-guide to forgiveness, for myself as much as anyone. Some of the advice I have read over the years is sound: talk it through with someone – including God; don’t hold it in, write a letter to the person who has grieved you as a way to get out your feelings; try to understand their side of what happened; see them as flawed, just as you are.
That might get you partway, but not all the way. Forgiveness ultimately is a choice; and you know when you have truly made it. You wake up and you feel lighter; you don’t feel angry; you can be benevolent and understanding even when the person commits the same offence. And not in a judgy and sanctimonious way – as our gospel also cautions – but in a loving way. I have experienced that as well – hopefully you all have – so we know the difference. It comes as a relief, a burden finally lifted, and we realize how heavy bitterness can truly be.
But, come on now, didn’t Joseph have the forgiveness advantage? He came out on top; he had all the power; forgiveness was his to offer and the brothers could accept his crumbs. Except, like so many stories in sacred text, the drama of the tale is meant to show us a universal truth: we all have the power of Joseph. We are loved by God, and through that love, we are granted the choice of forgiveness. By following the gospel, we are guided not only to heal others, but first to heal ourselves – of the wounds of bitterness and anger that we needlessly carry. The point that Joseph made when he saw it as God’s doing can be taken many ways: first, he recognized what he learned from this act of betrayal. Perhaps, he learned humility, and to consider how being favoured – as he was by his father – affects the lives and self-worth of others But, he is also saying to his brothers, “This isn’t about you; this is about God – my forgiveness is a choice between me and God, and how you respond to it is your choice, too.”
Here is what I do know about forgiveness: you cannot force it. You cannot push someone into it. You cannot decide for them that the time is right. Just as you cannot force the person whom you feel is at fault to ask for forgiveness themselves. Even when we forgive, it may not bring about the results with that other party that we wish to happen.
But it didn’t matter to Joseph how his brothers received his forgiveness; it has to be a gift freely given. Just as there is nothing in the gospel this morning that says, “Forgive your enemies and all will be well.” The gospel is about us, and only us – and the cost of judgement and bitterness on our souls and psyche.
If I have one piece of advice to give about forgiveness, searching for answers in the Bible, it is this: Forgiveness, to happen, must first be a selfish act. It cannot be about the other person. It is not about making things right or fixing the relationship. It can certainly not be about getting that long- awaited apology which may never come. We must forgive ourselves first. God helps us along the way: by forgiving us for, well, everything, and by giving us countless examples of it in scripture and showing us the unexpected fruits of forgiveness in the gospel. But we must realize, that like Joseph, it is our act alone, and the weight we are lifting can’t be placed on the other person. We can give it to God, who carries all things.
So, let us admire Joseph, for this great selfish act, between him and God. His brothers may have gotten lucky, but they are not the recipients. The truth of forgiveness, as the gospel depicts it, is that it is not ultimately a gift we give others. It is the gift we give ourselves so that we might walk more lightly, more freely, and more graciously in the world.
Amen.
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