WARNING: Explicit Material (Reflections on Epiphany 7, Year C)

"Joseph Forgives his Brothers" Fracois Pascal Gerard (1770-1836)

“But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.” (Luke 6:27)

When we last left Jesus (in last week’s assigned Gospel from the RCL), he was delivering his “Sermon on the Plain.” He was warning folks that things change. Those who are miserable today will have joy in the future, and those who are top dogs now might just get screwed later on. In the Gospel for Epiphany 7, Year C (Luke 6:27-38), Jesus gives his disciple—and us, too!—some pretty explicit directions. These kind of boil down to two rules:

1.      We have to forgive and love all the rotten, stupid, hurtful anal sphincters (metaphorically speaking) in our lives, and

2.      We have to be selfless and exceedingly generous.

As I guess you’ve figured out by this time, I’m a pretty liberal theologian. I don’t consider that every word in the Bible should be taken literally. The Bible is made up of many writings of various genres, and I think we can get away with seeing some of it as allegorical.

But not this passage. This is literal. It means just what it says.

The trouble is, many of us suck at following these directions. Have you ever been hurt? Really hurt? Have you been molested, abused, betrayed, wounded, lied about, beaten, or robbed? If you have, I’m guessing that love and forgiveness are pretty low on the list of things you’re wishing on the sack of scum who hurt you. But loving and forgiving is what Jesus tells us to do.

The compilers of the RCL have, in their wisdom, married this Gospel passage to a reading from Genesis (Genesis 45:3-11, 15). This Hebrew Scripture narrative is part of the story of a guy who really got hosed by others. Joseph, the eleventh son of Jacob, is his daddy’s favorite. If dad’s obvious preference for him weren’t enough to anger his jealous older brothers, this little snot tells the other boys that he has divine dreams in which he sees himself ruling over his siblings. Consequently, the older lads can’t stand this kid. Deciding that killing him might be a bit extreme, they sell Joseph as a slave to Arab traders and tell their old man the kid was killed and dismembered by a wild animal.

Now, I know a lot of folks have felt themselves wronged by their siblings. Still, you’ve got to admit that being sold into slavery would be a pretty hard thing for any of us to get past.

Fast forward Joseph’s story to the 45^th chapter of Genesis. The kid has grown up, been freed from slavery and prison, and has risen to become the Prime Minister of Egypt. He’s got an Egyptian wife, a company car, and he’s been put in charge of the Royal Exchequer and been made Minister of Agriculture. There’s a global famine going on, and Joseph is making the Pharaoh of Egypt even richer by price-gouging desperate foreigners. When his treacherous brothers show up in Egypt starving for food, he has a chance to pay them back for the dirt they did to him.

But he doesn’t.

He chooses forgiveness. NOTE: He chooses it. There’s a difference, as Gandhi and Dr. King taught us, between forgiveness and mere submission. Submission is accepting someone else’s crappy behavior because you really have no option. Forgiveness is knowing you have the power and the will to fight back and be revenged, but you’ve made the conscious choice not to do so. Forgiveness comes from a position of strength.

Generosity is also a product of strength. In her book Nine Steps to Financial Freedom, finance guru Suze Orman uses the analogy of the closed fist. If your fist is closed around what you have, nothing more can come into it. Giving is a matter of faith. Stinginess is a matter of fear. When you obey Jesus’ command to generosity, you’re making two statements of faith. First, you’re saying you believe in God’s providence. You can give because you know God won’t let you starve. You’re also saying you believe in that to which you give. You’ve made the choice to extend God’s blessings to a righteous cause. You’ve nudged the Kingdom of God just a little bit further forward by your generosity. So ask yourself: Would you rather be faithful or afraid?

Jesus asks some hard things of us in the Gospel. Reading it is like getting a performance review by your boss. How do we measure up to these instructions? Do we have the courage to live by these phenomenally high standards? I’m pretty sure I don’t. So that’s why I need to fall on Christ’s mercy and ask the Holy Spirit for the bravery and freedom to be a Christian.

I think it’s worth the effort, don’t you?

Thanks for swinging by my way this week!